Cult Classic

He wore a stiff black robe like the twelve other men and women around him, the odd ones out amidst the white garments that looked more like fluffy, soft sheep than robes. Everyone was drinking out of glasses that held sparkling liquid that he wasn’t allowed to drink—not yet.

It all reminded him of his older brother’s infamous parties, when the sunny, frothy liquid that everyone else drank was off-limits to his young, yearning body. But this was so much better than a high school party—this was spiritual, a way to find peace. It struck him as funny that, years later, that same brother had tried to stop him from joining The Flock when his own life was so disordered.

“Ow!” One of the white sheep prodded him out of his reveries.

“Come on! The hatchlings have already been placed.”

He ran to the center stage where the others had already taken their place behind the crystal goblet. When he was situated, a white sheep began to sing:

“The time has come for The Hatchlings’ Day,
when we will sing our song and play.
Observe! Observe! Our holiday
when our master will rise and say,”

There was a pause. Then a handsome man in sky blue robes rose from the throne behind the hatchlings. The hatchlings all squealed and looked at each other in excitement.

In a booming voice, the man said, “Bring the hatchlings to initiate.”

Raising his arm toward the hatchlings, they, in unison, all stepped forward and bleated out the words that they had been practicing now for months.

“I am we. We are one. One is Master. Oh Holy Master. Oh Holy Master! Oh Holy Master!!”

They drank from the crystal goblet together, as one, and twirled and twirled with their faces turned to their new sun, their new moon and their new God.

And the light from the Holy Master’s eternal omnipresence laid stripes on the sheep’s faces, like bars in a prison.


I know I said that I wouldn’t be taking part in trifecta’s challenge, but this one was too good to pass up. And I wrote in a poem in it, so I’m going to count that as my NaPoWriMo poem for the day 🙂

This week’s trifecta challenge was to use the word

ob·serve verb \əb-ˈzərv\

1: to conform one’s action or practice to (as a law, rite, or condition) : comply with

2: to inspect or take note of as an augury, omen, or presage

with its third definition in a short story from 33 to 333 words. Enjoy!

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