The Sacrifice

A dark tale of sacrifice but why? Is it real, a dream? You decide.

To say she was shitting her pants was a severe understatement.
And really, what would it matter if she did at this point?
Her life was nearly over.
She was about to sacrifice herself for her sister.
To watch over her, protect her, keep her company in the darkest of dark places. To keep the boogeyman at bay.
The stench of shitty pants was not going to matter one iota where she was going.

She looked down into the freshly dug soil.
The smell of damp earth rose to greet her nose, overwhelming her senses.
Would this be the last scent she would ever experience?
Of course it would be.
This earth, this damp soil, would soon coat the insides of her nostrils, filling them until they could be filled no more, smothering her until it clogged her final breath.

Would it hurt?
Of course it would .
Would her lungs feel tight and at any minute explode?
Would it be quick?
Who was going to hold her hand in those final seconds?
No one.

She looks over at her sister's coffin.
It is beautifully made, a glorious dark wood with splendid golden handles.
No expense was spared.
Within, her sibling lies on a bed of cream silk.
Her favorite dress clinging to her now wasted frame.
Her head lays on the softest of pillows, and surrounding her lies her favorite photos, her favorite CDs.
Her ratty old teddy that is worn and tired from endless days and nights of being squeezed within an inch of its life, and the repetitive soaking from tears that seemed to never run dry.

Her life was temporary, and pain filled.
They tried everything they could.
Her sister fought courageously and with determination;
But it wasn’t meant to be.
Her days on earth had its number, and she had reached it way too soon.
And with it, so had mine.

The sun was warm upon her face,
The sky an endless blue with only occasional wisps of cloud.
The temperature was warm and comforting.
Looking back towards her final resting place, she shivered.
The sun would not reach her down there.
The clouds would not envelop her terrified form.
The warmth would be replaced with chill and dampness.

At this moment she envied her sister her coffin of comfort, of protection.
She tried to hate her but could not overcome the sheer terror that gripped her very soul.
It is her job, her fate, her obligation, her punishment for being healthy.
She cannot change it now.

Slowly, the bearers began shouldering the weight of the coffin and making their way towards the hole.
No one approached her, no one offered her some last words of comfort, of thanks, of prayer.
No one came forward to put their arms around her;
To whisper words of love.
To support her in her final moments.

Slowly, they lowered her sister down.
Down, down, down.
Gently, softly, respectfully.
Sounds of grief at her back.
But these sounds of grief were not for her.
She was healthy, she was alive, if not for much longer.
She had lived a life free of pain and sickness.
She did not deserve their grief.
She had been the lucky one.

Eventually after what seemed an eternity my sister’s coffin ceased its decent and rested at the bottom.
It’s final resting place.
And now it was her turn;
To join my sister in her forever rest.

She didn’t look behind her as she stepped forward.
She didn’t want to see the people behind her, waiting to watch her join her sister.
The men brought forth the ladder and slowly lowered it down beside the coffin.
They stood back, heads bowed, giving her space to make her way forward.
She wanted to run; she wanted to scream, and she did indeed shit her pants and wet them as well.

She grasped the ladder and turned herself to face the sheer wall of dirt.
Down each rung, slowly, torturously;
Not looking up, not chancing any last vestige of hope that someone would stop her.
It wasn’t going to happen.

She reached the bottom, just enough room for her to lay on her side facing her sisters coffin.
She wet herself again as she eased herself to her knees and finally onto her side.
She could not only smell the earth but the varnish that covered the coffin.
So dirt wasn’t the only last smell she would experience.

The first clod of dirt fell, loudly, heavily on top of the casket and some slid down between it and her front.
Her heart was pounding wildly, she was sure it was going to give out before her breathing was snuffed.
She sure hoped so.

Clod upon clod of dirt fell and bounced, thump, thump, thump.
The smell increasing and cloying.
Slowly it rose around her.
No longer were her legs free to move.
They lay heavy and pinned and became heavier still.
Slowly the dirt made its way up her torso, now starting to compress her stomach, her ribs.

The light started to fade and the first clump of dirt finally hit her head.
It wouldn’t take long, it couldn’t take long surely.
Please, please, let it be quick.
Let my sisters face be the first I see once I am no longer of this world.

And there it was, the shovel load that covered her nose, her mouth;
And with the next, her eyes.
It was as she expected.
The earth thick and heavy, had her struggling to breathe and in no time at all
It worked its way up her nasal passages with each breath, each limited inhale that she desperately tried not to take.
Her body pinned and trapped, the weight immense.

Not much longer now.
She could just feel the coffin's hardness with her fingertips, imagined her sister's hand reaching through the side and grasping hers.
My thoughts were slowing, vanishing, fading to black, to nothing.
She had fulfilled her obligation,
She could see her sister smiling, at peace.
She feels a last moment of emotion, confusion, tiredness, despair, longing, the final intake of rich dark soil choking my airway for…the….very….last…..time
Then……….nothing.

The people above had long moved away.
They had turned their backs with the first shovel load released.
They had no care for the one that would soon lay dying, struggling for breath, fulfilling her obligation as they saw it.
The headstone to be placed would only bare one name upon its facade.
Only acknowledging the sister in the coffin.
The one that should have lived.

For the sacrifice, as that is what she is, there will be no reminder of her existence, her presence upon this earth.
She was but a fleeting visitor in a time she did not belong.
The sacrifice has done her job.
The sacrifice will earn her wings alongside her sister.
The sacrifice will suffer as she should .

And the sacrifice will rise once again.




@AmareJane 2025