A researcher, George Greg, in the midst of his misdirection stumbled upon tribal people hunting a deer. He watched them from behind a big oak tree, it’s width hiding his slim frame. People in the lower regions of Lukika were known or rumored to be cannibals and so George fear for his life. He stood there as still I he could, lips pressed onto each other, eyes shut begging any deity above to make them leave as his heartbeat increased. The tribal people felt George’s presence by the scent of his fear. They, armed with bows and arrows, approached him slowly and quietly only being led by the scent of his fear and cheap English cologne that stood out like a sore thumb in the forest.
George heard nothing for a moment and decided to turn to see if they had gone, but instead he turned into the head of an arrow pointed at his temple. George’s eyes look up at his temple at the sharp object that poked it and back at the holder of the arrow. “P—P—Plea—please don’t kill me. Please, please, please.... I...I just....(gulp) I’m lost. I just need directions.” He mumbled out, his heart racing a mile a second as he stumbled over every word since his mind was also trying to see other escape routes he could use. “Who are you” one of the tribal people mimed , he was much taller than the rest with broad shoulders and strong legs that could carry him anywhere. George was almost glad that his grandfather was a mute his entire childhood forcing him to learn sign language in order to communicate. “I am George. I am lost.” He mimed back with his hands. The tall strong tribal person taped the holder of the arrow pointing at George’s head. Three taps and the arrow was let down to his side. George let’s put a breath, happy.
“I am in need of a place to stay. I am lost. I am hungry. Please help me.” George mimed and the tall one tells the rest of the tribal people. They talked in a language filled with clicks. They conversed for a moment of two before the tall one tells George to follow them. They walked for what felt like an eternity in the forest. The air was warm and moist which meant a lot of bugs came out as well as insects such a mosquitoes. The tribal people surprisingly to George weren’t getting bitten. He assumed it was because of the sheet of white powder they wore. The tall one said his name was Warrior, or it translated to that at least. George had read a lot of claims and some books on the tribal people of the lower region, but their society seemed too good to be true.
They finally made it to the top of the mountain and George couldn’t believe his eyes. These people had their huts and long stretch of farm land with corn and Millimeal with live stock here and there. It seemed like an agricultural society. But very stone-age to be exact. They had rich trees that produced very fresh juicy fruits, fruits he had never seen nor tasted. It was so rich in flavor and taste he was almost baffled. Warrior also gave him some food, sheep liver with some corn and George couldn’t believe how amazing the food is. The meat was exceptionally filling and delicious. People here seemed kind and welcoming to George. Warrior introduced him to the elders of the village and the selection of beautiful women.
The only thing that creeped George out to the point of no return. All these people didn’t have eyes. Their eye sockets were empty. George didn’t want to seem rude, it took a lot out of him to not point that out. It seemed as though only the kids were the ones with eye balls, but than the eerie thing was that the kids weren’t a lot. He had only seen 5-10 kids out of the entire village and they were all mostly toddlers or kids below the age of 10. It scared him. He didn’t understand this. Warrior than took him to a burning sacrifice at the back of someone’s hut. “What are they doing.” He asked Warrior who was weirdly enough the only one with eyes. “Sacrificing to the Earth Goddess.” He says. “Why?”
“To promote fertility of the earth and to keep us hidden from outsiders or invaders.” Warrior explains. George watched in fascination as the eyeless man gouges out the eyes of the teenage boy. All that they could hear was his cries for help and his mother and the chanting of the old man gouging the teenage boy’s eyes out. “Why are they doing that?!” George said almost right about ready to help the poor boy, but Warrior placed a hand on George’s chest, preventing him from intervening. “Don’t interrupt or else the Earth Goddess will punish you.”
“But that boy needs our help.” George mimed angrily.
“No, his eyes are the sacrifice. The Earth Goddess requires sacrifice of the eyes in order to keep your soul from either leaving your body or being joint to that of someone else’s. Our community believes that the eyes hold the keys to the soul, without them, the soul remains in your body until you die and become dust, then your souls returns back to the Earth goddess.” Warrior explains simply. George fascinated and worried asked “Why do you still have your eyes?”
“I am her husband. I need to have my eyes in order to rule them on her behalf. I was born with the mark on the right corner of my eye. A kiss from the Earth Goddess, the elders called it. They let me keep my eyes so that the Earth Goddess can use my body to help them when hunting or farming. I am a vessel for her to use.” He explains. George looked at him in tremendous fear. For the beauty and tranquility of this village laid a dark hideous story behind it.
“Can you ever be free?” George asked.
“No. My soul doesn’t not exist. I am but a flesh, nothing more, for the Goddess to use for the benefit of her people.” Warrior mimed finishing off.
They look back at the hut that had the sacrificing taking place there. They had concluded and the elderly man that gouged the eyes out of the teenage boy, who also had no eyes, burnt them lifting of a delicious scent for the Earth Goddess before he placed the plate down of the burning eyes balls, kneeling before it, chanting
“To the power be Earth Goddess. To the sun live Earth Goddess. To the moon shine Earth Goddess. For this gift ,hail Earth Goddess.”
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