Blue Moon Harvest (summarised climax)

Hurrian was dismayed. Not just dismayed, but in emotional agony. Of course, nobody knew of this. Not even his partner, Darla. It was common for Darla to know everything about him – they were, after all, eternally bound to eachother – but she had no idea how much this hurt him.1

Hurrian and Darla stepped out of the truck and unloaded their contributions to the feast. There were four sacks, each containing their collected prey. Two were happy, two were deadly afraid.2

Darla had always preferred the tense meat of the prey that was scared to death. “Adrenaline makes them taste better,” she would always say. Hurrian, on the other hand, was gentler. He injected his victims with a calming agent that soothed them and made them drowsy, then they would sleep all the way to the celebrations. When it came time to eat, their relaxed muscles would be soft and deliciously tender.3

That’s what he had done with Emily. Somehow, he had found himself attached to her. This was a burden he could not bear, but it was far too late to release and replace her now.4

He put Emily’s sleeping body on a preparation table, with the dozens of other bodies already there. There were hundreds of his kind in the amphitheater, each small community based in a different country. They were preparing garnishes and side-dishes, organizing schedules, setting up the slaughtering equipment.5

“Hurrian,” Darla said. Hurrian looked at her sharply. “I think I should take Emily. I will trade you Emily for Dennis.”6

Hurrian did not appreciate Emily being spoken about like an object, but showing emotion towards prey was far too risky. “Why?” he asked.7

“Because I’ve decided to try your kinder, gentler means.”8

Hurrian didn’t believe her. He shot her a glare without even noticing.9

“Why is that so hard to believe?”10

There was no question about it. Darla had something planned. She was far too cruel by nature to end a life peacefully. She was one of them – the primitive, deceptive, sadistic ones. Remorseless. Perhaps that was why she had been appointed to be his partner. They were complete opposites. Though they did have a lot of fun. In the old days, they would share the blood, they would work together on their captives. Darla had always been cruel, but when it came to sex she was evil. She dominated no matter what, and with multiple partners, she was wild. Hurrian didn’t necessarily think this was a good thing. He yearned for the caring touch of a gentle lover, and with Darla, who saw no point in affection if it didn’t lead to play, he would not get that. He yearned for the love he and Emily shared in secret.11

“Well?” Darla was waiting for an answer. Hurrian had to think. Should he subject his dear Emily to the untamed pleasures of the malicious Darla, or should he swallow his pain and take care of her himself? It was a tough call. He had become too attached to Emily. He could not kill her himself, but handing her over to Darla would be so much worse.12

“No,” Hurrian said. Darla didn’t show a single ounce of anger, not even a twitch. She simply left. Something was seriously wrong.13

Hurrian went back out to the truck to get Dennis. When he got back, Emily was gone. Hurrian knew what happened. Darla had taken Emily anyway.14

Hurrian raced around the grounds of the amphitheater, looking for them. The seats were set up with tables and dinner plates. The showground was set up with dozens of different slaughter methods, each designed for a specific taste and texture.15

Some of the harvested prey were already scheduled for show – naked and suspended over giant tubs of acidic marinade. A few others were encaged in glass boxes and pinned to five-point stars that spun and spun as the blades around them moved closer inward. This one was a very messy process, so it had to be contained. The flossed meat would be collected and fried off at the end. He hoped to the god of death that Darla had not put Emily there.16

He walked past a certain angle, and discovered that it was not Emily in the second glass box.17

People were starting to settle into their seats. It was almost time. Hurrian had to find Emily before she was tortured. He couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering. He had fallen for his prey. Like a stupid little boy, he had fallen for her.18

Emily was beginning to drift back and forth from consciousness. Vertigo struck her immediately as she realised she was naked, standing on a tiny loose platform 30 meters up an enormous wooden post. She could not see very much from that high up, just the vague large things. Metal shone everywhere, sharp and gleaming in the light from the torches and bonfires all around.19

There were hundreds of people, from all over the world it appeared, from the diversity in race and clothing of the masses.20

Suddenly, the rickety platform on which she stood creaked. The silence chilled her to the bones, and the air was so cold and thin that it felt like none reached her lungs. Her wrists were sore and bound behind her, around the post.21

She was scared to look down. Her heart already thumped to the rhythm of a high-speed train, and butterflies fluttered irritably in her chest and stomach. Her legs trembled uncontrollably. What was she doing up here, and why?22

There was only one possible conclusion that ran through her head, but she dared not imagine it. She dared not say it. She dared not think the words, or even of the notion. The thought made her body cringe, if she had freedom of movement. Her ankles were also bound.23

She didn’t look down, but she looked around. Fog had descended upon her, making ghostly shapes as she breathed. Just visible in the fading light, there was another post. A woman hung from it in a similar way, but she was upside down and her ankles were bound together in a way that made her spread legs wrapped around the post, as well as her arms. The poor woman whimpered.24

Emily could smell the strong woody flavour of the posts. They were splintery and it hurt to move against them. Suddenly the platform that held the other woman’s ankle ropes dropped parallel to the post, and the woman fell.25

An ear piercing scream rang then faded as she went down. Emily saw the look of desperation and pain in the woman’s eyes just as the platform dropped.26

The woman descended at a rapid speed, her body scratching and scathing down the post. The scream was muffled through a noise of rustling leaves, then it was clear again. The last of the scream was emitted just as Emily heard a splash.27

Hurrian watched the first person descend one of the skinning posts. He did not enjoy it as he usually did, because the thought that Emily could very soon suffer the same fate made him physically ill. He had to find her. But if she was on the second skinning post, what could he do to save her?28

The crowd cheered in unison as the first person dropped into the giant pot of boiling hot oil.29

Darla appeared beside him, as she always seemed to, out of thin air. “Isn’t it exciting? This is my favourite! The arms break off easily after being dislocated from the shoulders. The skin is off the back. The flesh sits in the crackling at the front. And it gives them a really woody flavour...”30

Hurrian shot a glare at Darla. “You took Emily, didn’t you?”31

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Darla said in the smiliest, most sarcastic voice.32

“How dare you?! She was mine!”33

“We both know you wouldn’t have done it! She was too precious to you, I saw it from the start. You think I didn’t know you were sneaking around with her?”34

“You’ll pay for this!” Hurrian raged.35

“With what? My life? You know that will never happen!” Darla was audible even with the cheering and chanting crowds surrounding them. “It was Emily, or you. I saved you! You’d have been banished to the Wastelands forever if I didn’t take her. You know our superiors. They don’t bother with compassion. Ever.”36

“You had no right.”37

“You’ll thank me when you’re more experienced.”38

“You had no right! Get her back!”39

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Darla warned.40

“And why not? Do it or you’ll be sorry!” The crowd was silent. The amphitheater was buzzing with anticipation.41

“Firstly, because of this.” Darla smiled and at that very instant a vocal screech harmonized with it as a woman came down the second skinning post.42

Emily’s lips trembled and she thought she would cry. If that was her fate, she prayed that she would be struck by lightning there and then before the platform fell. She prayed for salvation. Her shaky breath was slightly vocalized with the most fear she thought would ever come by her in her life – all put together. Never could she have imagined such an inhumane thing.43

Emily slowly turned her head to the other post. Layers of peeled human skin were hanging off the splinters. Some had rolled up into messy coils. Red, raw, bloody. The post was streaked with blood and sinew.44

She began to cry.45

“Let me down! For the love of God, let me down!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. A morbid little voice in the back of her mind had finally come to dictate after years of being pushed away.46

Let you down, did you say? Oh, they’ll let you down, said the voice.47

“No. No! Not like that, no!” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Please,” she whimpered softly. She opened her eyes, and the imaginary deliverance that had found her for a split second disappeared as she was brought back to reality.48

The platform fell.49

Emily screamed like she never thought possible of herself.50

At first, her arms were locked in place, but something caught her wrists and they were flung upwards and out of their sockets. Her shoulders were no longer shoulders, but flimsy ligaments keeping her arms connected to her body.51

Her back and bottom encountered unimaginably rough friction with the wood. Within seconds, most of her skin was left behind and her raw flesh against splinters stung an eternity more than alcohol on a hundred cuts. It felt like her spine would soon grind against the wood.52

Emily screamed and her eyes were shut tightly. If the pain wasn’t enough, she didn’t want to see the world race past her as she sped down to her death, as well.53

She fell through a layer of thickets that smelled like all sorts of herbs, and the sharp branches grazed whatever part of the front and sides of her body they could reach. The skin on her arms was as severely damaged as that on her back. Well, what was left of the skin.54

She opened her eyes after she felt it was the end of the thickets, her mind barely conscious due to the overload of physical and mental distress. The world escaped her as she fell, but the people came closer. Her eyes were drawn towards Hurrian, who was helplessly watching her painful endurance.55

So it was him. She thought he cared about her. Obviously not as much as she cared for him.56

And with that thought, her feet plunged into an infernally hot liquid, followed by the rest of her body. Just as her head was submerged, she heard the cheer of the spectators. Within moments of struggling and burning, her mind finally shut down, and the pain was over.57

Hurrian fell to his knees in despair. He did not want the others to suspect him, but he cried nonetheless. He decided not to care anymore.58

The crowd roared as the beautiful flesh of the only one he had loved in centuries sizzled and fried. Darla put a hand on his shoulder. She seemed to always appear, no matter where he moved. She help him to his feet, and he was too sad to care that she was responsible for it.59

Darla hugged him as he wept into her shoulder, for she too, had once loved. Suddenly the entire culture, the entire species, didn’t matter. Hurrian did not care about the ones who were made to swallow alcohol and ignite and cook from the inside. He did not care that the others were injected with vicious yeasts and bacteria so that their blood could be fermented into wine and they could be bled dry. He did not care that they were suicidal anyway and had nobody to miss them, because now, he would miss Emily.60

While Hurrian wept, Darla was reminded of the one she had lost. He had only harvested her two months before, and an eternity would be more than enough for him to forget her. Unlike Darla, who suffered three millennia back, and suffers to this day.61

In the meantime, she would have to lock away his tears and sorrow.62

In the background, the festivities continued. Roars of delight celebrated every agonized scream. Jellied eyes were dessert served on the sweetened coils of lengths of small intestine. Finger food was literally fingers, roasted golden and served with chilli and garlic dip. The smell of cooking meat diffused through the entire amphitheater. Darla accepted a goblet of blood wine as a cart went by. It certainly was a feast fit for a king.63