
The Day of Darkening
It’s finally here, thought Erik. He had already made all the preparations that were needed. Quite rightly, the whole village was excited about the predictions the truthsayers and elders had been discussing — for what seemed like forever — finally coming to pass.
Today was the Day of Darkening. This event had only happened once before in living memory, and there was only one amongst them that actually remembered the stories about it. And she was now so old that few fully believed her ramblings.
Despite his young age and, at times, his outspoken demeanour, Erik was astonished to have been honoured by the Elders. He was unanimously chosen as the Giver — the person who would orchestrate the event and offer the tributes to the Gods in honour of their great miracle.
It was up to him to get everything ready and, at the vital moment, make the expected sacrifices. He had been dreaming of this day for weeks — perhaps even for his whole life.
Now the time had finally come. The Great Henge was ready and everyone in the village, and for miles around, would be making their way to it, silently saying their own prayers.
Erik stepped out of his hut and was stunned to see that the sky was already starting to darken — it had begun, he must get into position quickly now!
He mustered all his strength and began to sprint his way through the woods to the henge. The Giver was reserved a very special place in the centre of that most magical ring of stones.
As he ran through the thick underbrush, scaring small animals from their many hiding places, he found his mind wandering to thoughts about his Father, Sten. He would have been so proud of me today, he realised.
All those games we used to play together, when I was just a small boy, acting out all the preparations for the festivals. He would never have imagined me presiding as the Giver over a Darkening!
Through the many twists and turns of the forest path, he ran. He was kicking up leaf litter with such regularity that there seemed to be a cloud of leaves travelling along with him.
He felt lighter than air as he ran and, at times, it almost seemed that his feet were not actually touching the forest floor. Animals appeared to be running along with him, in front and at both sides. He started to feel like a ritualistic wind sweeping through the ancient wood, carrying living things and forest debris with him, towards their most sacred location.
After what seemed like miles, Erik finally broke free of the last line of bracken at the edge of the forest and emerged into the central glade, a huge clearing in the middle of the wood.
There in front of him were the Great Stones — an incredible sight at any time and even more so at this moment. There were so many people gathered — thousands, realised Erik — that people must have come from villages all around to share this great spectacle.
As he moved into his position in the centre of the incredible ring of stones, a hush came over the assembled throng. The sky was already becoming quite dark — near to a twilight — even though the time was only just after midday.
This is it, thought Erik. I need to make the starting sacrifice now, before things go too far.
“Behold!” he shouted to the crowd around him. The silence that instantly befell the clearing was almost deafening.
“Oh great and wondrous Gods! I make the first of many sacrifices to you, in honour of the great sign which you give us now!”
He brought his ceremonial dagger down and thrust it into the pig he was holding, just behind the windpipe. It was a perfect strike. He deftly pulled the knife firmly forward, so the animal’s throat was completely breached. The gush of blood was immense and did not last long.
At the moment of the pig’s death, the sky darkened noticeably, and the crowd were no longer silent. A mesmerising murmur had begun at the centre of the group, and was quickly spreading back through their ranks towards the edge of the circle.
“Trond i, Vast i, Cotonde i,” they were muttering. In the ancient tongue of Erik’s ancestors it meant, “Feed us, heal us, spare us.” It was their prayer to the Gods to take care of the village.
Erik continued to sacrifice animals as swiftly and painlessly as he could, at what was deemed the appropriate intervals. The intention was not to make the animals suffer but to offer their lives to the powers above.
Each animal was an important part of the village and killing any one of them was not to be taken lightly. Certainly, he was a lover and carer of animals — but slaughter was necessary sometimes. What bothered him the most about these killings was that they could not feast on the meat. These were gifts to the Gods and so could not be touched by hands other than his own. And they certainly could not be eaten.
That was a terrible waste of a great many meals — given a choice, he would not kill an animal unless it was for food.
He had heard stories from some of the Elders that human sacrifices were undertaken at some of the festivals in times gone by. That ritual was no longer permitted — not in his village, at least. He was not so sure about some of the other villages he had visited.
The time was drawing near. The sky was now almost completely black. Sol, the great sun God, had almost completely doused his flames for them as a demonstration of his power. The crowd knew that this pivotal moment would last only a short time. For some reason that no-one was really sure of, Sol would not keep his flames shut down for long.
He watched with awe as night magically arrived during the day — the Darkening was finally here.
Everyone was staring into the sky, marvelling at the way Sol had gone dark but for a ring around the outer rim of his countenance.
They waited.
Anytime now, he knew that the renewed light would soon pierce the sky.
They waited.
A voice from behind him cried out in fear.
“Sol has abandoned us!”
The man was quickly silenced by those around him.
But still, they waited.
Erik began to sweat. The timing seemed wrong to him.
Still nothing.
Had he done something wrong? Was there a mistake somewhere in the preparations and the rituals? Had he sacrificed too soon or too late?
A hundred questions passed through the transom of his mind in but a moment.
And still nothing.
Now he was beginning to feel the panic from the crowd around him. It felt like the mounting pressure before a thunderstorm.
He took a moment to look down from the sky and scan the faces of the audience surrounding him on all sides. He could see the complete gamut of human emotion in their faces, at each and every extreme.
Many were still in rapture and astonishment. Many more were openly weeping. But plenty were looking frightened.
More worryingly, there was anger — directed at him.
As the Giver, it was his responsibility to ensure that the event went as planned.
He gradually became aware that the lack of the newborn sunlight was being viewed by some as a failure brought about directly by his actions — or perhaps, his inactions.
There was only one thing he could do, he realised, and he needed to do it quickly.
“Great Sol!” he shouted to the sky, “If I have wronged you in some way, I am truly sorry! To show my respect, and save others from your wrath, I offer you a final sacrifice!”
With that, he immediately cut his own throat and crumpled to the ground.
A gasp went up in the assembled group. No-one could quite believe what had happened.
At that precise moment, a great shaft of light struck down on them from the sky, and spread itself upon Erik’s body.
“He has saved us all by giving his own life to Sol!” shouted one of the village Elders.
Gradually, the sky began to brighten and there were many shouts of joy from around the Great Henge.
But the mood was sombre and respectful from all those gathered at the stones. They had been saved by the selfless act of a very likeable young man, who would now never have the chance to grow into the wise and thoughtful village Elder that he had had the promise to be.
There was a great feast and the Day of Darkening passed without further incident. There was nothing but prosperity in the village for many years.
Stories of Erik the Giver still exist to this day, telling how he sacrificed himself for the good of his fellow man.
Some say that his spirit still lives on at Stonehenge and that he can be seen walking to his spot in the centre of the henge on the day of a total eclipse.
Maybe you will see him there one day.
