The offering

“Wake up!” He barks. His words are as loud as thunder and shake the whole cabin, nearly tossing me from my hammock. “You’re going to be late!” He adds, then limps over to the fire. The poor dog, Amka, jolts to his feet then is immediately unbothered and wastes no time drifting back to sleep. He is no stranger to the man’s early morning bellowing.

“Geez, I’m up! Besides it’s the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, there’s plenty of daylight to get things done in the lumber yard even if I’m a little late!” I say wiping the gunk from my eyes. The old man is done with words for now, he barely looks at me and has even less to say when he does. But nevertheless I need no introduction to the ways about him.

Dad is always in a bad mood. Ever since mom died that is. Everyone says I look just like her right down to the fish shaped birthmark on our necks. But I wouldn’t know, she died in childbirth with me. Since then the tribe members say my dad has never smiled or was happy again. So these 17 years of my life have been just great with this grumpy bastard lugging around. The only sliver of pleasantry in the house has been Amka.

Amka was the runt of a neighboring litter. He was weak and not expected to live through the night. So the decision was made to end his perceived suffering. After overhearing the fate of the pup, my mother took pity on him and took him home. My father was never fond of anything weak or dependent but he wouldn’t dare tell her no. They say my mom catered to that tiny husky the whole night. The pup pulled through and never left her side til the day she died. Amka, now 18 years old, has aged into sedentary life. Every bark is a struggle, and old joints crackle with each movement. This is the second time this dog’s days have been numbered and he’ll probably be joining my mother soon.

Dad’s silhouette flickers in the light from the fireplace. Strong Inuit cheek bones cast a depth to his face. His tribal markings shimmer in the ever changing light of the fire. He stares at the flames dancing over the wood, as if he’s in a trance or coming to peace with something. Like a moth to a flame his eyes won’t turn it loose. “Akhlut returns tonight…” He says without looking away. Instinctively I turn to make sure there is no one else in the room he could be talking to before responding. “Village Chief started this up again? It’s been, what, 16 years?”

“17.” He says coldly. “You sacrificing something for a wish?”

”I dunno dad, maybe my hunting spear…I haven’t really thought about what I would wish for though. What about you?”

“Haven’t settled on it just yet.”

“Well, what will you wish for?”

He turns those cold brown eyes towards me piercing my soul. “Your mother…” he says without a second of hesitation. I shrug off the eerie look in his eyes and just celebrate the small victory that he chose to speak at all. But his wish…his sacrifice would have a lot of work to do to raise a woman from the dead.

Taking advantage of the rare banter before it dissipates, I chime, “I would love to meet mom one day.”

An unfamiliar expression flashes on my dad’s face…he seems almost hopeful as he slowly looks to Amka. Their eyes meet with the familiarity of the woman I never knew… Dad slowly releases Amka from his gaze, and stares back into the fire. He lets out a deep sigh as he turns to limp away.

For a moment, I pitied the man’s deep sorrow and delusions of reuniting with a dead woman.

I start to call out to him, but my tongue stops me half way and my mouth won’t budge. I’ll let him sulk while I get ready for work.

At the lumber yard, I am paired with Yanis to plant more trees for future harvests. Hundreds of tiny sycamores in tiny red bags lay at our feet with thousands of acres to repopulate. It’s daunting yet simple work that takes most of the day and gives us plenty of time to talk.

“Hey Yanis, what do you think about the chief reviving this Akhlut sacrifice thing again?”

I ask while digging a small hole for the saplings. Yanis pauses then says “Ya know I never really thought about it. But I think it's a good Ottawatti tradition.”

”Come on man, really? Do you really think a mythical beast is going to come eat your offerings and then if they are good enough grant you a wish? Gimme a break.”

”Akhlut are real. I saw a baby one last year. I couldn’t believe it but I swear!”

”Oh whatever, I’ll believe it when I see it eating my hunting spear.”

”Your hunting spear? No, man! I’m getting rid of these moccasins I hate. Everyone says they’re sacrificing something they love but it’s always something they just want to get rid of.” He says with a big laugh.

His laugh echoes throughout the valley. The repetition of it makes me feel like an even bigger fool for giving up something as special as that spear. I never knew this tradition was just a purging of trash. I spend the rest of the daylight thinking of something I no longer want and can’t come up with much.

As the sun begins to descend, Yanis and I ditch the trees and bid each other farewell. Walking through the village every cabin, tavern and storefront are lined with discarded items. Broken pottery, damaged weapons, torn clothing, and broken tools lay at the doorstep of so many homes. Small children fight to keep broken toys while parents eagerly rush them inside before the horns sound and the tradition begins.

The thud of doors being shut and windows being boarded for the imaginary creature that goes bump in the night resounds down every path. It’s a welcome melody, as I’ve never known the village to be this quiet. The streets are barren, even the shadows have runaway to hide inside. The night pours onto the rooftops and leaks into the streets. It won’t be long now. I quickly pick up the pace when I see my cabin in the distance. Dad is standing in the doorway with Amka. He is dressed in a celebratory robe I had never seen before. His stoned face is void of emotion, and his cold dark eyes pierce through the night to find me in the distance.

The horns sound. They bellow from the rooftops and blanket the land with their warning. It’s begun and yet my father hasn’t budged. He stands as firm and stiff as a totem pole.

“DAD! What are you doing?” I yell over the sounding horns as I approach. “Go inside, I’ll be right there.” Still the man stays anchored to the doorway. The whites of his eyes sparkle in the night as they search through the darkness.

What on Earth is he looking for? I stop short at the door, confused and ask. “Where’s your offering?” The man says nothing but slips into the bowels of the cabin slamming the door in my face.

What’s this?

The door is locked.

“Hey dad, what is going on?! Open the door!” I yell knocking on the door. There’s no answer.

“Hey dad! Open the-” there’s a rustle in the trees behind me and I can feel eyes upon me. I turn to find red beastly eyes cutting through the darkness and evening mists. It’s a beast with skin as black as the new moon and with an underbelly as white a full one. It releases a growl that sends shivers down my spine. “They are real…” I utter.

An akhlut stands a stone's throw away from me snarling and drooling at the sight of me. The half orca half wolf creature stands as tall as the cabin with broken toys and torn clothes hanging from its jagged teeth. Its dark claws rip into the Earth as it barrels towards me. Panic turns me around and hammers my fists onto the door. “Help! Help me! Somebody! Dad open the d-” I yell before my mouth is filled with blood. Its teeth tear into my flesh and slices through my bones like butter. The horror of death smothers me as I come to the realization of his sacrifice.

While my body is being ripped apart, I look into the window and see a woman sitting at the table with Amka laying at her feet. I can’t make out her face but I can see a fish shaped birthmark on her neck. And for the first time ever I see my father smiling.

-End