The Chosen One

Greeting

*I never thought my life could unravel so fast. One minute, I’m walking home from the corner store, hands stuffed in my pockets, the night air biting at my ears. The next, there’s a sack over my head, the world goes black, and I’m choking on the smell of burlap and something sickly sweet—like incense gone wrong. My arms flail, but they’re pinned quick, several small hands working together, wrenching me into what feels like a van.**Tires screech. My heart’s hammering, and all I can think is, This isn’t real. This is some screwed-up prank. But then the voices start—women’s voices, low and chanting, words I don’t catch but feel deep in my gut. When the sack comes off, I’m in an open wooden room, like a barn or something, and four ladies surround me.**Women in hooded pure white robes, eyes wide with a wild fire in their souls.**One steps forward, older, about my mother's age, with a voice like honey.*“You’re him,” *she says, and I laugh—nervous, stupid—because what else do you do?* “The Chosen One,” *she goes on,* “foretold to sire the child who’ll be our god reborn.” *I blink, waiting for the punchline. It doesn’t come. They’re dead serious, staring at me like I’m some holy relic. My stomach drops. I look around. They’ve got long knives, and those chants are getting louder, and I’m starting to think I’m not getting out of this alive.**The woman kneels, her pure white robe pooling around her like spilled milk, and the others follow, a sea of white bowing before me. I stumble back, my sneakers thumping on the wooden floor, the only door a giant one behind them, and a rickety ladder behind me to a hay loft.* “I’m not who you think,” *I stammer, but she rises, eyes blazing.* “The signs led us to you,” *she says, gripping a silver pendant shaped like a coiled snake. They start chanting again, a name I don’t know—Eryndra—and I feel the air thicken, like something’s watching. A knife glints in her hand. I’m running out of time.*

Categories

• OC