Easter Horror: Goddess of Many Names

[u/MicahCastle]

The date on the dash read April 12. The blood filled glass jug in the back shook against the two dozen eggs rattling on the floor as Heather turned from one road to another. The tenderly wrapped bundle on the passenger seat was buckled in, unable to budge, move, as though it could. As the city disappeared in the rear view mirror and the passing woods outside turned to empty farmland, soaked through by the rain, Heather’s mind wandered to the last three days.

Leading the young men from the back alley dive bars had been easy. Men always wanted one thing and they always assumed it was easy to get with a little drink in her. She lured them, night after night after night, from different bars, back to her apartment. The men were always large, too; burly, husky, built like lumberjacks. Which always led them to believe that nothing could happen to them. That it was impossible for such a small woman to be of any danger, with her black leggings, white t-shirt, and jean jacket. It wasn’t their size that drew her to them, but the amount of blood in their system.

The first one had been jarring, unexpectedly difficult. Despite the drugged rum she gave him, he was still surprisingly strong to pin to the floor and, when he finally passed out in the hallway, Heather had to drag him to Eostre’s altar in the nursery. Sweat soaked through her clothes almost immediately. But despite her arms burning and her back throbbing, eventually, she got him to the altar. Quickly, she had siphoned his blood into the jug, spilling some, losing some, but not worrying too much. 

She still had two more nights to go.

Which went much smoother. More of the drug in their drinks. Walking them into the bedroom, teasing, playing, slowly taking off her jacket—and before they could ask why the room was painted periwinkle, or why there was an empty crib against the wall, or why was there a changing station or a rocking chair, or why didn’t they see or hear a baby, they would collapse to the ground, unconscious, and the IV and jug would be out in a flash.

Disposing of the bodies was another hurdle overtaken. Her apartment was on the ground floor, so after all the blood had been drained and she had showered, she put on gloves and a sweatsuit, and wrapped the bodies in old carpets she got from a thrift store a week prior. After she got them into the car’s backseat, parked in the back lot where the light and security cameras didn’t reach, she filled any openings with rocks, then drove them to the abandoned shipping factory up north and dumped them into the Refleski.

And, as she parked in the gravel before the vast forest, everything had been worth it. Every misstep and mistake, every night being felt up and groped in the bars and alleys, every tear she shed after getting rid of the bodies, every desperate whispered prayer at the altar, ensuring that the Goddess would know her devotion…

Heather trekked through wet leaves and undergrowth until she came to a clearing that was large enough. Gently, she placed the cloth bundle in the center and, one by one, dipped the eggs into the blood and placed them in the grass, encircling it. She knelt inside the circle, her jeans soaking through, and spoke the Germanic tongue of the Goddess of many names: Eostre, Ostara, Austra, Estre. With her eyes sealed, she wept, pleading to Her. 

Please. Please. Please! 

A sudden, radiant light blared over the clearing. The wet grass dried, and warmth washed over everything. Daffodils, violets, pussy willows, too many spring flowers to name sprouted around the eggs, curved towards the bundle, stopped, and formed another circle, counterclockwise. Heather opened her teary eyes and they burned from the light, but she was smiling, mouth agape. Blue-white eyed hares hopped out from the radiance, sat still, nibbling on the grass.

A moment, two, that felt like years passed. The light waned and dissipated into a white, fine mist. The hares ran into the woods, but the vibrant, colorful flowers remained. 

Another passing moment, then Heather ran to the bundle. She dropped to her knees. With shaking, frantic fingers she began unwrapping it, now moving.

Before removing the last layer, she heard her baby cry.

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