The hillside rolled with a subtle incline almost as smooth as a sigh and the figures marched upward.
A yellow sun hung over a blew sky, my
Father and his friends unloaded their gear and set up camp.
“It’s never been this crowded before.” My godfather said.
My father turned and gazed up the gentle- daunting slope. I followed his gaze.
“They must have heard how nice it is this time of year.”
I looked out on the land and watched the procession.
Then without warning I darted into the brush and followed them… From a distance.
I saw them at the top of the hill their hoods off, their languid faces weeping long black tears in bright sunlight. They clutched in their hands bright metal, sharp metal, engraved and grim yet nonetheless beautiful knives. Before I could blink they drove the blades they each clutched deep into their throats and dropped dead in a fantastic array. It was the sign of Erebos. That’s when I realized the shadows held dark things. Wicked nymphs watched me and giggled- the ceremony had been of their design and now the noon of Erebos was bestowed upon them. I said naught- but turned and fled.