Posted in writing

Eye of the Goat

(This is another prompt from Reddit.)

One day, while talking with your friends, they ask how long has your family being in a cult. You have no idea what they mean and they start discussing your family’s “traditions.”

Listen man, I don’t know if I want to join your family for dinner again…

Why’s that?  I know my mom makes stuff kind of bland, but you should definitely try my dad’s barbecue.

It’s not that, I just feel uncomfortable around your family.  Your version of… grace is a bit… different.  Off-putting, actually.

I’m sorry; I forgot you aren’t really religious.  I should have told you before about how my family practices.

Fake goat blood is beyond practicing.  I think your parents have it down.  By ‘it’, I mean the ‘crazies,’ like really.

It’s just cranberry juice cocktail.  Real goat blood is only for special occasions.  It’s expensive, after all.  Believe me, once you try the real stuff though, the juice doesn’t ever feel the same.

What?  Your parents made you drink real blood?

Yes and no.  It was at a camp for us kids.  Many parents had their kids come.  We did some arts and crafts, made campfires, then brought out a goat to sacrifice.  It ended with us all getting to drink its life-force.

Your parents sent you to a camp to be indoctrinated into a cult?

A cult?  I’m not sure what you mean.

Well remember that time the neighborhood watch was called on your dad for peeping with his telescope?

He wasn’t.

Yeah, I remember the article in the newspaper.  He was quoted saying that he was scanning the horizon for the blood planet Xenobia.  A planet that doesn’t exist.  People just wrote it off as some guy off his rocker.

Are you saying my dad was just peeping in people’s windows?

No.  The last thing I want to imply is that your dad is a pervert.  He just believes in made up things that the cult has installed in his mind.

You have to drink the goat blood for the planet to become visible to you.

NO!  Did he ever say he saw anything that resembled a blood planet?

He said that the goat where we got the blood was too immature.

No matter how blood-drunk your dad gets, he’s not going to have any visions besides the ones of the real world.

You know how goats have slit-shaped pupils?  It lets them see beyond what we can see.  Drinking the blood gives us similar abilities.

That sounds phony.  If I drank fish blood, would I be able to breathe under water?  If I drank kangaroo blood, would I be able to jump high?

Who knows?  Their blood doesn’t have power infused by Xenovia.  We need to be able to spot its inevitable approach so we know to be ready to ascend to it.  We have a constant eye to the sky so we can be alerted.

So what happens when you ascend?

Dunno, haven’t really thought about it.

So you think a planet made of blood would be more interesting than here?

To be honest, no.

That’s what I thought.  Want to get some shakes?

Sure.

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