51
A young mother was yelling at the top of her lungs. The language she was speaking was that of an ancient tribe. If one could understand it they would hear the words. “Not my baby! Not my baby! Please do not kill my baby!” The young mother was terrified.
Her screams were deafening. But it was no use. She was restrained and her child was in the hands of a high priest. The tribe was on the top of a natural stone bridge. They had been there many times before gathered for the same ritual. Many mothers before her had witnessed their infants being sacrificed to the gods. The men of the tribe chanted and gave the high priest the rhythm he needed to perform the ritual. On this day yet another infant would be sacrificed. This ancient tribe sacrificed an infant as a way to appease the gods and to bring the rains back.
It had not rained for months. The tribe strongly believed that the sacrificed child would travel in time and deliver rain to the area. The droplets under the bridge had to continue. For it was only after an extended period of drought that they would stop. Spilling the blood of an infant on the top of the bridge brought rain within days. This was the way of these people. The rock bridge developed a memory of the suffering of the mothers whose infants were sacrificed. It was a place that if an infant was left for even a moment unattended the bridge would claim that infant and send it forward in time where it could not be harmed.