THE SACRIFICE
sophia ilyasa
( description: prose, a man driven to madness, believes that the only way for salvation is dying with intention to sever himself from this Earth, also believes he’s some sort of saint.)
The fall of mankind, a lifelong regret. A tragedy. The first and last deed to be committed outside the bounds of Earth. We are all wretched children of the blueprint, and within our throats lies the final bite of the red and ripe apple. Force my exposed throat upwards and engrave your harm within it. Let the tint of the accursed fruit escape from my now bleeding flesh. The sinful sweetness has now been justly stripped away from my righteous organs. I am one with freedom, I am amongst the pious and pure. Let me make my final exit a bravado and leave this world with grace. The soil we tread upon is God’s punishment, the outcome of our disobedience. The water that once quenched the thirst of my now bleeding throat was painted by the Lord above through his divine fury. The King of kings, the highest artist. The picturesque essence of this accursed mud is tied to the burden of mankind's first sin, such a morose root, it’s inevitable this world is condemned, our hands clutch desperately and we sprawl for the essence of a saviour to purge us of our condemnation, yet we are our own saints, and so we should rid ourselves of the evil that lurks in the cracks of our ungodly souls. Allow my butchered body to fall, Corpus Christi. Welcome me into your paradise, leave the scar on my throat as I ascend, for it's a sacrifice, just as the mark of the cross was pierced into our saviour. I have slowly carved wrongdoing out the depths of my soul and spared myself of eternal hellfire. I have let it fall where it belongs, the ill-fated ground of this land. Forgive me, dear lord, venerate me, God above. The temporary bliss that I have danced around, the devils beautified word was my scripture for as long as I lived. Angel of death, violently and mercilessly pull the veins out of me, for they are the serpent that wishes to tie me further to this haven for sinners. Bury my weightless and baptised vessel in the blood-soaked soil of where I ascended. Let the tree blossom and flourish into one that birth’s sweet and sinful apples, pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree, sink your teeth into the fruit, for it is my body, let the juice spill at your feet, for it is my blood. I am your salvation, your truthful communion. Bury the core once the divine essence has been devoured, and burn it with the element of hell. An eternal reminder of my way of atonement. My tired eyes are shut, my impurities gone, as have I. My seed is sinless, your’s is not. I wait for the ecstasy of Eden.
Sophia is 16, a WOC and based in the U.K. She enjoys writing prose in her free time, which she should be using to study for college :). She is fond of using religious symbolism from other religions, and prefers to leave her metaphors open-ended and ambiguous. She loves the writings of Anton Chekhov and James Baldwin, but Sylvia Plath is her favourite author. Sophia is deeply committed to political philosophy and identifies as left-wing; her writing reflects some of these political issues. She takes Latin as an elective in addition to her other courses for no specific purpose other than the possibility that it will expand her literary horizons. Sophia wishes to pursue political journalism in the future, however being an established writer seems tasteful to her as well. Sophia likes to listen to music, especially The Smiths, Hole, Jeff Buckley and Jimmy Hendrix. Along with her love of literature, Sophia also has a strong passion for cinema, and her main goal is to evoke strong feelings in her readers by making them feel as though they are watching a movie while reading her writing. In short, Sophia wishes to publish her work, all whilst she actively avoids studying for her courses.