Day 297

It wasn't often that they were caught but when they were the heads were the first thing to go.
The village had developed this way of drying the heads to near a husk without them shrinking.
Truly it was an art, they all agreed.
One that was very much in use.

The rest of the body wasn't dried, the meat was removed, stored and eventually eaten.
Bones became decoration, passed off for cow or fox, depending on size.
Outsiders were none the wiser and the village's traditions continued unhindered.
They knew it would have to end some day, the heads were missed by their kin.

As old as their recipe was the heads would still crumble eventually.
It was such a shame, especially when it happened during a parade.
Last year a sharp gale nearly destroyed everyone's effigy!
So many people had to hunt down new heads, it caused a real fuss all around the area.

A few of the villagers were even caught and arrested, poor souls.
They were at least smart enough to not give the village's tradition away.
So the parades continued even though they were several short of the preferred number.
It didn't seem to have any impact on the celebrations, besides their empty seats.

Still, it was a time of joy for the whole community.
Children would spend weeks drawing their future effigies and sewing the clothes for them.
They would even practice the drying process on whatever small animal they could catch.
It wasn't the same as catching a head but it gave them a good start.

Ah, you never forget your first head.
The thrill of the hunt, silencing their screaming in case they travelled with others.
Separating, drying and preserving the head for the effigy while keeping the meat was the tricky part.
Most didn't quite manage to keep the meat at first, too caught up with the head process.

Some never took part in the process but that was okay, they knew the consequences.
If you wouldn't get a head you would become someone else's.
That's just how it went there, everyone wanted a fresh head, didn't matter whose it had been.
Some had walls of them proudly displayed, they walked first during the parades.

Best part of the parade was the Burnt One, a wooden effigy standing around ten feet tall.
Hand carved by the same family every year, they were also in charge of putting the Live One inside.
The Burnt One and Live One were the centre of the whole event, cleansed the village.
Kept them safe for another year.

They read the signals in the smoke and screams of the Great Cleansing Pyre.
In them they saw the next year's events, who would die, who would be headed and who would run.
There was always at least one runner, they were dealt with swiftly.
This year's runner was given to the school as head practice, they all had such fun!

Last year's smoke held the worst prediction possible - the end of the village.
The dark billows showed one person surrounded by an army of effigies.
It was time for them to join the parade but who would lead it?
Everybody wanted that honour.

The news reported it as mass hysteria turned genocide.
The Cannibal Village went down in history as one of the quietest massacres in history.
Some museums even have the remaining effigies, others were given to their families to rest.
The parade never stopped though.

Every year on that same day someone is found near the village, always in the same field.
Burnt to death and surrounded by fallen trees.
Police keep watch but they've never been able to stop it.
The Great Cleansing Pyre still burns.

The parade will go on.