Aries Season
WHAT QUESTION in life scares you the most? For me, it’s a matter of identity. I know I’m Zach Cunningham, sixteen years old, 5’11”, 145 pounds. I live on a farm on the outskirts of a small town, and I’m a brother to five younger siblings. Beyond that, though? It’s like I have no core, no real self, that I’m just going through the motions of day-to-day existence. As long as I keep my mind on my work, I don’t have to ask or wonder, “Who am I?” The other question that terrifies me is, “When’s the next round with Father?” “Son? It’s time. Meet me in the barn.” Already? My heart leaped into my throat. We both knew the unfinished part of that command was “for another discipline session.” What had I done wrong? Frantically, I tried to remember any misdeeds over the past week. Neglecting my chores? Nah. I’d done them all and done them well. Slow progress in my homeschooling? Also no. How could I be behind in my studies if all I was allowed to study were the three Rs? Picking on my five younger siblings? As much as I liked to tease them, I tried to protect them from Father’s wrath. Maybe that was it. I stood up from my desk – fit for a kid – and prepared myself. There could be no hesitation, no dragging my feet, as I left the house and went outside. Birds chirped, delighted at the unusually warm April air, unaware of what would soon transpire. I learned that word a couple of weeks ago through reading the dictionary, one of my few allowed hobbies. Another one was browsing Mother’s ancient set of encyclopedias, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Father was waiting. When I entered the barn, he surprised me by making no move to take off his belt. In fact, he looked like he was holding something behind his back. “Hello, Isaac.” When he called me that instead of Zach or “son,” I knew something serious was up. “Sir?” “Recite for me, if you would, 1 Corinthians 13:11.” I knew that verse well. Father quoted it whenever he wanted to push me. “‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’” “Very good. Bring the lamb.” Another bolt of fear ripped through me, strong enough to make me shudder. We only had one lamb, a yearling male. Against Father’s advice, I’d secretly named him, and what’s more, I’d named him Aries. You might wonder where I’d learned such heresy, but that’s where Mother’s encyclopedias come in. How could she and Father not have predicted that I’d eventually get to “Z” for “zodiac?” I was fascinated with it, reading that entry repeatedly, memorizing the signs and their meanings. With my birthday on March 21, I came into this world on the very first day of the Aries season. That was also the day, one year ago, that Father gave me a newborn lamb to raise. “Aries? Hey, Aries?” He leaned forward as I approached his stall, then nuzzled my hand insistently. “Sorry, buddy. No treats yet. Come with me, okay?” Just like Mary’s companion, he came toward me, eager for pets and handouts. I, however, found my legs made of lead. They wouldn’t let me move, trudge toward Father, or take a single step. “Isaac?” With all my strength, I forced myself to face my foe. Aries followed. “First of all, I must commend you for taking such good care of him. You never let his stall get too dirty, and you keep him well-fed and watered. Healthy and strong, which is exactly what we need. You may not remember this Bible verse, but if you can, recite Exodus 12:5.” My heart sank, and not just because I was drawing a complete blank. “Uh…” “‘Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male of the first year: ye shall take it out from the sheep, or the goats.’ Originally, it was meant to be eaten at a Passover feast. However, here, as I have done, and my father before me, and his father before him, we offer up a lamb on the first day of spring to atone for our sins and celebrate the earth’s return to life. Now it’s your turn.” I couldn’t believe it. “You want me to kill him?” “‘Sacrifice’ is the right word.” My jaw dropped. I pointed my index finger in Father’s face. “You set me up.” “Yes, but not to fail. Back up a step.” I didn’t. “You have me raise this lamb, love him like my own child, and now…Why?!” “So you will become a man and learn to bear the weight of innocent life on your shoulders.” As if to emphasize the point, Aries bleated and nudged my hand again. “You know what? No.” “What did you just say to me?” “No. N-O. I’m not going to kill the gift you gave me for some bullshit reason. Yes, I said ‘bullshit.’ He’s my best friend in the whole world, and Aries – ” I swallowed hard. “Aries deserves to live.” “You named him after blasphemy? I ought to punish you like a child, but you’re sixteen years old. I believe we’ve gone beyond that point. Recall Exodus 22.” Unlike Exodus 12:5, the whole story in 22 had been seared into my brain, and not only as a consequence for misbehavior. It was a reminder of my namesake: “The near-death of Isaac.” “Yes. The LORD called upon Abraham to give his only son as a burnt offering. Isaac was scared and confused, wondering where the sacrifice was. Abraham said, ‘God will provide himself a lamb.’” “So it’s either Aries or me? Are you fucking crazy?” “Was Abraham mad? I daresay not. He was the most faithful man God ever put on this earth. He was ready, willing, and able to do what the LORD wanted him to do. So am I.” “I don’t believe you. I won’t.” “If you do not do as I say, the darkness that surrounds us will swallow you whole.” I’d heard this bit dozens of times before, but all I could say was, “What?” “The darkness is always there, at its peak in winter. Now that spring has come, we must banish it. We must forsake all evil, cleaving only to the word of the LORD our God.” “What god do you worship? He must be cruel and vindictive like you.” Father scowled. “Choose, son. What will you give up to prove your faith – that lamb or yourself?” “Neither. I’m getting out of here. And what’s behind your back, Dad?” Father rushed me. A sudden, excruciating pain in my head overtook me. I felt my body hit the barn floor with a thud. My last thought before everything went dark was “garden hoe.” When I came to, I found myself outside, shirtless, yet still in blue jeans and shoes. I lay upon a stack of pallets covered with straw. I tried to move but could only moan. What the hell? Everything became clear once I wiped my watery eyes and saw what Father was carrying: a large coil of rope in one hand and a can of gasoline in the other. I heard Aries cry nearby. I sat bolt upright, stood up, picked him up, and started running. “Zach!” Father bellowed. “Get back here!” I know what you’re thinking – I should’ve left Aries behind to save my skin. However, when push comes to shove and your best pal is in as much danger as you, you take him along for the ride, however short it may be. Our only hope was to head for the woods on the border of our farm. Father and Mother always said the darkness was at its most powerful there, so we should never venture too far in, and never after sunset. However, I’d hunted rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional deer, which required me to go deep and stay long. The only darkness I’d encountered was natural nightfall, and I wasn’t scared as I made my way back home. Now, carrying a lamb in my arms and depending on my own two feet to save my life, I was terrified. My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I sprinted through the forest, now threatening and alien. My feet kept slipping on the damp leaves from last fall. Budding trees blurred past me, sunlight barely piercing the canopy. Behind me, heavy footsteps crashed through the underbrush. Father was taking his time. I’d run out of time. I risked a glance over my shoulder. A dark figure, slow but relentless, was closing in. Panic surged through me. I veered off the narrow path I’d taken many times before, darting between thick tree trunks, my fingers grazing rough bark for balance. Thorns clawed at my bare arms, but I couldn’t slow down. A root jutted out from the earth. Too late—my foot caught. I hit the ground hard, pain jolting up my wrists. Aries bleated loudly and wriggled underneath me. The footsteps thundered closer. Desperate, I scrambled up, grabbed Aries, and bolted again. My lungs burned, and my torso and arms were slick with sweat. Ahead, a fallen log blocked the way. I lunged, vaulting over it just as a strong hand swiped at my back, barely missing. A growl of frustration echoed behind me. My heart pounded. A break in the trees—a chance. I dashed toward it, pushing past low branches until I stumbled into an unfamiliar clearing. There was no way out. “Isaac!” Father cried, his legs propelling him hard and fast. “Give me that lamb.” “No!” “You made the wrong choice, son, and now you’re going to pay.” He made a mad dash toward me, but I sidestepped it easily. My old man ran into a tree. Father fell to his knees and started coughing hard. I could have run, gone back the way I’d come, but I was frozen in place. Some sort of black smoke curled out of his nostrils, then poured out of his mouth as well. He shut his eyes against the onslaught of more coughs, but the fit continued. All I could do was put Aries down – damn, he was heavy – and watch the unfolding scene. The fog became blacker and thicker, not stretching up toward the sky like regular smoke but spreading outward. I instinctively knew that this was the darkness my whole family feared, and I mustn’t let it inside me. I shut my eyes and held my breath. The darkening mist inched closer. Pressure began to build, not only in my lungs but behind my eyelids. I struggled to remain upright. Father’s hacking echoed like thunder in my ears. He also choked. Above these sounds, I could hear Aries bleating, over and over, at the top of his little lungs. I had to open my eyes, which felt like they were bulging out of my skull. What I saw, I will never forget, not if I live to be a hundred. The smoke had coalesced into a crude, bloated face. The face of the god Father worshiped. It made a low, guttural sound: raspy breathing combined with an attempt to speak. I wouldn’t let it. Nor would Aries. To my surprise, he charged forward and passed through it, dispelling it into thin air. My father finally finished coughing. Blood oozed out of his mouth. Against every bit of my better judgment, I stepped toward him and helped him to stand. Tears filled his eyes. “My son,” Father wept. “Our Lord needed blood – and a new host.” “Hell no. The darkness is gone now. Aries scared it away.” I stared at Father hard. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll find our way out of these woods, and after that, you’ll never whip me again. You’ll treat me with respect, and the rest of the family too. I won’t be homeschooled anymore, either. I’ll enroll in the local high school. There’s so much more to learn than reading, writing, basic math, and – whatever that thing was.” I shook my head to clear it. “As for Aries? He’s going to live out his natural life, not be slaughtered for any reason whatsoever.” Father nodded, trembling all over. Everything transpired just as I said. Instead of being belligerent, Father was as meek as my best buddy. He didn’t lift his hand – or his belt – to any of us, and barely raised his voice above a low murmur. All would seem to be well, but I see the Lord of the Flies in my nightmares, his smoky, bloated visage hovering over mine. Watching and waiting for me to open my mouth and mind. He speaks, announcing his existence: “I AM.” Well, guess what? It’s Aries season, and “I am” too. Credit: Tenet Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.