The Chosen

The great serpent slithered around the jungle at night searching for those who were sleeping as prey. Piglets and kids caught unaware slid down Set's gullet without ever awakening.
A neighboring jungle tribe saw Set and knew Set for a god.
As Set grew so did the hunger of Set. Set boldly began to hunt by day.
All creatures fled before Set except those that had gazed into Set's eyes.
The worshipers of Set prostrated themselves before Set disrobing first to prevent indigestion.
They greased their skin with easily digestible oils to more easily side down the gullet of Set.
Set would slither among their prostrate forms. When Set choose them and opened Set's cavernous jaws invitingly, they would give a final push off with their feet; wreathing sensuously down the throat of Set until they joyously suffocated. Set would urge them along swiftly with the powerful muscles in Set's throat, sometimes still conscious when they reached Set's stomach and began to be digested.
A woman with her babe in her arms threw her child into Set's gaping jaws with a joyous cry, then followed herself with a mighty lunge, an expression of a mad ecstasy gracing her features.
The priest knew the time for the feeding of Set through careful observation. He would line up the willing sacrifices from nubile virgins to the old and the infirm. Everyone is acceptable to Set.
The sensual dance that they did imitated their final plunge down the gullet of Set. They drank deeply of fermented juices spiked with narcotic herbs. They fornicated indiscriminately.
The priest ushered the last member of the tribe into the presence of Set at the appropriate time.
A nubile maiden, she patiently awaited to be chosen; when Set offered to choose her, she eagerly met the strike of Set with a powerful lunge. She disappeared into Set’s gullet down to her knees. Set raised her high; she effortlessly disappeared down Set’s gullet and into Set’s stomach. Her heart beat a while as she was digested.
The next feeding time, the priest was alone. He hung up his vestments and prepared himself with a digestible oil. He offered himself to Set and was accepted. He remained conscious well into being digested.
The worshipers are long gone now, happy in their doom.
Set beckons. Set hungers.

About the Author

Larry Blazek lives on a small farm where he tinkers with mechanical devices, plays guitar, and gardens. Somewhere out there there is an underground CD of some of his songs. Red Ogre Review, Iron City, Poetry South, Westerly, and Ugly Duckling Press have recently published his work.