Here’s my response to today’s prompt by the Fiction Dealer.
The boy’s lips quivered and tears formed in his eyes.
“Father, must I do this?”
The man put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. “Yes, my son. The gods have chosen you. This isn’t just a great responsibility, but a grand honor.”
The boy gulped. “Okay. I’m ready.”
The man led his son up the stairs to the altar. The boy stood over the golden bowl. The father held his dagger high above his head, said a prayer in a long-forgotten language, and then slit the boy’s throat. His blood spilled into the golden bowl and the people cheered.