The Leper

The Leper bandaged the soles of his tattered feet. He was about to traverse the most dangerous part of the trail; the final stretch into the very furnace of the mountain.

The new year was fast approaching, and the annual accord was to be struck with Ao, the god of the volcano, to ensure that he would not rain down fire from the mountains for the next year.

This bargaining took place every year, often with an accompanying sacrifice and original song to please the ears of the mighty Ao. He demanded “catchy, uptempo” tunes. (Many men perished the year the village composer went through his “Smiths” phase, including the original ambassador to Ao. Thus, the job fell to the Leper.)

The Leper lived a mile from the village proper, and his was a good, albeit, lonely life. He had a field in his front yard for subsistence farming and a small herb garden in his kitchen window sill for “charm”, as he put it. Needless to say, his isolated lifestyle had warped his mind.

The slain goat was getting heavy on his back. He began to drag his feet as the smell of cinder and smoke filled his nostrils. He was getting close.

He was the obvious choice for this assignment, what with the inability to feel the intense heat of the mountain and all. He was rewarded handsomely by the village each year after the journey’s completion, yet still, he only did it begrudgingly.

He burned with envy at the thought of the others -- Sofia, and her yearly visit to the rain god, Ze, who was rumored to have an opulent in-ground swimming pool with a bitchin’ waterslide. Marcus, too, had it easy. He got to visit Ki, goddess of dairy, every year returning twelve pounds fatter, breath reeking of ice-cream. Then, there was Paul. He met with Ere, the goddess of desire. Everyone hated Paul.

The Leper made his way across the fiery bridge into the heart of Ao’s domain. There, just past the flames, the Leper could make out the wavy silhouette of the temperamental god, fidgeting upon his black throne. He cast a big, green eye on the Leper, walking with much trepidation now.

“Ah, is it that time of year already?” The Leper had grown to hate that big, booming voice. It sounded so forced, almost as if he were playing a caricature of himself.

“Yes. It’s that time.”

“Good. I’ve been lonely, and I’ve had some time to think.”

Oh, gods, the Leper silently groaned, another ‘deal’.

Every year, Ao had made it his custom to offer some great prize to sway the Leper from offering the song and sacrifice.

“No, Ao, I don’t want to hear about any limited time offer. Just accept the sacrifice and song and let’s be done with it.”

“But you haven’t heard my offer --”

“And I don’t care. Here’s your song -- “

“Listen, I haven’t blown up these mountains in, like, fifteen years. Please, don’t give me the sacrifice and song. Just hear me out.”

“Just take them and assuage your wrath for the next year. Let’s not make this any more painful than it has to be.”

“I can give you what you want.”

“There’s nothing you can offer me. We’ve been through this. I don’t want money, or a house, or a bevy of beautiful women -- “

“Well of course you don’t you can’t feel them anyways.”

“What?”

“You’re a leper, right? I mean, that’s why they send you up here. You can’t feel a thing.”

“You aren’t supposed to know that.”

“But I do.” Ao purred, “You want touch?” The Leper’s eyes grew wide. Ao went in for the kill. “Here’s my proposition. I talked to Nan, and she gave me the power that can cure you, so, all you have to do is walk away -- take that goat carcass and leave. You’ll have your trusty ol’ sense of touch back, and I’ll heap sulfur and ash upon that uptight village of yours.” Ao fanned his fingers in front of his face in an effort to be seductive or something. “Your old life, or your friends lives? The choice is in your hands, young --”

“Deal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Screw those guys.”

The Leper felt a warmth rising up inside of him as he set off down the opposite side of the mountain. He wasn’t sure if it came from Ao’s lair, or the renewed promise of no longer dying a virgin.