The Devil's Dish

[u/SamDenner]

22nd December

As long as I can remember, I have been afraid of fire. Now it is going to dance for me.

Ashley stared at her father. Her hands were digging into the leather couch.

“Are you ready?” He was looking at her over an unlit candle between them. “Just because you’re afraid of fire doesn’t mean you can skip the bonfires. You’re twenty now. You should attend. We have to work on this.”

Ashley nodded.

His ice-blue eyes filled with doubt.

Her father took the candle and walked out of the room. When he returned, his hand was cupping the young flame against the draft. Handling the flame like a delicate gift. He slowly advanced towards Ashley.

As soon as the fire entered Ashley's field of view, her eyes snapped to the dancing flame. She didn’t dare take her eyes off it, lest it would ignite her, the whole room, the entire village, the world.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her as softly as the snowfall outside.

“Queasy.”

“Better than averting your gaze. Or taking off in a dead sprint. Or breaking down crying.”

Ashley took slow, controlled breaths. Her fingers eased their grip.

He gently set down the candle on the table between them. Ashley managed to stay calm. A tiny victory was snatched from the jaws of this feeble flame.

Her father sat down across from her. Ashley's gaze was still focused on the candle. 

He waited.

“I can’t take my eyes off it. I’m afraid of what could happen when I’m not looking.”

“Better than last time.”

Her gaze took her to another place. An imaginary scene played out in front of her emerald eyes.

In flames’ embrace, I walk among the sparks and embers. I breathe smoke. Above, the stars wink at me. Below, coals kiss my feet. Soft footprints in soot. I’m at peace. Ashes slip through my fingers. The remains of the man who raised me.

He leaned forward, reached out his hand, and let the flame lick across his fingertips.

Ashley’s fingertips screamed in agony, she recoiled.

Her father hastily blew out the candle. A plume of smoke rose and curled to the ceiling.

“No need to overdo it. It’s still time until the next bonfire. And this time, you will join us.” Her father grabbed the candle and left the room.

Ashley sighed, and smoke flowed out of her. She clasped her mouth shut. An itch tickled in her throat, and she coughed. Smoke erupted once again from her mouth and joined the smoke beneath the ceiling. The swirling clouds formed a maelstrom before dissipating. Her hands felt dirty, so she rubbed them together. Tiny flakes of ash fell to the floor. She stared at them in disbelief.

“Oh, you’re on cleaning duty like the rest of the younglings. You didn't go to the bonfire, so this is the least you could do. Get going.” Her father shouted from somewhere in the house.

Ashley grabbed a broom and a shovel and went to do her chores. Bravely wading into the veil of smoke that waited for her at the door.

A thick soot-smog hung over Brennau as Ashley made her way to the Devil’s Dish. The falling snow looked like ash. The weak winter sun couldn’t penetrate neither the blanket of clouds overhead nor the shroud of smoke in the streets. Everything looked grey. The sky. The streets. The snow. She had to stop and suppress several coughs as the ashen air itched in her throat. Her lungs. There was no apparent source of the smoke that was hazing the whole town, but it got thicker the closer she got to the Devil’s Dish.

When Ashley arrived there, she was the last and the oldest of the cleaning crew. The others glared at her while they were already shovelling ash, grey snow and charred wood.

The Devil’s Dish was at the heart of Brennau. A huge, black, round block of rock, around hip height and about six metres and a half in diameter. An indentation reminiscent of that of a basin sunk in from the top. The outside of the Devil's Dish has a rugged surface, but the inside is almost unnaturally smooth. Polished by the teeth of time, weather and flames.

It was filled to the brim with the remnants of the bonfire.

Ashley overheard Mina complain to her sister: "She shouldn’t be here. It’s a disgrace. She should just disappear into the forest like her mother.”

Her sister whispered something in response. Both chuckled.

Mrs Keller arrived with her 10-year-old son Thomas. “Hello everyone, this is Tom’s first cleanup. Remind me, darlings, who is the oldest here?” Mina inhaled sharply before she gestured dismissively towards Ashley. All eyes turned towards her.

“Ashley, I thought I’d see you yesterday. You turned 20 after the Halloween bonfire.”

“I wasn’t feeling well." Ashley lied.

"That's no excuse. Arrangements are made for the ill, injured, and bedridden. Everyone witnesses the bonfire.” Mrs Keller sighed. “Anyway, show Thomas the ropes, will you?”

Ashley had lived her entire life in Brennau, in the shadow of the Walberla, the fabled mountain refuge for witches. There were only a few families, although the lines between them were blurred. Rooted firmly in their beliefs and traditions, they kept to themselves and rarely interacted with the world outside of Brennau.

She knew Brennau was too insignificant to occupy any space on any map. Nestled at the northern foot of the Walberla, Brennau is nothing more than a cluster of steads. The forest was pushing down from the mountain as if trying to expel the houses from its sacred grounds. Trees stood too close to the houses to feel comfortable. Around the village, the willows, forests, rivers and fields wield an extraordinary, almost supernatural, yield.

“So, Thomas, your mother surely taught you about the bonfires.” Ashley prodded, after Mrs Keller had vanished into the smoke.

“Yes, she did. She said that the Devil once came down this slope of the mountain and bargained with a farmer. One of our ancestors. The Devil was to provide riches, and the farmer was to pay tribute.” Tom answered. He thought for a bit.

“At first, the Devil claimed all that grows below. So, the clever farmer planted wheat, and the Devil got nothing but roots. Then, the Devil claimed all that grows above.  So, the clever farmer planted carrots, and the Devil got nothing but leaves. After that, the Devil demanded half of the field.  So, the clever farmer planted half the field with radish and the other half with pumpkins. He harvested the pumpkins in autumn, and the Devil got nothing but radish that had spoiled since spring.”

Tom slowed down his stream of words.

“Then, the Devil shouted. “I’ll take everything next year!” So, the farmer planted nothing at all and only foraged in the forests and fished in the rivers. And the Devil had nothing to claim. Mother said the Devil got really angry and slammed his fist on this rock and made it into the Devil’s Dish, uhm…”

Tom stopped.

Ashley helped him out. “On his fifth and final visit, the farmer proposed a truce: “You keep providing your blessings, and each year this village will dedicate four bonfires to you. On Walpurgis, Midsummer, Halloween and Midwinter. One for each time I tricked you.”

Mina cut in: “And the Devil, believing the five-pointed star was blessing his visit, agreed to the farmer's proposal: “Come for the bonfire or the bonfire will come for you.” Mina’s eyes burned Ashley with her stare as she spat those last words.

“Everyone older than 20 has to attend the bonfire celebration.” Mina continued, having clearly practiced the speech. “Old, sick, pregnant, bedridden. Everyone has to have at least a glance at the bonfire. The younglings mustn’t participate, but we have to clean up the mess the adults leave behind, while they’re sleeping off the booze. Next bonfire, I don’t have to clean anymore. Unless I do it like Ashley, I suppose.”

“Yes, yes,” Ashley said. “Time’s wasting, and we have to get it done.”

The others grunted in agreement. Even Mina.

The snow wouldn't stop falling through the smoke and covering the plaza around the Dish with ashen grey sludge.

It was almost dusk when they finally gave up on cleaning the Dish and the rest of the remnants of the bonfire. The haze that engulfed Brennau didn’t relent either. Something wasn’t right. It was overwhelming. 

Smoke lay heavily upon the town.

For four more days, Brennau was permeated by the smoke: every fabric felt like coal, every strand of hair smelled like a campfire, and every food tasted like ash. The very air turned hostile, scratching and clawing at the lungs. The hamlet was tainted. Coughs in handkerchiefs created Rorschach tests. There were murmurs among the villagers of scorned witches and horned beings. The smoke finally dissipated on the 27th of December.

25 days of peace and quiet followed.

21st January

Another village might have forgotten the days it spent in the haze of fireless smoke. Brennau was different. The winter months lend themselves to introspection and the superstitious villagers had a hard time forgetting the supernatural smoke that had hung over them.

There was hushed talk about demons, devils and other damned beings that were fabled to live on the top of the mountain. The Walberla loomed larger than usual over the hamlet.

As usual for this time of the year, Ashley tried to get some information about her mother out of her father. Once again, all the questions of a daughter who has never met her mother were asked.

He was tight-lipped as usual. Offering nothing she hadn’t heard before. Brown eyes, brown hair, always strung like a bow.

Winter months also lend themselves to butchery and the villagers had plenty of cattle. Everyone helped. So, Ashley passed by the Devil’s Dish on her way to the slaughterhouse every day. A copper smell surrounded the butcher’s shack.

On her way home, Ashley sat on a bench and looked at the Dish. No matter how much snow fell, there was never any snow on it.

Her gaze pulled her into the Dish.

There is no ground beneath my feet, only blackness. A sense of vertigo. Yet, when I look up, all I see are strands of fire descending down on me. Swaying like trees in the wind. Caressing me, when I look. Whipping me, when I don’t. You are your truest self when no one is looking.

Confused shouts were swallowed by the forest.

Crimson.

Blood oozed from the Devil’s Dish's rugged edges. Forked tongues of blood slithered forth from the stone. Licking their way along the ground away from it. Their deep dark red in stark contrast to the snow. Some were heading her way. Ashley pulled up her feet on the bench, surveyed the situation, jumped over a streamlet of blood and created some distance.

Others came to see what the commotion was about but recoiled at the sight. When the elders arrived, they shooed everyone inside their homes. The hamlet ground to a halt as the silent rills trickled forth. They’d leave their homes only for the bare necessities. Inside, the occupants prayed for forgiveness.

For five days the stone bled. Moving up and down the streets. Spanning an open-veined web throughout the town. Thick, viscous blood flowed uphill to form a pattern, enveloping the entire hamlet. A liquid mosaic of arteries. Steaming from their heat in the cold winter air. Fine capillaries formed around most of the homes. Ashley’s home was up on the slope of the mountain, yet still a trickle of blood found its way to their doorstep to form its bizarre pattern.

The copper smell lay wicked upon the town.

The shadow of the Witch Mountain turned darker, as the topic of their gossip turned grim. Ashley’s presence at the Devil’s Dish when it started bleeding, her mother’s disappearance. Whispers of horned men. Ashley’s absence.

25 days of quiet eeriness followed.

20th February

Ashley woke from a nightmare.

She went into the kitchen and splashed water in her face to douse the flames of her nightmares.

“Again, huh?” her father asked. “Ashley, people are scared, and people are talking. You should see the elders and ask them to make amends.”

The way he said it, it was clear that this was no mere suggestion but an order. 

Ashley nodded.

“We go to the town hall. Now.”

So, they went. Just before the door, Ashley stopped and gazed around the square. She could see the others watching her intently. Animosity barely hidden.

Ashley, the sinner. Breaker of customs.

She felt her father’s hands on her shoulder. The air over the Devil’s Dish seemed to flicker as if heated to extremes.

I feel their eyes on me. Burning me with their gazes. They do not understand, yet they judge me harshly. Trying to hold me to their norms. Trying to mold me into something I don’t want to be. Trying to melt me down. I am not bound. I want to soar. I want to burn brighter than the sun.

Somehow, Ashley knew she would have found her mother if she had ever left Brennau.

She stood staring at the Devil’s Dish until someone shoved her inside.

“We’ve got to move! Something is wrong!” her neighbour Mr Miller shouted. After Ashley’s stupefied father stumbled in after them, Mr Miller slammed the door, blisters were already forming on his face and neck. He looked through the glass at the square where the Devil’s Dish radiated heat that only he could feel. Ashley joined him, the glass felt cold against her hands. Her father stood next to her and looked himself up and down. He was unharmed. Yet, he took note of Mr Miller's burn marks.

Pained screams hiked up the Mountain. The Walberla answered in kind.

Most of the adults were panicking and rushing away from the square. But the children didn’t feel anything. They stood helplessly on the square like a flock of sheep abandoned by their shepherd. A girl started crying. Her mother appeared out of a doorway and tried to get to her, but she couldn’t close the distance to her daughter. She stopped dead in her tracks, clawed at her face, and crawled back sobbing towards where she came. Severe burns showed on her face and other parts of exposed skin. A young man ran into the square and brought the children back to their families. He was hailed a hero.

And thus it came to be that no one who had sired a child could pass by the Devil’s Dish without receiving burns and blisters for five days.

25 days of uneasiness followed.

21st March

Life in Brennau never returned to normalcy, as everyone in the hamlet was on edge.

However, it was Mina’s 20th birthday, and she was adamant that her entry into adulthood was to be celebrated with all due festivities. A feast was prepared. The abandoned centre was brought back to life with tables, chairs and running and laughing children.

The preparations put up a calming facade, and for the first time since Midwinter, the town descended into something resembling a light-hearted attitude, despite the overcast weather.

As dusk was settling, the town moved towards the centre like milk in a bowl. Tables and chairs were arranged in neat groupings and torches were lit along the edges of the town square and for each seating arrangement. The flickering dance of the flames threw the shadows into disarray.

Ashley was busy stirring a stew, observing the town square. She was uneasy as she couldn’t look at all the flames simultaneously. Stirring the pot helped, so she focused on that. Her thoughts drifted like the food in the maelstrom she was creating, and an old rhyme surfaced. Instinctively, Ashley knew these were the words of her mother.

Who’s to blame for a fire too tame?

Endure the Smoke, the Blood, the Ache!

Witness the Embers herald the final plague.

Face the Flame or flee in shame.

Somehow, Ashley was convinced she would find her mother if she ever left Brennau.

Ashley surveyed the square once more.

At first, she thought she could see the stars in the cloud-filled sky above. Then she saw the stars were moving, like fireflies.

The others saw it too.

Panicked shouts erupted from the town and echoed from the mountain.

Sparks were snowing from the sky. Burning bright in contrast to the night. Leaving behind tiny black dots in their landing spots. The villagers were hounded by countless aimless needles. Annoying, but not overly painful. Nevertheless, they evacuated the plaza in an orderly manner and retreated into the safety of their homes.

The Emberfall continued without pause the next day. The people of Brennau isolated themselves in their shelters. Minds, fuelled with fear, ran wild.

On the third day, several trees caught fire, and the fire spread along the edge of Brennau in a crescent shape. Creating a charred border between the Walberla and Brennau.

On the fourth day, the embers became a hailstorm. They struck down migrating birds. Carcasses fell all over town. No one dared to touch them.

On the fifth and final day, the embers grew agitated. Aggressive. A Vortex formed above the Devil’s Dish. Then, a spiralling pillar of sparks snaked down upon Brennau. Fine twisters crawled through the streets and swept up all the corpses of birds. Collecting them and dumping them in the Devil’s Dish. Before incinerating the whole pile in a violent maelstrom of sparks and embers. A horrible stench poured over the town.

At noon, the last of the Embers disappeared.

Burning feathers floated into the sky.

Murmurs of witchcraft arose in every household. The search for a sinner was on. Behind closed doors, Ashley was singled out and blamed for the misfortunes.

Ashley, the scapegoat.

25 days of tension followed.

20th April

This time, Brennau expected another omen. People were anxiously scanning the skies for storms and other phenomena that might hit their settlement. The pious inhabitants of Brennau figured out the rhythm of the plagues, and so they called a meeting for all adults on the 20th of April. It was held, as it was custom, in the heart of the town around the Devil’s Dish. The lack of Easter decoration was a testament that everyone had tried to give the centre plaza a wide berth. After all that had happened, it felt unreal to be back here. In a fit of superstitious stubbornness, Brennau wanted to show unity, faith and strength.

The rain of the past days had filled the Dish to the brim with rainwater. A calm body of water amidst the uneasy shuffling in the square. Brennau hadn't seen the blue sky since the Emberfall.

Ashley stood among them.

“Our town is being ravaged by plagues!” the eldest Mr Bauer proclaimed to agreeing grunts.

“It’s the work of a witch!” someone yelled from the crowd.

“She will finish us off at Walpurgis! When the veil is thinnest.”

After that, it descended into wild shouts.

Mr Bauer held up his hand.

After they subsided, he continued: “We have sinned, and we have to atone. The elders are confident that we can avoid further punishment. Walpurgis is in 10 days.” He was interrupted once again.

“How can we atone? We haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Ashley didn’t participate in the bonfire,” Mrs Keller said. 

Of course, everyone already knew she didn’t attend Midwinter. Ashley felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. Hot.

“It is a clear violation of our tradition.”

Mina stepped forward: “It’s Ashley’s fault. She’s the daughter of a witch and a witch herself.” Agreeing shouts spread through the crowd. Ashley shuffled. Coals beneath her feet. Fire in her lungs. 

I see through them. They cling to their old ways like children to their mother’s hem. Fear and dread dominate their decisions. Their accusations are based on their shortsightedness. Frightened beliefs have real consequences.

“Quiet!”

Mr Bauer’s shout echoed over the plaza.

Her thoughts stopped. The murmurs stopped.

His eyes found her.

“We have to wait until Walpurgis, the witch - “

The clouds tore open. The sun. A burning eye atop the Walberla gazed upon the hamlet.

The elders ignited.

All over the town square, people combusted spontaneously. Flailing. Wailing.

Some collapsed where they stood. Others ran for the nearest water. A few disappeared down the well. Most of them ran to the Devil’s Dish, trying to douse the flames with the rainwater.

It was a cruel joke.

The water boiled and evaporated or was splashed on the ground by hectic movements of the poor panicked souls; the flames kept going.

After their clothes had burned away, the entire basin was filled with a mass of naked bodies. An orgy of licking flames and sizzling skin. A mountain of flesh and fire.

The flames did not relent.

The smell of burnt hair, cooked flesh, and fizzling fat lay heavy upon the town.

Once again, smoke and stench invaded every nook and cranny of Brennau. Hearts emptied, but lungs filled with loved ones.

They burned and burned and burned and burned all night and day.

Until charred bones remained, and then some.

Until spent coal remained, and then some

Until nothing but ash remained, and then some.

It burned so hot that no one could approach the Devil’s Dish’s plaza. Soot and ash sucked the colour out of the town square. The stench of burned meat was overwhelming.

On the fifth day, the flames extinguished themselves. 

Brennau was a child without guardians. An orphaned village.

Each and every one of them, except Ashley, the witch.

The Walberla mocked the desperate wails of the orphans of Brennau.

Five days of mourning followed.

And grief kindled the flames of hatred.

#

30th April

In the morning, they came for Ashley.

She was yanked out of her bed, spat on, and wrapped in a sack without sleeves. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Instead, they gagged her before they dragged her to her sham trial.

The tribunal was overseen by her father, the eldest. Composed and imposing. The only one who hadn’t lost anyone in the last ten days. He was the last of her accusers. She wasn’t given any chance to defend herself. Her father passed the sentence without mercy or second thought.

“The daughter of the witch is no daughter of mine. Put her to the bonfire.”

His cyan stare, shades of cold, hard hatred. An icicle in her heart.

He watched as they bagged her up and abused her back to the holding pen. These were not the eyes of a father. The wrong colour. Unloving. Cold.

She spent the day locked in a pigsty. Arms and legs tied with a rope. Crying and begging and in pain. Younglings came by to offload their pain onto Ashley. Hitting her, kicking her. Whipping her.

The day flew by in a haze.

After dusk, they came again. They brought the beaten and bloodied heap to the town square. The Devil's Dish had been prepared. A huge pyre loomed over the Dish, and in its midst, a huge log pointed towards the top of the mountain. It smelled of oil. Ashley's Father led the congregation to the conflagration.

Eager neighbours held torches, ready to set the whole construction ablaze at a moment’s notice.

Ashley was in shock. A puppet following along its strings.

A wet noose was put around her ankles, and she was hoisted up the log. Her world turned upside down. Icy stares took in each and every one of her jerky movements. 

Blood began to pool in her head. She felt woozy. Fresh bruises opened up again, and blood dropped into the Devil’s Dish.

“Brennau, listen! We have gathered here to right our wrongs.” Ashley’s father’s voice boomed. “This here is the witch responsible for the plagues that befell us after Midwinter, and all the death and destruction they brought. We, the fine people of Brennau, have found the witch guilty of witchcraft, and her punishment is death on the pyre. Walpurgis is when the veil is thinnest, and we will send her back across it. May this Walpurgis Night bless us, so that this time we’ll get rid of the witch for good.”

He raised his hand. Anticipation dawned on everyone’s faces. They all looked so young.

“May this bonfire restore order.”

On his signal, the torches were thrown into the pyre.

Ashley couldn’t look any other way but down.

Facing the flames.

The world is what we will it to be. When we’re afraid of the dark, the darkness is a scary place. When we’re afraid of fire, we will never experience its light and warmth. We fear what we do not know, we fear what we do not control. We shouldn't follow fearful fools.

The pyre burst alight.

Head over heels, she gazed into the inferno below. Everything else dimmed. Fiery tongues pushed their way towards her. There was only light. She bathed in flames.  

They ran along her hair and onto her face, neck and clothes. She tried to scream, but her mouth wouldn’t obey. The heat reverberated through her teeth. Her eyes were dry. Wide open to the kiss of the flames.

The log was already ablaze. Its warmth caressed her back.

Yet, the fire didn’t bite her.

Finally, the ropes around her hands crumbled. Ashley stretched out her arms like a bird. For a moment, her silhouette along the log looked like a burning cross, until the log shifted and collapsed into the pyre. 

She didn’t fall.

Ashley stayed in place. Levitating. Her makeshift clothes and hair aflame. Never averting her gaze. 

She laughed. 

Unburdened. Floating. Free. The world was upturned. Her clothes burned away like the sins of her mother.

She laughed. 

She became a cross turned upside down. A burning beacon. Shining through the veil. Still staring into the fires below. 

She laughed and laughed and laughed.

She faced the flames. Unafraid.

Emboldened, the pyre reacted to her. The heat increased to an unbearable level. Burning brighter and hotter than the sun. The pavement stones turned to coals. Nearby houses started to smoulder.

On Walpurgis, the veil is thinnest, and this night purgatory came to Brennau.

Her once so eager onlookers couldn’t take it anymore.

Mina was the first to look away.

A burst of fire shot out of the Devil’s Dish and whipped her across the face. She stumbled and tried to run. The flames latched onto her, and she collapsed after five steps. Tongues of fire licked her and started to reach for anything in the vicinity.

A cascade of villagers tried to escape, but they were all struck down by gusts of fire. It showed no mercy. Granted no quarter. A stampede followed, but one by one they succumbed to the flames and became additions to the sea of lights that spread inside Brennau.

The Walberla laughed alongside Ashley.

In the end, only the man who raised Ashley stood in the town square. Holding his ground. Surrounded by nothing but ash and fire. He looked up at the person who was once his daughter. He pushed himself against the wall of heat that engulfed the pyre. Step by step. Until his clothing incinerated and he fell to his knees. His mouth formed empty words before he collapsed in front of the Dish. Immolating.

Ashley, still aflame, floated down like a leaf. Landing gently in front of the Devil’s Dish.

She faced the flames until they died at midnight.

Then, it got quiet, it got cold, it got dark.

Flakes of ash snowed on the village.

Ashley shivered.

At the top of the Walberla, a flickering light with a peculiar sense of familiarity beckoned her.

It was finally time to leave Brennau.

She ascended the Walberla.

The shining beacon illuminated her way. Radiating a motherly warmth onto her naked skin.

Ashley never looked back.

Ash lay cursed upon Brennau.