Please give me another chance. I know. I fucked things up the first time around. I’d like to make it right. If you’ll give me a chance to do so.
I know I got the carvings correct. You said so yourself. But I realize that was about the place where my success ended. I didn’t have enough pieces to put everything together. The little figurines were all lined up in a row, reflective of the various gods they represented. But I was missing the connective tissue that would bind them all together.
So of course, I went out into nature to find what I needed. But the boar sinew I collected just fell apart when I tried to incorporate it into the sculpture. The magic wasn’t strong enough to hold everything together. I tried chicken gizzards. Squirrel toes. The stomach of an elderly elk. Nothing worked.
I could sense your exasperation with me — and with the failed processes I kept trying. You wouldn’t help me, though. Kept telling me I needed to discover the secret for myself. Well, I have, and that’s why you’re now tranquilized and bound to the table next to the carvings.
You see, I realized I needed blood. Heart blood. And not just from any animal. Because animals don’t worship gods. We do. So I needed something human to bind the figurines together, to incorporate the shrine.
I ask for another chance, but in reality, I’m simply taking it. From you. Your heart should contain enough blood for me to christen the figurines, the carvings I worked so hard on. Once I drain the blood from your heart, I’ll also mash your heart up into a paste. That’ll be the connective tissue I need to bind the figurines, and the gods they represent, to me. So, thank you for your sacrifice. And thank you for giving me another chance. You will truly be missed.
