Daig of the Wicker Man

“I’m innocent!” Daig shouted.

The three druids ignored him and continued the wicker man ritual.

The first druid lit his torch.

“You’re as good as ash,” said a thief, while mooning the druids and laughing wildly.

“I’m of the Redwood Clan!” Daig said. “I’m just a messenger!”

The second druid lit his torch.

“Let it rest,” said a murderer, as he tugged on Daig’s orange hair. Daig spun around in the confined space and head-butted the man.

The thief laughed some more.

The third druid lit his torch.

With a bloody forehead, Daig faced the druids once more. “So help you all, if I burn this night, I will seek vengeance!”

The druids threw their torches on the wicker man.

It was true. Daig was innocent. They needed one more convict for the ritual but had none… until Daig came along.

Crackling flame, crazy laugher, and caustic screams filled the night.

Daig was silent as the fire consumed his flesh.

The wicker man did not burn to the ground that night—it walked, and vengeance was had.

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