Long echoes chime in the cavern as the acolytes ascend the steps. They carry between them a flat box. An offering.
At the great stone gates they halt. Prayers are mumbled in the dim torchlight. Incantations made. When they are done they open a small hatch in the stonework and slide the box into its abyssal depths.
Silence for a moment. Then a scraping on the other side of the door. They acolytes shuffle nervously. Then sniffing. Then a grunt. Ravenous gorging. Slobbers and gnashing.
The acolytes glance at one another. Then the box is thrown back though the hole, tattered and smattered with molten cheese and blobs of tomato.
They nod to one another. The god is appeased, for now. Soon he’ll be ready. Soon he’ll feast.
Paddy Dobson
10th November 2021