Short Story: Human Stupidity The goat stands in the centre of the field, nibbling casually at the green grass at its feet. Gradually, Jacob approaches, and other men of all ages, all dressed in dark clothes, arrive equally slowly and silently, until at last there is a cluster of about thirty in the middle of the pasture, all surrounding the lonesome goat. There is a great silence for a time, and people begin to whisper amongst themselves. Confused whispers, they were, and confused glances followed, all at the solitary goat and at the faces of the crowd. Eventually it all becomes too much. A tall man, with a grey, almost white beard contrasting with the black of his clothes, steps forward, introducing himself as Graham in a deep voice. "Why are we here?" Graham asks, his voice rumbling. A hush comes over the crowd. It seems they all had the same question. Jacob glances around. Most present seem to be older than him, in groups of two or three, and some hold a letter in their hands, identical to the one he had received the afternoon before. The letter had spoken of a cult meeting on that field, and to meet at the goat. "I only came to find out what this cult was preaching." Jacob says, surprising himself by speaking, his voice higher pitched than the other man's. It was true, too, and, judging by the bewildered faces of the other men, they'd come for same reason. "What is the meaning of this?!" Grumbles someone angrily, moving forward. His face was gruff, his scraggly facial hair black, and a large belly protruded from underneath his dark coat. "Someone had better tell me why I'm here, or so help me..." he continued. "Can't you see? No one knows!" Shouts someone, his voice high and proud. "Someone has to know what's what, or else why are we here?" Comes yet another voice, from yet another overly muscled man, pushing his way roughly to get a better look at the pale goat. Angry shouts follow this man's outburst, leaving Jacob looking around anxiously, until Graham pacifies them all with a single yell, saying, "can we not just think about this rationally!" A silence comes over them, and all eyes turn to Graham, Jacob's included. "Perhaps this goat is some kind of riddle?" He suggests, eyes scanning the crowd. No one seems to have any ideas on the subject. "I never thought I'd have to say this," says Graham, shaking his head, "but, take me to your leader!" The goat does nothing, merely chews at the long grass. "Perhaps it is meant to be the Devil?" A familiar voice, Jacob's neighbour, Andrew, suggests. The goat doesn't react, and it is generally accepted that it is not, in fact, the devil. "Is it a prophet?" Comes the voice of Andrew once more. "Then why hasn't it spoken yet? It can't be a prophet." Says Jacob, his eyes scanning Graham's face. "Is it God?" Another suggests, but the idea is quickly shut down by a number of voices. All eyes turn back to Graham and the goat. "You seem to know an awful lot. Perhaps you can tell us something?" Accuses the second man, his belly rising proudly, his flabby double chin wobbling with the words. Others join him in the accusation of Graham, but he seems to have as few answers as they do. Jacob watches as the fat man moves to tackle Graham, joined by most of the other men. Jacob backs away, his eyes darting about in fear, though he seems to be the only one doing so. The goat is startled, and bolts, but is stopped from escape by the presence of a fence surrounding the field. "Please, please. Calm down. Why would I do this?" Graham shouts, fighting his way out of the crowd. "Why would anyone?" Patrick shouts, and a number of disjointed voices sound their agreement. Graham sighs, the sound louder and more theatrical than any regular sigh. He moves his hands up and down, trying to signal for quiet, and says, "maybe it's time we all just left." "But what about the cult? Why the fuck would we be invited?!" The fat man says in his rough voice. A number of voices agree, but at the same time a number of people turn and leave the field. "Jacob!" Andrew calls upon seeing him. "Hello." "What is a young lad like yerself doing in a place like this?" "Like everybody else, I received the invitation." Jacob replies cooly as Graham opens his mouth to address the crowd once more. "I think it would be wise for us to leave. There is nothing for us here." At last the fat man with his scraggly black facial hair nods his agreement, and, knocking Graham aside as he does so, leaves the pasture. As do many others, Graham included, until at last only Andrew and Jacob remain. "Yer need a lift home, lad?" "No," Jacob answers, looking at the goat. "Then why aren't yer leaving?" "I just thought the goat may have been something interesting. You know?" "Aye, I understand, lad. But sometimes a goat is just a goat." Jacob sighs and moves to leave. "Wait!" Andrew calls. Jacob stops and turns. "If I told you what was meant to happen tonight, would yer continue the practice?" "Perhaps. It depends on what it is." "I'll show yer." He pulls a knife from the pocket of his hoodie, and Jacob instinctively backs away. "Yer need not be afeard, lad. I'm not going to hurt yer." He turns to the goat. "We are gathered here today," he says, looking at Jacob, "to celebrate the extent of human stupidity. We have given yer a fair example, gathering thirty unwitting men around a single white goat and watching them struggle to piece it all together. A riddle, a prophet, a God, and a devil yer were called before a struggle broke out, and still no one left any the wiser. And so, if Lucifer will take my sacrifice, I give yer this goat in exchange for a continuation of the sampled stupidity." Jacob could not help but laugh as the goat was stabbed six times. "What do yer think, lad? Will yer join me?" "I was looking for an adventure when I joined this cult, and I do believe I have found one. So yes, yes I will join you." "That's good, lad! Now, stab this goat six more times." Jacob, not without his fair share of winces and almost-vomits, complied as best he could, blood splattering messily over his shoes. Andrew then took the knife and stabbed the goat another six times. "This is yer cult now, lad. Welcome." Andrew offered his hand. Jacob smiled, and almost sadistic smile, and shook on it. And, a great many similar meetings passed, afterwards all led by Jacob, and not once did anyone figure out the mystery of who was behind them all.