A oneshot of a completely alternative ending to the Wicker man. I don't remember much from the remake I watched and used mostly knowledge I researched to make sure the background I added was correct. To anyone who would like to bitch about how Howie would not turn his back on his Christian beliefs, ask yourself, would you consider your own faith when you know you are about to die? Would you think about the validity of the pagan belief if you found yourself in the rather unique situation Howie finds himself in? Would you be delirious enough to pray to another god after considering the previous questions after being subject to both your legs being broken? I know I would, but I try to be honest with myself so whatever.
This came to me as I laid in bed, trying to sleep and avoid reading more stuff off this site (I'm addicted). This alternative ending refused to allow me to get to back to sleep until I wrote it so there, happy now my subconsciousness?
Anyway, enjoy the fruits of my insomnia.
Howie looked over the mass of pagans that had beaten and crippled him, they had broken his legs and painfully dragged him to their giant combustible human shaped pyre, for that was what it was.
The people were celebrating their sacrifice, happy that the world of ignorance they lived in was going to be fixed, by their callous murder of an innocent man. And they were going to get away with it!
As the cage he had been trapped in was slowly lifted to the head of the statue he looked back over the events of his brief visit to the island that was to claim his life, he considered his faith, had it been misplaced. Clearly the god of these heathens was more powerful than his own if this was allowed to happen. That or his god just didn't care about him.
The crucifix he wore around his neck hung loosely, prayer beads on his wrist did nothing to soothe his pain, only cut off a bit more of the circulation to his hand. God was not going to help, would it be wrong to find solace in another god, perhaps a true god? Did the Christian god truly exist? Had he done anything to help those who worshipped him?
The bible talked of punishment after death and the rewards of faith. Faith? Ha! That was no good here and now, it would not save him, it would not warn the mainland of the vicious psychopaths that plagued this island or the sociopathic scientist that had encouraged their beliefs to grow. His blind faith had made him the perfect sacrifice to another god, it was almost funny.
No, there was no solace in God, but perhaps there was in the Pagan gods, the sun god they talked of and the others that existed in their faith, they were fickle and dark at times, but according to the myth and legend they actually took part in the world and impacted upon it, rather than sit in the sky and wait for people to die before deciding whether they had been naughty or nice.
Howie found his faith in God dying there as his body ached and his mind wept. Faith in another replaced it and a desire for vengeance upon those that had wronged him overtook his senses. He wanted these people to pay for what they did to him. He wanted them to suffer many more years of bad harvests and to be trapped on their pathetic little isle, starving slowly. In fact, he wanted all that and more.
He would be sacrificed, yes, of that he had no doubt, but the result would be vastly different. With that final thought if vengeance in his heart, the once avid Christian for the last time in his life, began to pray.
The cage creaked to a halt, causing pain to flow through his broken legs and chaffed wrists. None of that mattered, the pain was forgotten as he continued to chant bastardized versions of the Christian prayers, barely whispering as fire started to lick at the easily burnt wicker man.
The flames rose quickly, rising up to the body of the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Howie's words began to grow more frantic, louder until in his tired and burnt state he was shouting, loud enough for the pagans below to hear his prayers.
"Sun god! These fools would make an unwilling sacrifice in a pathetic attempt to appease you, they wish for the pain you have rightfully caused them to cease, by inflicting their pain upon me!"
As he continued to shout more of the crowd took notice that the voice above them was not screaming in agony, it was not fearful , only anger and rage reached their ears as they listened to his voice.
"I know you hear me Sun god! For I am the willing centre of this offering to you! I know that I am to be sacrificed, and I accept it, but I only ask that you do not use your power to show mercy on these miserable wretches. Instead punish them further! Cast storms and giant waves at their shores, flood their crops with salt, trap them on this here island forever! Make them suffer as they would have happily made me!"
The crowd had stopped their celebrations now as they all gazed at the head of the wicker man where undoubtedly the vengeful voice had been coming from. A small girl grabbed the hand of her mother. Rowan Morrison was scared, this wasn't right, this was not how it was supposed to go.
"I was tricked into coming here Sun god! I was by far unwilling as you can see, they went as far as to cripple me in order to trap me here. I would be an unwilling sacrifice towards their goal. But I am most definitely willing to die if it makes them suffer more. These wretches do not deserve to live happily ever after sun god! I offer myself willingly as a sacrifice to further their despair!"
The scorching fire had reached the head of the wicker man and started to lap at the skin of the now willing sacrifice. Howie looked on, not caring at the intense pain he was subject to. He did not notice in his delirious state that the fire was changing colour. First yellow, then a deep blood red, then an intense white. The colours shifted as the sacrifice was slowly burnt alive.
Lord Summerisle didn't care for the religion he had recreated in his island he put up with it as it allowed his a fair bit of control of the inhabitants, but what he was seeing scared him. He did not want to believe his eyes as the flames changed again. There were no metal compounds present in sufficient quantity to cause such changes in colour, no science could not explain this phenomenon. No, clearly he had unwittingly awakened a beast that should have been left to slumber many years ago. Despite his rational mind's arguments, logic gave way to fear for the scientist as the flames continued to change hues.
The flame froze suddenly. It did not move at all, a single wisp of bright flame was separate from the wicker man and hung in the air, defying the laws of science that would have removed it seconds earlier. Then the fire turned black as night, radiating contempt and anger towards the onlookers, they knew it was aimed at them, they knew they had made a mistake in what they had done.
And now they were to be punished.
The now, pitch black fire started to flick and crackle as before. For three more minutes it burned absorbing the surrounding light. In the eerie light one final unnatural scream could be heard and then the Wicker man, exploded. Starting with the head and working down, the black fire erupted outwards from the confines of the wicker shell, until eventually nothing was left but a small pile of ash where the feet of the statue once stood.
A god had answered the call of a new believer, his prayers would be answered.
Two weeks later a police officer looked over the churning sea. His face was set in resignation. It had been too long since the other man, Howie his name was, had disappeared on the island, just offshore. He had found a similar problem the now missing officer had had when trying to reach the island.
The local fishermen had seen nothing quite like the storm that had hit so recently. It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and did not look like it would end anytime soon.
There was nothing anyone could do in this weather, it was like God was playing some sick practical joke, trapping a devout believer on the island and from the outside world. Hopefully he would be alright for now, he decided he would come back in a few days and see if things looked like clearing up.
It didn't look like the storm would end anytime soon. Shaking his head in defeat, the man turned round, walking back to his car.
Edited slightly on 06/04/12 The same day as published (because I am anal about that stuff)
As always, trolls will be attacked by two first year students. Flames will be reduced to nothing by a Rain dance attack, and nonsense will be met with a Wabbajack!