THE BARGAIN MADE IN OMMORION
NOTE: This story is unashamedly based on Ursula K. LeGuin's story "The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas," which I strongly recommend you read if you haven't already. Ms LeGuin's story is absolutely brilliant and makes a profoundly important point – or perhaps I should say it raises an important question. But with all due respect to a truly great writer, I do not think she went far enough in illustrating her point. So you could say that this story is a more extreme version of her story – a version with added (Lovecraftian) horror.
Far up on the north coast, away from most of the other settlements of humankind, is a beautiful city called Ommorion. The streets are always clean; the stores are always full of wares; the fish in the harbour are always plentiful; the crops grown outside the walls of the city never fail. The people walk contentedly through the streets in their fine clothes, and are never happier that on the day of the annual festival, when they celebrate with horse races and other activities in the water meadow outside the city gates, and the children have races and take part in other sports. Nobody visiting the city could fail to be impressed by its beauty or by the happiness of its inhabitants.
But not everyone in the city is happy. One person is not. Let me explain.
In the central square of the city stands the temple of Halgamoth, the city's god. He is no myth – in fact he is very real. He lives in a chamber behind the High Altar, and is seldom seen by humanity. He is one of the Great Old Ones who came down from the stars countless ages ago, and whose names are recorded in the "Necronomicon"; in fact, he is believed to be related to Great Cthulhu, who lies, dead but dreaming, in his sunken city of R'lyeh.
It is Halgamoth who brings the city its good fortune, who brings the fish into the harbour and ensures the crops are always plentiful, and who protects the city from all harm. But he does so at a price.
For in another chamber, underneath the High Altar, lives Halgamoth's chosen victim. The victim is always brought to the temple as a child – male or female, Halgamoth does not seem to care. The child is locked into the secret chamber and simply left there, being given food through a panel in the door once a day. The child is left to fend for itself in the confined space and usually ends up living in its own excrement.
And, every so often, Halgamoth comes to feed. Sometimes he will go for a month without feeding; at other times, he will feed several times a day. But the point is he likes human blood. So he will go to the victim's chamber and feed upon the child, drawing blood from its neck, its belly, and other parts of its body. When he has had sufficient, he slithers back to his own chamber.
Occasionally, it seems that he likes to play with the chosen victim. He goes to the child and picks it up, caressing it with his tentacles and licking it with his enormous tongue, making a cooing noise. Once or twice he has become violent and torn the victim apart, but this is most unusual.
Most victims only last three or four years. They die from lack of blood or from disease. And many of them have gone completely mad before they died.
When the victim dies, a new one is chosen by lot from the city's children. All children under the age of twelve must have their names submitted; the laws of Ommorion are very strict on this point.
So this is the bargain that was made by the city of Ommorion: happiness and prosperity under Halgamoth's protection, but always at the price of one child's agony and eventual death.
The people of the city have been true to the bargain, and so has Halgamoth. The city is famed for its prosperity and the beauty of its buildings, and the happiness of its inhabitants. The people of the city are comfortable with the deal that they have made.
Well, not all of them. Every now and then a person will decide that he or she can no longer tolerate the bargain (particularly if they have heard the victim screaming at night) and will simply leave the city.
Such people are derided by the other inhabitants as "bleeding hearts," and are seldom spoken of after they leave.
But, once they have made up their minds to leave, nothing can make them stay.
It is said that they always seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Ommorion.