For Azazel — Friday Fiction 4

As far as goats go, I am a pretty lucky one. You may think that all goats are lucky and that may seem to be the case, but let me tell you that is absolutely not the case.

It all started last week when I was taken from my grazing area along with another goat. I’m not sure if we’re cousins or brothers but we do look a lot alike — or so I have been told.

We were both led up to a high cliff, where I thought we were going to get some fresh air. Well, more fresh than down below. Certainly more fresh than the pen where I graze during the day.

There was a huge crowd of people to see us go up there, and for the life of me I could not figure it out. Very strangely, the other goat got a red string tied around him. I figured it was for decoration but soon that goat went over the side of the cliff and I quickly realized that it must have meant something else.

I on the other hand got something tied to me, and the people that had led me up the height set me free and said amongst themselves that I was “for Azazel” — but I have no idea who that might be.


Author’s note — I hope to write more for this story but for now I must end it as I am getting ready for Yom Kippur, the day of atonement — this story is somewhat based on that!


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