The Feast Of Secrets

20251210

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 2” event.

Gods are like squirrels - they don’t hibernate all the way through their “off season”. So it was a good idea to have at least one festival for them where they could sleepily fill their belly with belief before slumbering again.
And if there’s one thing the harvest goddess loved more than feasting and merriment, it was delicious juicy gossip.
She stirred, yawning and stretching her twenty limbs, the moment her ceremonial tablecloth was removed from storage. Ahh. That time already? Yes, now she was awake she could sense the thoughts of her which were being held all across the village.
In each home people were busy preparing a dish to lay upon her altar. The food itself was of no interest to her, and would be shared by everyone once she’d drunk of the confessions.
That was the magic of the tablecloth; it revealed each family’s secrets. To her, and only to her. The mortals would eat and drink and make merry, and all the while they would wonder what she had gleaned about them - and those seated around them.
Scrumptious.
Sometimes the secret was reluctant. Sometimes it was relieved, forceful even, grateful to have an outlet and insistent to be witnessed. Some were boring, some shocking.
Well, liable to shock someone who’d seen rather less of human nature than she had.
Remarkable how such a simple ritual, something she’d originally dreamed up to relieve the insipidness of winter, produced so much belief. Humans were adamant that knowing their secrets gave her great power. And she certainly wasn’t going to dissuade them of this. But…
Honestly, most of these secrets wouldn’t actually be considered interesting by the others. Oh, a few might result in social isolation for certain people, at least for a while. Until everyone got over it. A handful of marriages would dissolve. There might even be some children disowned.
So there was power in that sense. A dull, entirely mortal kind of power which was of little interest to her.
Far more important was the connection worshippers manifested to her because she’d glimpsed their secrets. Fervent, passionate belief which sometimes eclipsed what she received at the harvest festival.
And the stories. Humans were such fascinating creatures. And what they wished to keep secret could be just as interesting as the secrets themselves.
Incense was being lit. The tablecloth was laid with reverence upon her altar. Soon the temple bell would ring and every family would march, offering in hand, to share in the feast.
She lifted her head and breathed deep, savouring the swirls of guilt and anxiety and embarrassment brewing in various houses. Oh, this was going to be a delicious feast indeed.

Prompt was “Every household must contribute one dish to the Midwinter Feast. The dish reveals your secret.”