I’ve always wanted to go to a Hockey game and when I moved to Canada it seemed like the perfect time. I didn’t and still don’t know much about Hockey; I did some basic research to make sure I knew the basics but further than that - I had no clue.
The first game I went too was with friends and it was nothing like I was expecting; in fact I questioned many things I had read.
Now, even though I didn’t know much I did know some team names, however that didn’t help me. The game was between Stick Magnets and the Penalty Box Brawlers. I joked they sounded punny but my friends didn’t laugh.
The rink we entered was dark with barely any lighting anywhere; there were lights on the ice but even they were an odd colour that reminded me of old school sepia photos with a more red hue. I followed my group of friends to our seats and noticed the plastic wrapping on nearly everything. I questioned it but got told I wouldn’t know because I’d never been to a game before. Looking around I saw people near the front taking out single use raincoats and pulling them on before getting themselves seated.
I took more notice of the ice and frowned at the thick slab in the middle of the ice. As I continued to look at it I could see a seam around the top edge leading me to wonder if this was a box of some sort.
As the seats filled to capacity the referee made his way onto the ice followed by the two teams. I was immediately struck by the appearance of both teams; I imagined they’d be hulking men with muscles hidden under their jerseys and armour. These players all looked grey and… weedy. They looked sick.
The referee motioned to someone off to the side and the slab did in fact turn out to be a box and as it opened both teams lurched forward to view its contents. The referee stayed back for a moment, seemingly steeling himself to get closer before gliding over and taking out a large dagger.
“It’s ceremonial!” One of my friends called into my ear over the roaring crowd.
“What is?” I tilted my head to him but couldn’t take my eyes off the ice and then the large screen caught my attention; it showed the inside of the box. A man, no older than myself and my friends, was laying naked and shivering in the box.
“The dagger for the sacrifice.”
“Oh… wait what?!” No sooner had I asked this question of clarification and the referee had brought down the dagger into the abdomen of the still living man. He screamed and as the knife was dragged up in a straight line to open his skin he coughed up blood. The referee used the hilt of the dagger to smash open the rib cage and pull out various organs.
Onto the ice came two assistants who moved the box off the ice to the area directly in front of us. The lighting may have been terrible but I could tell the corpse was smiling.
“Oh here it comes!!” Called another friend.
I looked back to the ice just in time to see a kidney being plopped onto the ice and two players facing up to each other for control. Were they using a kidney as a puck?
It was at this point I took notice of the hockey sticks; usually wooden from what my research told me but these looked scarily like bones. Leg bones, to be specific. Entire leg bones fixed into place with sinew to keep their length. The femoral head was the part being used to hit the “puck” around the rink.
I was in so much shock that I had completely missed the start of the game and had to refocus my eyes to keep track of what was happening. What was going on?!
I stared with my mouth agape as blood continued to smear and freeze onto the ice only looking up to my right as my friend jostled me happily and cheered.
I wanted to leave; I wanted to stand up and make my way out of that place and never look back but as I started looking for an escape I noticed all the entrance and exit doors were shut and had large security in front of them. I was just wondering what the worst could be if I tried to leave, what would they do to me? Someone had the same thought as me and tried to do just that, only to find themselves thrown on the ice into the middle of a blood frenzied game.
The crowd roared with excitement as the would-be escapee was set upon by the goalkeeper who wasted no time in cutting open his throat and watching him bleed out onto the ice. The body was left where it fell and the game continued.
The kidney became too hardened to be used properly, losing all colour and consistency as it slid around the ice and into goal nets but the halftime buzzer broke me of my next thought; wondering what they would use next.
The teams cleared from the ice and a clown skated on; his appearance was that of a love child between Pennywise and Twisty on crack. He motioned for something from the assistants and was thrown two freshly removed eyeballs from the earlier “sacrifice”. He played juggling with the two but made sad faces when he couldn’t do his tricks, next he made a motion of remembering something and skated to the dead body of the guy who tried to escape. The clown pulled out with his gloved hand an eyeball; the crowd cheered louder and whistled as he began his routine in earnest. After the eyeball juggling came skipping tricks with an intestine and finally a puppet show with the head and spinal cord of the sacrifice.
I was just about to bring up my earlier food when body parts began getting thrown into the crowd from one of those T-shirt launchers. I was stunned into silence and compliance.
The second half of the game was much the same as the first but instead they used a liver as the puck; more people tried to escape and soon the ice was red with frozen blood from the dead bodies. When they got in the way a player would rip off a limb from a body and throw it into the crowd; piece by piece until it was all gone. A man behind me caught a head and acted like he’s caught a stray baseball. Apparently getting the head is good luck.
The game came to a close and I have no idea of the score; it seemed a team got extra points for killing someone on the ice and depending on if they were male or female depended on the amount of points. Also if one team killed someone who was on the opposition’s side that gave extra points.
I know the Stick Magnets won and they were extremely happy at this. I found out why a few moments later when the losing team were led onto the ice in nothing but their underwear and socks. They were gaunt and gangly; I could count every single rib on each player. Hip bones jutted out at odd angles and shoulder blades looked sharp enough to cut meat.
The winning team talked amongst themselves as they seemed to look over the losers and then one by one they went up to a losing team member and removed a leg from their chosen person. The men screamed and writhed in agony but didn’t make any moves to get away.
Next the winners bend forward and continue to rip into the bodies with their hands and teeth. It takes an age but each of the winners eats one of the opponents until there’s nothing but bones left. These are quickly tidied off the ice and taken out through a door.
Once each of the winners had a leg each they skated off the ice to the sounds of cheering from adoring fans. The men raised their chosen legs in the air in victory.
Next two men wearing a jersey from each team walked onto the ice.
“That’s the managers of the teams.” I was told to my left.
“Ah…”
“The manager from the losing team becomes the next sacrifice!” To my right.
I nod numbly and watch as the losing manager takes off his jersey and hands it to the winning manager,
“If they refuse then a member of the team from the benches is chosen.” To my left.
The man bowed his head solemnly before nodding and being injected with something.
“The sacrifice must be willing.” My left again.
He was placed on a stretcher and carried off ice by the assistants.
“He’ll be kept alive and on ice. Sacrifices must be alive.” From my right.
“I see..” I nod and try to feign interest.
A few moments later and the doors were opened; I tried to shuffle slowly to our exit and not make it obvious I wanted to run away from this place at full speed.
On the way to the parking lot we pass by the merchandise stand where I see the bones from the losing team up for sale alongside shorts, caps and pin badges.
“Want anything?” I’m asking by one of my friends.
“Oh uuh no, thank you.” I smile as best I could.
“Holding out for a better team? Smart move!”
I say goodbye to my friends as we split up and head to our respective cars in the lot.
I sit in my car gripping the steering wheel and keeping my eyes on the road ahead, waiting for my turn to leave as the busy car park empties slowly; I wave to friends as they pass me by and put on a happy smile when I actually want to throw up.
While waiting in the queue for the exit a message pops up on my phone and my reader quotes it back to me with a happy tone I could never copy.
“There’s another game next weekend. We’ve got your ticket already! You’re gonna fit right in!”