Another journal

Written during my month of writing.  You can find all the sections here.

There were less people this time than at the first ceremony, for which Emily was grateful. She felt intensely stupid in hiking boots and clothes too warm for the summer night, carrying a heavy pack and wearing a flowered circlet on her head. She stood awkwardly before the arbor her aunt and others had made earlier that day.

Mrs. Hill was saying something, her figure shining clear in the moonlit suburban dark as she moved her flowered twig like a conductor’s baton. Emily tried to pay attention. “—And so we wish her victory, as our agent, and safety as our child.” Mrs. Hill stepped to the arbor and moved the twig at it while Emily, on the other side, tried to stand very still. With a rush of air, the arbor burst aflame.

She took a deep breath. Fire and water, midsummer magic, nothing to feel dumb about. Turning to her aunt, they hugged, arms thrown off balance by the backpack. Becky stepped forward and held out her hand. Emily shook it, looked from her aunt on one side to the flaming arch on the other, then back to Becky, lit harshly by the firelight. With sudden temerity she pulled the woman into an embrace. Self-consciously, she broke quickly and stepped back.

Feeling briefly badass, Emily stepped boldly to the arbor, pausing for a moment as the heat of the flames flushed across her skin. Screwing up her face in determination, she stepped through the arch of fire as Mrs. Hill on the other side heaved a bucket of water at Emily’s face.

Closing her eyes reflexively against the wet, Emily finished her step before swiping the liquid away. She could feel the flowers drooping damply against her forehead. Blinking droplets she looked around. The moonlight lit the grass, throwing a dream-sharp edge on everything. She stood in the middle of a forest clearing, silent except for the faintest rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Emily dragged the soggy wreath from her head and held it awkwardly, not knowing what to do with it. She swallowed. “Mother fuck.”

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.