End of the Cycle
There was a time when I walked the land as a maiden. I would stroll for miles, and the land hummed, and the trees lolled, and the birds sang with me. I felt the warm of the sunlight on my skin, and when I reached the meadow by the river, I recall I used to think there was no-one happier than me in the world.
That lasted forever, until I heard the first howls and yells, and fear grew inside me. But I knew the fear was not mine, but a reflection. The Big Hunt was on, and it was the fear of the Hunted I was feeling.
Oh the terror, the pain and the anger. All my being told me to go and punish the hunters, to protect the preys and do what was fair. But I knew that was not to be, and I should stay in the meadow.
And still I could listen, and the sounds brought me all the tides I needed to know. I wanted to have hope, to hear the prey escape, but at the same time I knew that was not to be.
That should not be.
As night fell the noises, the silent noises only I could perceive were clear. The King had fallen, the sacrifice was made. Blood was spilled on the land, feeding it, making it strong and powerful.
And then he stood before me. Cernunnos and Herne, the Horned One, man and god and husband and lover and father. I felt the fire within him, the source of his power, igniting my own. But still he came and prostrated before me, for I was the Goddess, the Giver of Life.
And I touched his head, caressing the horns, and accepted his sacrifice, hurtful for me as it was, and I relented. We became one, our fires burning together for hours, until they exploded and spilled and I was a maiden no more, and afterwards he lay there, spent, and went to sleep forever.
But I had to leave, search for the perfect spot to lie down and rest, to feel again the pulse of the land, to allow myself to flow and become one with the world.
And thus the cycle started once again, for I would become a mother and my children would spread and populate the lands and the waters and the skies.
Seasons would pass, and in the springtime I would see myself, again a maiden, again walking the land alone, again reaching the river and listening to the sounds of the Hunt, and again receiving the sacrifice of my lover.
I thought that would last forever.
But it didn’t.
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This is my accompanying entry for the Weekly Writing Exercise: July 31–August 6, 2017 at the Writer’s Discussion Group on Google+. I am responsible for creating the prompts for the Exercise, so I don’t take part, but I still like to write a story each week.
This week I just couldn’t find the story in the image… I considered several ideas and ended up with this one.
