Into the Flames

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

An art therapist journey's to find the Goddess Brigid.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The steady drumbeat reverberated through the air. The sound steady, never increasing in tempo but increasing in volume the closer I got to the cave and oh the colours here. I'd found myself deep in the Irish countryside, somewhere in the north, possibly even the south I'd been tossed around and stepped through many times and realms to find myself here. Emeralds grasses giving way to cold greys of the limestone cave that I was heading to.

Boom. Boom. BOOM.

The drumbeat was getting louder, echoing through my head, circling upwards to the overcast skies and filling the air with silver music. My heartbeat changed to match the drum, single beats now and each one thudding hard against my chest turning my thoughts into a blood red. My footsteps, too, slowed to match the beat. I was getting closer to her.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

 

Inside the cave the beat went on, urning the darkness into shades of cerulean, cobolt, deepest sapphire all swirling out of tempo, doing their own dance. And here as I stepped closer the cool blues shimmered into warmer tones violets and purples now and twirling faster as the drums got slower. Surely it would soon drive me to madness if I wasn't already there.

Garnet now the air was and getting hotter. So much hotter. The sweat was dripping off me. Malton pearlescent beads rolling down my face, down my arms, soaking my clothes. Darker now the reds, shot through with oranges and blazes of white. I couldn't be much further.

And then I saw her. Standing before the granite slab of her alter. Her hair was the flames that were now filling the cave, her cloak of moss flung carelessly across her shoulders and her eyes the obsidian shade oft the abyss staring straight through me.

"I cannot. I cannot come any closer," my clothes were smouldering and burning off in her heat. I'd failed her. I'd come this far and I'd failed her.

"It is required of you," her voice was the crackle of fire and yet at the same time higher and sweeter than any choir.

I had to press on. Closer I came towards her. My clothes turned to ashes, clouding my sight with smoke. Only the carnelian of her hair guided me onwards. My skin now was melting, rolling down in gloopy rivers that evaporated before they hit the ground. Only a little closer to go.

I held my hands to her and she reached for me. The Goddess Brigid. The Goddess of fire, of beauty and the arts and of all the burning passions within me. Her hands were blessedly cool against the bones of my hands as she pulled me beneath her cloak of moss and into the river folds of her dress.

Oblivion followed, but before it took me I finally understood.


Submitted: January 05, 2021

© Copyright 2021 MaskOfPersona. All rights reserved.

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