Chronarchy (chronarchy) wrote,

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An initiation.

The hand on my shoulder squeezed tight. A light but firm push indicated the direction I should move.

I resisted the urge to turn my head, to see the source of the hand. I stepped forward, not with conviction, but at least without hesitation. There are some things that you cannot fight, and there are things that you should not fight. This was something I should not fight.

I stood alone now, in the center of a circle. Around me were shapes, indistinct and uncertain, hidden from my full vision. I was not concentrating on peripheries. I was consumed by the center. The hand on my shoulder made no move.

Words were spoken. What they said, I cannot repeat. What they meant, I cannot describe. Both words and meanings are bound by the oath I took when I said, "I accept."

There was something frightening about the way those words passed my lips; they were spoken with assurance, and with a finality I had not been convinced of moments ago. Those two words re-defined who I was, and made me who I am. I was shocked to find that I did not hesitate a moment when the statements were made.

On nights like this, I remember.
Tags: rituals, writings

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