by Professor Q
A flash fiction entry into the Writer's Cramp for 11/1-11/2
|It is a secret not oft told that winter is the beginning. The darkness comes before the dawn, not after, and so the dark half of the year is its genesis, not its waning gasps. Beltane is the height of the year, but Samhain is its nascence. A promise made before the Samhain flame is doubly sacred for it is one made when the world is new. Woe be upon one whose oath is broken if it is made upon Samhain.
Stare deep into the fire, mortal. Feel it bind you to the earth and sky and all that is beyond; feel it renew you, burn away the past and scour clean your soul. Think not of lying, for you are laid bare. Think not of hiding, for the flame is everywhere and in every time. Think only of that which you would make in this moment of births and let the flame carve it into the firmament of truth.
Of what do you think? Perhaps a wish to build; to use the power of the new year to bring your own creation into the world? Or a wish to change; to birth a new self in this new time? Of what do you dream? Think not that this is an oath to make in jest like those of lesser beginnings; remember that you bind yourself to the gods and the heart of all existence. Choose wisely, mortal, for you may be unmade if you unmake your vow.
It is the beginning of the dark times, the dark half; it is the beginning of the new year. Make your oaths, Mortals, and celebrate the rebirth of time itself.