Shaman's way, part 1 of one, complete
Sep. 30th, 2019 10:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
worldofwordsShaman's way
Part 1 of 1
Word count (story only) 400 words
This story came out of the September Crowdfunding Creative Jam from prompts byalexseanchai and ysabetwordsmith and is sponsored by the magnificent book_worm5 with my sincerest thanks!
::Note: this story does not belong to any universe yet, so stands alone::
The drum beat, the rattle shook in time on the 1 and the 3rd. Clarien knew that it was a nontraditional thing, the offbeats, but his family had always been the nontraditional sort anyway. Not embracing that would be like going against the very wind itself; possible, but much more effort than was necessary.
His Mother, the Earth seemed to sing beneath him as he danced a circle, the drum behind him played by Rowan the wolf-girl, the rattle in his own hand. She touched him, soothing his soul, rejuvenating his spirit, focusing his mind on the task that lay ahead of him. Lycans were not widely accepted among his tribe, but he had managed to rise to rank of Shaman. So young, so skilled, yet so outcast.
At least Mother Earth approved. Evidently, so did Father sun, for He shone down with a clear beam, making the silver bands at the ends of his two waist length braids wink with an almost etherial glow, and the beadwork on his bukskins dance with light as he moved through his Spirit dance. He would Vision quest soon, and he must prepare to meet the natural order of things with his whole being. His mind, his body, his spirit, his soul. He may only be half a First Nation man, but he was one nonetheless, and this way was just as important to him as the White man’s ways he had gotten from his mother, if not more so in some ways. If not more so in too many ways. This world was falling apart, and he, he among many others, must figure a way to stop it. To stop it before it was too late. Too late for him, and everybeing else who lived within and upon it.
His voice rose, just as the sun did, ringing out loud and clear against the coming dawn, bouncing off the trees and the mountains in the distance at once, coming back to him full of power and authority; commanding, demanding to he heard, no longer silenced by fear and indecision, Clarien stepped into his calling, proud, tall and unafraid: he knew his purpose now.
Being a shaman, to him, would soon be as natural as breathing, and as sure and true as the Mother whose breast he now lightly danced upon. As before, going against this now, would be like going against the wind itself …
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Part 1 of 1
Word count (story only) 400 words
This story came out of the September Crowdfunding Creative Jam from prompts by
alexseanchai and ysabetwordsmith and is sponsored by the magnificent book_worm5 with my sincerest thanks!::Note: this story does not belong to any universe yet, so stands alone::
The drum beat, the rattle shook in time on the 1 and the 3rd. Clarien knew that it was a nontraditional thing, the offbeats, but his family had always been the nontraditional sort anyway. Not embracing that would be like going against the very wind itself; possible, but much more effort than was necessary.
His Mother, the Earth seemed to sing beneath him as he danced a circle, the drum behind him played by Rowan the wolf-girl, the rattle in his own hand. She touched him, soothing his soul, rejuvenating his spirit, focusing his mind on the task that lay ahead of him. Lycans were not widely accepted among his tribe, but he had managed to rise to rank of Shaman. So young, so skilled, yet so outcast.
At least Mother Earth approved. Evidently, so did Father sun, for He shone down with a clear beam, making the silver bands at the ends of his two waist length braids wink with an almost etherial glow, and the beadwork on his bukskins dance with light as he moved through his Spirit dance. He would Vision quest soon, and he must prepare to meet the natural order of things with his whole being. His mind, his body, his spirit, his soul. He may only be half a First Nation man, but he was one nonetheless, and this way was just as important to him as the White man’s ways he had gotten from his mother, if not more so in some ways. If not more so in too many ways. This world was falling apart, and he, he among many others, must figure a way to stop it. To stop it before it was too late. Too late for him, and everybeing else who lived within and upon it.
His voice rose, just as the sun did, ringing out loud and clear against the coming dawn, bouncing off the trees and the mountains in the distance at once, coming back to him full of power and authority; commanding, demanding to he heard, no longer silenced by fear and indecision, Clarien stepped into his calling, proud, tall and unafraid: he knew his purpose now.
Being a shaman, to him, would soon be as natural as breathing, and as sure and true as the Mother whose breast he now lightly danced upon. As before, going against this now, would be like going against the wind itself …
PayPpal, the faster, easier way to pay online!
Nice!
Date: 2019-09-30 05:08 pm (UTC)Re: Nice!
Date: 2019-09-30 05:19 pm (UTC)