Darkness descends as the screeching wind whips through my hair. The feeling of dread is like a monster in my belly. I sense rather than see the figure form before me and I resist the urge to step back. This is my calling. I know the clouds will weep and the thunder will roar but it is time. I hold the jar towards the figure and my skin prickles as wispy arms take my offering. It inhales my essence. I am accepted. I am undone. I am now married. The wind dies, clouds perish, and the thunder is never born.
Image by © Can Stock Photo / ziggy777