2 December 2012
#firstwrite Behold, a piece by 10 year old me that I found at the bottom of a box while I was cleaning out the porch. Thought I might share it here on Opuss, because, well, why not? Haha. Don't judge me.
It was several hundred years ago, now. One minute after midnight, October 31st, 1577, to be exact. The whole village had gathered around a vast pile of logs, twigs and leaves. Over it, rusted from years of age, was a wide, seemingly bottomless cauldron that sat there, just sat there. After a while, three pale women stepped forward, long cloaks flowing about them like water- black water. Cupped hands in front of them, the three figures made their way to the cauldron. Each, in turn, poured a spice or herb out of their hands into it, uttered the Witch's Creed, made the sign of the Pentagram and walked away. Then, without a word, as if the air instructed them to do so, all the villagers joined hands and the seance began.
The words whispered by the villagers wove their way into one another and formed a dazzling web of sound. Suddenly, out of the shadows, a tall, aged man with a luscious, white beard stepped forward. He held a long, cherry bark staff and had a wizened owl sitting on his shoulder. Looking directly in front of him, he banged his staff on the ground three times and all the words of the seance became visible, wispy spirits that sewed through the air. They produced a soft light that illuminated the arrival's face, Merlin.
The words of the seance gathered around Merlin's staff, intertwining through the cracks in the wood. He banged the staff again and the whole earth shook, a wave of shimmering but handy flew towards the pile of logs and a crackling inferno roared up, making the cauldron begin to bubble and froth. Merlin stepped forward, black smoke billowing around him and smells from the large pot began to weave into the air around him. Smoked peppers, roasted fish, melted blocks of fine, white cheese and tangy, yellow lemons, all joined together. The fire was many un-named colours and the villagers fused them together to create new colours just by looking at them. Merlin moved towards the flame- now, pure Belgian chocolate and thick, Persian creams were soaking into lush, newly picked strawberries- the aromas were tempting. Suddenly, Merlin stepped up the fire base, not un-lodging a single twig. Then, without a word, he stepped into the blazing fire and came out the other side, completely unscathed. The only difference was what used to be his owl, now a fine, majestic Phoenix, wings the colour of the flame, dark navy blue and light moss green....
Merlin Walks The Flame • Opuss № I