This Sunday afternoon's post is the final sneak peak at my short story, "To Everything Its Season." I hope you've enjoyed this preview. Next week, we'll start a new preview especially chosen for the gift giving season.
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At midnight, I made my way to the wooded oak grove on the property where we held our ceremonies. The woods are on the west side of our land where a large flat granite boulder forms a natural altar. The sounds of the animals and the hoot of an owl filled the night with song as I approached. Under a dark, ebony sky, silver-shot with stars and the glow of the waxing moon, I called first upon the guardian spirits, the Grigori, and cast my protective circle. These watchers would guard the circle and witness my ceremony. On the stone altar, I placed a large seashell filled with a special liquid. I set two candles to the front of the shell one on each side forming a triangle. I raised my hand and made a flame, the first skill learned and the last one lost, with which I lighted the candles. I picked up my Spirit Knife and passed it over the liquid in the shell, setting it alight as I invoked the Goddess. “In Your name, beloved Goddess, and by whatever name You wish, I call upon You in this sacred place that with this flame, I might become one with Your Spirit.” I repeated the prayer three times. A blue flame flared high over the bowl with each repetition, indicating Her presence. The fire danced on the surface of the liquid, but no voice whispered in the midnight stillness. Finally, the flame flickered once and died, leaving me alone in the night. She had blessed me with Her presence. That was something, but absolution still eluded me. If there was a bright spot, it was that She had not forsaken me. I gathered the candles and the seashell together, and returned to the house to spend another night filled with nightmares with their visions of death and destruction. (For the conclusion of Diane's story, I hope you will go to Amazon and download the rest of the story on your E-readers.)