written by: Samantha Beardon
It is time. Time for my next transformation. I am prepared, well as much as I can be. I sit in the coolness of the temple my metal casing cooled by the shaded darkness. The creeping insidious flashes of pain in my head are growing stronger. My mind is pierced by a raging heat, I raise my hand to my temple to soothe the pain, but hurriedly lower it, the heat is too much. I realise this is to be ordeal by fire, this was not explained at my briefing from the elders. There is a tremor running through me, and I hear a whistling noise. It's me, I am keening. Fire, my nemesis. I visualise that portion of my third transformation where the heat had cracked my shell and left me with life long pain. I need to run from this place, I will not endure the agony that I suffered.
I need a way of cooling the heat, dousing the flames. I am not ready.
I feel flames licking around my face, hot spirals of magma seeping from my eyes, my skin is melting. I will not be consumed by flames.
I remember the lotus pond in the temple garden. I grab the table in front of me and lever myself to my feet, I cannot stand so I sink to my knees and crawl towards the exit. I reach the pool, gazing at the reflection of my grotesque fiery face in the pond. My decisions now will alter my own future and the balance of power in the universe. Halting this transformation will send me back to being a frail mortal woman who will never again aspire to be a God. I teeter on the brink of the pond, have I the courage?
Then I plunge head first into the pool.
Loves to read History, historical novels, fantasy and some romance.
Paints silk mostly wearable art.
Loves games particularly Scrabble and word games, plays at every opportunity online and at home.
Interested in relationships and what makes people who they are in general.
First novel Converging Lives, first poetry book Caught in Passion.
She showcases poetry and relationship issues on her blog Converging Lives Poetry and Prose.
Runs a Facebook group for poets who want to learn and debate: Rising Moon Poetry.