The fire paints the night black. In the village there were stars in the sky, a faint blush of dawn on the horizon. Here, in the forest, the bright light drowns the subtleties around us. We are alone in the shadows, each linked by our breath and the sounds we make, shapes in the inky pitch. A drum begins to pound. Another. We hit the stretched leather skin with the palms of our hands, swift, sure. Build the beat until we feel it in our bones, until it is a part of us and draws us together. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. A narrow shriek pierces the rhythm, winds through it. We bring her forward, push her roughly to the ground. The fire is a ring around us, protector and destroyer. The bowl is passed. We each touch the acrid berries to our lips, careful not to use too much, tying a knot in yet another string. Ba-bum. Ba-dum. The drums move through us, lend a primal resonance to the ceremony. She wails against, twists and pulls. The demon is strong in her. The bowl reaches the end, leaves the beginning. The mashed berries are smeared across her eyes, blinding the demon. “Hrmmm. Hrmmm. Hrmmm,” we chant, timing the wordless vocalisation to the gaps between the drumbeats. The demon stirs in her, and her body writhes. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. The drums grow louder, they are everything now, and the night is a painted landscape, two dimensional; the sound completes it. We can feel it on our skin, we breathe it in and out. The berries swim on our lips, tingle and burn, and the demon begs for mercy. We carve the sigils in her skin, barrier and defender, sword and shield to her. She screams, falls to her knees, and we release her as she screams the demon into the sky, rips her hair out at its roots and howls the demon into the dark. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-
The silence seems complete. No one moves. No one breathes.
A cricket chirps. She whimpers. Falls. The night slips quietly back into place. We breathe, shuffle. Someone coughs. Someone laughs. Strong arms lift her up, soothing cloth against the torn skin of her forehead. She’s carried away, and we follow, simple men and women returning to the world.
Today’s image comes to you courtesy of Rene Blais. Check out his work on His Facebook Page, and see more about him on Lucid Dreaming’s Contributors Page. Model: Missy Anne. Makeup: Scott Hurr