Rain hammered down on the already soaked muddy fields in the outskirts of Caleah. Hundreds had turned out for the annual spring festival, despite the appalling weather they had been graced with. Sara waited in the queue for her turn in the growth ceremony, a contest to see the powers manifesting in the local children. Each of them was to attempt the early blooming of a Red-Drop Lily, their shoots ripe from the few weeks of spring sun.
The child ahead took his place in front of his plot. Kneeling down, he cupped the beginnings of the lily’s bud and poured magical energy into it using the incantation they’d been taught in school. Not all children were capable of this feat, and its manifestation, although occurring on average at the age of eight, varied from child-to-child. Blue and green wisps of energy danced around his hands, tickling the plant gently until the namesake red flower burst from its midst.
The crowds erupted into cheers and applause. He was the first of the day to show signs of magic. He plucked the lily, as was his right, and with a great smile on his face, despite the continuing downpour, he made his way to his mother – her arms stretched wide.
Sara felt her heart race in her chest. She looked to her right. Other children who had already tried and failed at the ceremony were playing on the wooden climbing frames, one crawling up a rope net like some kind of spider man. She wished she would be able to go there and play without a care if she failed. When she failed. She’d been practicing for months, but with no success. Her mother was the youngest in her village to perform the ceremony, so skilled with magic she eventually took her place as the Arch-druid of Caleah.
Her hands shook, her arms and neck tensed so tight she felt like she was going to black out. The teacher ushered her forwards to her plot. Each step was an eternity, the mud congealing around her boots making the next harder than the last. She knelt at her shoot. It looked up at her like a lost puppy, her eyes already welling up, ready to burst at the first sign of failure. She cupped the bud and recited the incantation. No swirling magic appeared. No gentle tickling of the bud. Within the first three words her tears had already broken through the dam. The rain hid them as they streaked down her face, but it didn’t hide her sobs as she struggled through the last of the spell.
Her teacher knelt down beside her.
“It’s OK Sara. You can try next year. I’m sure your mother is very proud of you.” She pulled Sara into her arms, holding her closely. Looking through the crowds of indifferent faces, the teacher held on to the small grain of hope that Sara’s mother would show up.
As her teacher escorted Sara away from the ceremony, Sara knew that she wouldn’t.
Today's prompt: spider man
This week's worldbuilding prompt: spring
If you'd like to participate too, the contest/prompts can be found here:
@mariannewest/day-1601-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-spider-man
