Rain Dance

luna's on line

Hopeless as it’s beginning to seem without the elder’s lead, the dance continues. Chanting, stamping, every person keeps in time, as strings of shells which dangle from their ankles, rattle to a timeless beat. Owab, carried by the rhythm of the dance, wills himself on, inhaling the powerful scent of the sacred herbs smouldering on the remnants of the fading fire.

They cannot fail. Without the Rain Bull, the land will turn to dust and the group will be driven from the place they call home.

Far into the night
they dance on through scented smoke;
waiting for a sign.

Previous episodes of this little African adventure are here.

Photo credit:Nika ZhorzholianifromPexels

Written in response to two challenges:

–Di ofPensitivity101‘sWednesday’sThree Things ChallengePERSON, DANGLE, HOPELESS
– Denise Farley ofGirlieOnTheEdge‘sSunday’sSix Sentence StoryWord PromptREMNANT

I also set myself…

View original post 35 more words

Categories: Uncategorized

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