Introduction

I look out of my window to see the full moon shining brightly in the night sky. Framed by glittering stars. It’s glow calling out to me like a siren calling out to men at sea. The Goddesses handing out their blessings and benevolence to those who head their calling. My pulse begins to quicken for each second that I look upon the brightness of the moon colliding with the darkness of the world. The darkness of my world. Of my mind.

I open up the window and the wind rushes in to grace me with its presence. Blowing strands of long, blonde hair over my shoulders. I can feel the presence of the Goddesses with me. Trying to bestow upon me their blessing as they would the others. The wind dances across what was once smooth, pale skin. Now ragged from pent up violence towards myself. I cannot accept their blessing.

The Goddesses weep in sorrow as I reject them once again. Tears falling from the sky and landing on our beloved grounds. Blessing our land and our home in hope that maybe they can at least offer their love. But this I also cannot accept. I am a burden to the world. To my family. I should not exist.

I hear music in the distance. Ringing out from the woods that surround our home. The beat of the drums is rhythmic and the beating of my heart responds. I can hear the laughs and the chants of the sisterhood as they reach into the other realms of existence. Gathering the essence of the spirits they have called and performing what is probably some beautiful spell work.

In my mind I can picture them all dancing around the roaring fire. Their movements frantic and chaotic. The way their breasts swing and their hair flies as they leap into the air and spin across the dirt. The tears of the Goddesses cascading down their barren flesh. Making their skin glow even more so in the light of the fire before them. Their hands roaming the bodies of their partners as they offer themselves completely to the Goddesses. The heat of the fire and the burning of their desires building as bodies fall into place. Moving together as their flesh becomes one and their mouths share a tongue.

That is probably the only thing that I do not miss about the practice. Laying out barren your flesh for all to see. How could I enjoy doing such a thing when the body that I have feels so foreign? So alien to me that I cannot accept that it is mine. I hide it away behind baggy clothes and tightly wound bandages. My breath faltering from the constant pressure on my chest. My ribs screaming in pain as they press inwards. Not allowed to move as I let out another breath.

Of course this only makes life harder for me. Looking into the mirror to see the person I should be. The person I want to be. The person that my mother would never allow to come into this world. To become a man would just be unacceptable. Why would I want to become someone whose has little place in our society? I can kiss goodbye to a good job. I can say goodbye to being a part of the practice. There is power for men. They are good for procreation and to care for the family. Women get the jobs. Women hold the power.

I get into my small twin bed as these thoughts take over my mind. A heavy cloud of depression beginning to settle over me. Wrapping around my mind like a boa constructor wraps around its prey. Squeezing the life out of its victim. I try to comfort myself as I pull my sky blue blanket around me. Shielding me from the crisp, cold breeze that still comes in through my window. My head hits the pillow and I fight the demons in my head for just a hint of sleep. The battle against them rages on for hours until I finally fall into a restless slumber.

When the sun finally rises the next day I feel no more rested than I did before the depths of slumber finally welcomed me. The sun light shines into my room and leaves no darkness. Every flaw can be seen in such powerful lighting. My eyes adjust to the light slowly as I make my way from my bed. Tip toeing across cold hardwood flooring with bare feet.

I make my way over to my closet so that I can prepare myself for the day. This is one of the worst parts of my day. Staring at all the bright colors. The floral patterns. The dresses and the heels. All of it screaming at me just as my mother does. “You are a girl,” they say. “That will never change. You will always be a girl.”

I grab a light pink dress with an even lighter shade of pink polka dots. Putting them together with a pair of pink heels I make my way over to my vanity. Sitting on the mahogany stool I look into the mirror and fight off the tears that I can feel beginning to fill my eyes. I put on a natural lip stick and some soft white eye shadow. Brushing out my long, blonde hair and pulling it back into a low ponytail.

I look like the perfect little girl. The complete opposite of my mother really. With her all black attire and her stunningly long black hair brightening stark blue eyes. Maybe I could have been allowed to have a look such as that. But my mother decided to torture me into being the most girly girl I could be. The picture perfect lady. She wanted to brand it into to my very soul.

“Victoria!” my mother shouts up the stairs. Her voice loud and commanding. “You have better be down here in five minutes or you will not be getting breakfast!” I let out a sigh that I am glad she cannot hear. Doing something so disrespectful would only make matters worse.

“Yes, Mother! I will be down in just a moment!” I respond loud enough for her to hear me. Keeping the tone calm and polite. Though I want nothing more than to scream. Victoria. I hate that name. I hate it wish everything I have.

Grabbing my backpack and my gym bag I quickly make my way down the stairs. My mother’s eyes fall upon me as soon as she hears me enter the kitchen. She looks me up and down with scrutinizing eyes. Making sure that I look up to her standards. To our family name. She nods with approval and I take a seat at the kitchen table. Handed a plate of waffles on fine porcelain plates. The edges decorates with pink roses and swirling wines. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Who puts waffles on fine china? There is nothing high class about waffles. Of course I do not say this out loud.

“You will be having some lessons with one of the Sisters tonight. So, I hope you had not made any plans. If you have then I expect that you will cancel them. Matters in The Practice are much more important than your little friends. Though if you wish to have Amelia join you I would not be against it.”

I paste a smile onto my face as I listen to my mother address me. Of course I have plans. She already knew this. Today was rehearsal for a show that I was working on with my friend Jin. But Jin had no place in my life according to her. Amelia was much more suited to be my friend, being a woman and all. Men were not worth the effort of acquiring friendship with. And I am certainly too young to be looking into procreation and marriage. The only true reason men were thought to have been put onto the Earth. “Of course, Mother. I can have those plans rearranged. I will have to speak with Amelia, but I am sure she would love to get a couple lessons in. What is on tonight's agenda?”

“You will be practicing your divination skills. We know that this is your weakest area. This cannot be allowed to continue on. The Grayson family name is known to excel in Divination. That is why we are called upon so often to help the government and police investigations. We cannot have you bring down our name with your lack of skill.”

Her words were thrown at me like daggers into the center of a target. Hitting me with ease and not blinking an eye. It was clear that she cared more about the family name than she did that of her one and only child. I did not respond to my mother’s harsh words. Her eyes looking at me as if I were filth beneath her foot.

With rage and pain filling my heart I was left alone to finish my breakfast. It sat there with me in stillness. Growing colder by the second. But the anger soon left me. Leaving my body feeling numb and empty and cold. Sadness began to fill my lungs. The feeling overflowing and spilling out of me. Tears falling out of my eyes as I took it all in. Took in the fact that I did not matter. I picked up my bags and headed for the door. The slick and stunning, black Impala waiting in front of our wide double doors. The back door open as the driver waited on me to take my seat. I got into the car and the door was shut behind me. In the moment I thought of how the moment reminded me that the door was just like my mother’s heart.

I watched the trees fly by me as car went down the road. Heading to the only place I could get away from my mother’s bearings. At school I pushed the thoughts of her out of my mind. And the waffles were left forgotten.

Author's Note

please ignore grammar in the case of incomplete sentences. I hate commas.