Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Maenad

There was just a moment in her early years when this behaviour just started to feel normal, natural. She would gather up her friends, usually at dusk, and bring many vessels of wine, place them in a field, usually a spot pleasing to the eye, then they would all drink and celebrate. Dancing would often happen about half way through the evening, then the clothing would come off. No one was ever embarrassed about it. It was all in good fun and all for the sake of Bacchus of which her and friends were followers of. She had hoped one day that the god of wine himself would appear and drink with them but week after week he never appeared. Sometimes she felt like they were getting pissed for no good reason, especially when she felt the effects the morning after. The pounding in her head, the aches in her bones, the horrible taste in her mouth – she was no longer a young girl able to purge the delicious poisons from her body. She had seen Maenads before (I guess she was one of them now) and they always looked so much older. She then made a mental note to look at her reflection in a still pool before the next festival and see if she was now one of them.

1 Comments:

Blogger Ian Wineberg said...

Fascinating, and a bit sad. Debunking the gods. More...

7:49 AM  

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