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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1370723-Dance-of-the-Phoenixes
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by Mr. B. Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #1370723
The sacred ceremony of the Phoenix flock.
         Phoenicia and Phineas perched a little late for breakfast, the morning before meeting the Master.  They weren’t reluctant; they had just stayed up very late, especially Phineas, too anxious to sleep.  About halfway through, they started hearing the joyous caws of the other children flying out to meet Master Phoebe, in the sculpture garden.  On a bright day on Altamara, the plumage filled their visions with bliss that would join with yesterday’s happiness, and last many days.  Phineas would definitely need it.
         A phoenix must fill purpose with ecstasy, like fuel in a gas tank, to undergo the change.  Master Phoebe inspired this spirit by being a good master, dutifully, completing the work for creators like Phineas.  Her Greatmaster was the Great master of the flock – the best in years and years.
As Phineas and Phoenicia, his little friend, approached, the light and the love was already a whirling sphere that sucked them into the Dance of the Phoenixes, which resembled a campfire getting started.  Wildly, a hundred phoenixes flew around and amongst the statues; the Master Phoebe perched in the center of the hexagon of statues, a study of unflappable serenity growing brighter and brighter all morning, while the participants became more and more synchronized.
         Whenever many wings flapped together, the air was suddenly pushed up or down.  An intricate, but harmonious, phoenix dance makes the most beautiful music when these air pressure changes combine in sequences or patterns.  When the dance is perfectly balanced and synchronized, the volume increased, thrusting Phineas in between the statues with the five other celebrants.
Stronger and stronger do they dance, like leaping flames of a roaring bonfire, until Phineas and the others are consumed, their ashes continuing to swirl in a whirlwind as the sun passes its zenith.  As the dance spreads out and the music breaks, life stirs in the tiny, fragile eggs for the first time.
Finally, Master Phoebe rises up on calm wings to declare the success of the change.  She circles the six eggs, each positioned under a magnificent statue of its future form at first slowly, observant, then faster leading a spiral procession up, up far above Altamara.
Phoenicia will join the festival for days until finding her Master and selecting her own little friend.
© Copyright 2008 Mr. B. (pantherband at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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