Ritual

Remotely isolated between two tall mountains, Arial was a village that no one visited. There was another reason, a dark cloud so old that even the town's elders couldn't know for certain how it all began: everyone feared the moonlight.

It had always been so in Arial. There was a rumor of a flood that swept thru the region in a horrific wave of destruction, wiping out nearly all in one horrible day. Some surviving witnesses recalled how before that catastrophe, a bizarre moon appeared, drifting closer.

Then the moonlight somehow turned into raging volumes of water, floods bringing massive devastation. The moon had warned, but death came too quickly.

The elders passed down these vague, ominous stories, and  the whole town got scared about the evening- no one trusted the moon, no one went out after dark.

The belief was irrational, pervasive, and intractable. Fear- including mass fear- needs no truth to thrive; only practice, repetition, tradition. Fear quickly becomes an institution of ritual, given status, yet no one can confirm a reason.

The town of Arial maintained this frightful behavior until one fateful June evening, a night when the  infamous moon happened to fill full circle, perfect round of light pinned to the dark and shifting skyline.

Evelyn Rose was an enchanted young woman, the whole town thought her a sort of blessed angel, and her humble family was thankful for everyone's help: Evelyn was born in a coma, healthy but in a profoundly permanent state for her two decades.

Then, this fateful June dusk, moon still low near the horizon, her family sound asleep, Evelyn Rose startled slightly in her slumber. Then, she sprung up in her bed- eyes still closed and not really conscious, but also sparked by unknown motive that jogged her to then stand. Somehow, her weakened limbs held as she shuffled towards the door. 

Her parents had awakened and were shocked by the sight, then froze- they could not follow their sleep-walking daughter outside. She continued to wander towards the town as her horrified family watched from the window, still too afraid to follow.

As Evelyn Rose neared the hamlet, she abruptly halted. With her closed eyelids fluttering wildly, she tilted her head back, as if directly basking in the moon's ancient energy, absorbing the feared rays. Then, she slowly opened her eyes, the bright, full orb her very first sight. She was awake!

By then, others had noticed, many peering thru their windows in awe and wonder. They saw the moon had not consumed Evelyn Rose, or grown in size, nor did it bring deadly waters. From a young person they saw they no longer must be afraid.

As with the good townsfolk of Arial, all must awaken from the paralysis of fear's hypnotic grip.  Lockdowns of spirit must release hope from a year of detention, and the moon from its cage of worry, and our lives back from the bondage of fright.