The Seventh Circle HTML version
The Seventh Circle
Copy right Mike Dixon
Eleventh day of the Moon of Morning Mists. Shrine of the Holy Mother.
Kingdom of the Catti. Realm Beyond the Seventh Circle.
The sun slipped towards the horizon and the hillside was bathed in a warm glow. As
day gave way to night, the shadows lengthened and revealed the contours of the
land. Sensuous ridges stretched out like thighs and mounds poked up like breasts.
It was as if an immense female presence lay below the ground.
On that pleasant summer evening , a young woman strode along a narrow path. She
wore a white dress and carried a woollen shawl. Her long black hair hung lazily
down her back and she hummed a little tune as she made her way past fat sheep
and cows suckling their young.
She went between the mounds and followed the path down the slope to where the
two ridges met. A dark pool nestled there below a triangle of golden bracken. She
reached it and sank to her knees.
'Holy Mother, hear my prayer.'
Her hands slipped inside her dress and clasped the image that hung there on a
leather cord. Painted in bright colours, it represented a pregnant woman with huge
breasts and extended buttocks.
She kissed the image.
'Blessed lady, I come not for myself but for my dear mother. Many moons have
passed since you honoured her with your divine favour. You entered into her when
she was young and worked your purpose through her. In sickness and in health she
has been your sword and shield ... now she has grown old.'
Her voice fell to a whisper.
'Great Lady, my poor mother is tired. Her old bones ache. I beseech you. Let me
take up her burden. Enter into me as you did to her. Let me serve you as she has
She gazed into the pool as if waiting for a sign. A long time passed. Then a full
moon rose. Its silvery rays struck the pool and a swirling vortex of white water sped
'Holy Mother. I am honoured by your trust.'