Rain Dance
by Kinto Mythostian


The shrill ringing of my alarm pierces my slumber and banishes my dreams. Thus roused from my sleep I sit up on my bed and fumble in the dark for the switch. The brazen ringing fades from my ears as the haze of sleep drains away from my mind and I remember. Today is the day I have chosen. Today I am going to die.

It is still very early and the Academy's generator has not yet been turned on for the day. I strike a match and light the antique oil lamp on my bedside table, filling the small room with its flickering orange light. I have used the lamp a lot over the past several days, even when electricity has been available to me. There are no windows in this room in the Temple basement, and there is a warmth to the lamp's illumination that electric light lacks. 

It is much the same with many things here at the Academy. Deprived of many modern luxuries, life here feels less hurried and more personal. Tasks require individual care and attention from devotees and the output is the better for it. Though I have only lived here for a few years, it has felt like a whole lifetime, and I have no regrets. 

I climb out of bed and kneel on the floor in my white flannel nightgown to recite my morning prayers. Even though I intend to be in the presence of the gods before the day is out, I do not wish to be neglectful in my devotion.

I cross the room to where a bathtub stands behind a privacy screen. I adjust the taps until the water is the appropriate temperature. While the tub fills, I brush my teeth at the sink, scrubbing the taste of sleep from my mouth. I neatly make my bed and lay out my Maroon formal uniform for today's ceremony. I strip out of my sleep uniform: the long White flannel nightgown, the Maroon wool stockings, and the White flannel leggings. These I fold precisely and set aside; after I have moved on they will be laundered and reissued to a new devotee.

For a moment I stand and look at my naked figure in the full-length mirror. Dark gray fur covers my body, from the tips of my pointed wolf ears to the neatly-trimmed claws of my toes. My lupine tail swishes behind me of its own accord as I brush one hand through my bellyfur to dislodge a few stray flecks of flannel lint. I shiver; over my years at the Academy I have become rather uncomfortable with nudity. Even though I am alone in the room, I feel exposed. I want to be back in the security of my uniform as soon as possible; my body is for the gods' and mine eyes only.

Quickly I turn away from the mirror and climb into the tub, letting my body slowly sink into the cool soothing water. I turn off the taps and begin to wash myself, working the water and shampoo into a cleansing lather. I clean myself thoroughly; this will be the last bath I ever take and I want to be at my best when I present myself. I go over my whole body twice, paying extra attention to areas I might usually overlook: between my toes, behind my ears, under my tail, and so on. As a final touch I anoint myself with some rose-scented fur conditioner.

When I am satisfied that I have done my best to purify my physical body, I climb out of the tub and pull the plug to let the water drain as I begin the time-consuming process of toweling all my fur dry. I pause in my task briefly to listen to the wonderful little gurgling noise as the last dregs of my bath drain from the tub; the sound never fails to make me smile.

I finish drying myself as quickly as I dare. I am anxious to be swaddled in the familiar safety of my uniform once more. I hang up my towel and cross the small room back to my bed without even glancing at my nudity in the mirror. 

My underwear goes on first, a simple white one-piece garment that covers the gray fur of my torso from my shoulders to my crotch. There is a hole in the back for my tail, secured in place by a pair of buttons. Next I pull on my stockings, the Maroon material enveloping each leg from my toes to my thighs. My underdress is next, long-sleeved and ankle-length and Maroon like my stockings. There is no hole for my tail; it is concealed by the long skirt of my dress, forming a bulge in the back. Finally, I don my decorative outer dress over my underdress, likewise Maroon and trimmed with a bit of white lace at the cuffs. The thin velvety material shimmers in the lamplight as I adjust it and smooth out a few stray wrinkles.

My stockings and underdress are thick and heavy, and the whole uniform has been tailored to fit like a second skin. Already I can feel my body growing warmer. My formal uniform is not meant to be comfortable, but it is a discomfort I have become very familiar with. It is a visual and physical reminder of my devotion and of the commitment I made when I chose to enroll at the Academy.

Now that I am properly dressed with my fur demurely hidden away, I turn to properly look at my reflection in the mirror. As I run a brush through my headfur I imagine how I will look on the Amphitheatre's gallows at my sacrifice, standing tall in the golden rays of the morning sun, resplendent in my Maroon dress: a perfect, beautiful offering to the gods. I entertain the thought for only a moment before I realize that I am straying dangerously close to the sins of pride and vanity. It is Proper that I look my best when I present myself at the altar, but it should be done to show humble respect to the gods. It should never be done out of vanity.

I turn away from the mirror and assume a kneeling position on the rug in the center of the floor, my dresses spread out around me. I relax. My breath slows. I empty my mind of thought. I meditate on the meaning of my impending death. My body will expire, but it will be because I have chosen to die. I have chosen to face death and welcome it. I am not afraid because my will is stronger than my instinct for survival.

I do not know how long I spend immersed in quiet meditation. I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, not sparing a single glance towards my clock. Time is no longer of any significance. I am ready whenever I am called for. 

There is a gentle knock at the door and then the sound of a key turning in the outside lock. I stand up stiffly; my legs have fallen asleep. The door opens and a wolfess like myself enters, though her fur is silver and her formal uniform is Light Green. A gold stole is draped across her shoulders.

"Good morning, Danielle," I say and curtsey politely.

"Good morning, Joan," the Academy's chief priestess returns my greeting and then says simply, "It is time."

I nod. "I am ready."

I follow Danielle out into the hall without a second glance at the windowless cell that has been my home for the past twelve days. In the corridor, I greet one of Danielle's assistant priestesses, a doe named Vireo clad in a Lilac formal uniform.

I walk in the middle of our trio as we make our way through the Temple basement, Danielle ahead and Vireo behind. As we climb the stairs to the exit, my spirits rise. I desire to bask in the warmth of the sun one final time before I depart from this world. Danielle opens the door.  

My heart sinks. Clouds as gray and opaque as my fur shroud the sky from horizon to horizon. The ground and the grass are dry, but there is a humid scent in the air promising rain to come. I do my best to hide my disappointment as we make our way across the shaded grounds to the Amphitheatre. Normally I love to savor the sound of the gravel paths scrunching beneath my stockings, but the unwelcome clouds are a distraction. All I can think about is the fact that I will never see the sun again. 

I hardly even notice when we reach the Amphitheatre. We pause in the entrance tunnel and Danielle turns to look at me. She knows something is bothering me; somehow, she can always tell. Without a word, her eyes ask me if I am still willing to go through with my sacrifice. Just as silently, I answer. 

Still, as Danielle leads me into the Amphitheatre I find myself wishing for a sunbeam.

I can feel every eye in the Amphitheatre on the back of my neck, but my own eyes are fixed directly ahead where a gallows has been erected on the stage for my sacrifice. Once again vanity rears its ugly head in my mind as I picture myself standing there in the sun, and know that that fantasy will never come true. I force the thought from my mind; the weather is irrelevant to the Nobility of my sacrifice. 

We climb the steps to the stage; Danielle and I stop, but Vireo leaves us to take her place beside another assistant priestess waiting off to the side. She is holding a neatly folded shroud. My corpse will be wrapped in it.

"Kneel," Danielle commands and I obey. Statues of the gods are arrayed along the back of the stage. I focus my eyes on them and try to forget the clouds; before the day is over I will be in their true presence. I bow my head.

"Joan, are you prepared to bring your life to an end on this day?" It is the first question, to affirm that I truly am a willing sacrifice.

"Yes," I respond quietly. My heart is pounding in my chest; my body does not want to die.

"Joan, I ask you again in the presence of these witnesses, your sisters, are you prepared to give your life on this day?" I may respond in the negative to any of the three questions and continue my life without shame.

"Yes," I say. My will is stronger than my body. My ability to choose my own fate is more valuable than one hundred years of life.

"Joan, I ask you one final time. Are you prepared to die on this day?"

I hesitate. I could say no. I could wait for a sunny day to die. I am ready to die, but I will be just as ready tomorrow. There is no reason my sacrifice has to be today. 

Except that there is. I chose this day. I made a promise. I promised the gods. I promised *myself* that today would be the day of my death. A promise like that should not be broken. It cannot be broken. If the gods have ordained that I die beneath a cloudy sky, it is not my place to desire otherwise. I have chosen to make my wants subordinate to theirs, and it would be selfish and wrong to change that now. I will die today, sun or no sun.

I look up at Danielle. "Yes," I acquiesce loudly and confidently.

"Joan, by the power vested in me as chief priestess of this Academy, I condemn you to death, to be carried out immediately, here in the presence of the gods." Danielle smiles at me.

My spirit lifts and I breathe a sigh of relief. This has been a test sent by the gods, and I have passed. I have rejected unthinking instinct and affirmed that my will is as strong as ever. Danielle offers her hand and helps me to my feet. Together, we climb the gallows steps.

At the top I get a good look at my audience for the first time. The Amphitheatre seats are packed, a mosaic of formal uniforms in all twelve Noble Hues. Despite the gloomy weather, dozens of my sister devotees have turned out to witness my sacrifice. I recognize a few of my close friends in the crowd, but more numerous are faces I recognize only in passing. I am glad to have their solemn witness.

Danielle guides me to the center of the wooden platform and positions my stocking footpaws on the trapdoor; it creaks under my weight, held in place by only a single catch. The sound sends an excited shiver down my spine; this trapdoor is the last solid surface I will ever feel beneath my soles. I stand up as tall as I can, my muzzle level and pointed straight ahead. Danielle gently grasps my arm and I allow her to bind my wrists behind my back. She pulls the rope tight and I wince slightly. Like my uniform, it is uncomfortable but in a good way. Danielle descends to her knees and binds my ankles as well.

Danielle stands and one of her assistants passes her a blindfold; I cast my gaze skyward one final time. The iron sky is unchanged but I am at last at peace with it. Danielle places the soft black blindfold over my eyes and knots it in place, sealing off my sight for good.

Finally, Danielle delicately wraps my fragile throat in the coarse embrace of the noose. I reflexively release a faint whimper as Danielle draws the knot tight around my neck, the rope flattening my fur against my skin. I know it is only a small taste of the pain I have chosen to subject myself to, and I am anxious to feel the true strength of the noose's bite that will rend my spirit from my body. I hear a quiet thump as Danielle tosses the rope's loose end over the gibbet arm and it lands on the other side. There is a faint susurration of rope on wood as she ties it off. I feel a sensation of weight as she drapes the slack over my shoulder. By my own request, I will have a few feet of drop.

Danielle softly kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "Goodbye, Joan." I nod once in response, the noose chafing against my neck.

I am perched now on the verge of death. There is no turning back. My whole body is tensed, my senses heightened, waiting for the slightest hint that may signal my end. Each quiet second stretches into an eternity.

Suddenly, I feel a soft touch on my pricked ear and my whole body twitches in nervous reflex. There is a soft tap on my furry cheek and then on my forehead. There is another on my nose and I feel wetness; it is starting to rain. Deprived of my sight and my remaining senses sharpened by the imminence of my death, I can feel each individual drop hit my body and hear every tiny impact. 

The rain caresses my body, every drop a tiny tickling kiss on my face and head. The gentle rain cools my body, bathing me, washing over me. It is a gift from the gods, a final blessing and reward for my faith. The shower is infinitely more intimate than the sunbeam I thought I wanted. If I had selfishly backed out, I would have never gotten to experience this.

Every one of my senses is stimulated. The rich, damp aroma floods my nostrils. The rhythmic patter of drops on the wooden gallows increases, filling my ears with the music of the rain. I open my mouth and taste the pure, sweet water on my tongue.

I smile and my tense body relaxes, basking in the shower, savoring the moment. How could I have never before noticed how wonderful rain is? A happy laugh escapes from my lips as the water trickles down my neck and back. 

A single sharp sound rises above the percussion of the rain. It is the catch being released. The trapdoor swings open.

For one glorious point in time I am weightless, balanced on nothing but air. Before I even realize it, I am falling, keeping pace with the rain around me as I plummet towards the ground. Unlike the rain, I am destined to never make it that far; after a few short feet, the slack runs out and I abruptly jerk to a bone-jarring stop. My windpipe is mercilessly crushed closed in an instant and I exhale sharply in shock, involuntarily expelling the last of my air. Stars of colored light burst in front of my eyes and for a moment I am aware of nothing but the excruciating pain. It is a terrific sensation and I embrace it, letting it claim my body. The tender rain continues to bathe me, soothing my spirit. This is the fate I have chosen, and I welcome it. 

Nevertheless, I can do nothing to stop my body from instinctively struggling to prolong my life. My wrists and ankles strain against their bindings, setting me swaying and twisting in a futile effort for freedom. My tail thrashes desperately, sending waves through the heavy material of my dress. My jaws gape, the sweet rain washing over my swollen, lolling tongue and running down the back of my mouth. It does not get far; the noose is agonizingly tight under my chin, constricting my throat to a narrow passage through which far too little air can pass. My lungs are on fire, my pulse throbbing in my temples, and it is wonderful.

I am dying. Already, I can feel my life fading, my body growing cold and numb. Sensations arrive as though from a long way away. I am aware of burning lungs and limbs twitching randomly, but it feels as though it is all happening to someone else. 

The only thing that I am sure is my own is the frantic pounding of my heart; it merges with the incessant drumming of the rain on the gallows, the harmonized percussion obliterating every other noise.

Abruptly, one of the sounds stops.

The other increases to deafening volume and I feel a chilling stillness seize me. I survive just long enough to be aware of the body adding its own golden trickle to the shower and then I know no more as the rain washes my life away.








First draft written September 9, 2010, to September 15, 2010, on notepaper during my lunch hours at work.  I wasn't satisfied with it so I never finished editing it. Revisited and *heavily* revised beginning on April 30, 2011. Final editing completed June 5, 2011.