The Initiate - a short story

The Initiate

a short story bridging the Cloud Prophet Trilogy & The Swarm Trilogy

by

Megg Jensen

Copyright © 2011 by Megg Jensen

Published by 80 Pages, Inc

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

 1st Edition: December 2011

2nd Edition: April 2012

 This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***Special usage license granted to Wattpad for free distribution***

Also by Megg Jensen

http://www.meggjensen.com

http://www.facebook.com/meggjensenauthor

Cloud Prophet Trilogy

Anathema

Oubliette

Severed

The Swarm Trilogy

 Sleepers

 Afterlife

The Sundering - coming fall 2012

 ***

 “Don’t tear up, Eloh,” she told me. “You’ll have black streaks down your face if you do.”

I flinched, preparing for a slap across my cheek that did not come. For a moment I’d forgotten I was an initiate. No one would ever lay a hand on me again. I relaxed back into the chair.

She yanked on the side of my eyelid, pulling the skin so tight it felt like it would rip in two. A thick line of kohl wound its way around my eyes, led by her skilled hand. Commoners were not allowed to wear cosmetics. I’d never even known anyone who’d worn it. Cosmetics were saved for the queen and only applied by slaves who were referred to as cosmetae. Since I was one of the chosen, the cosmetae were to make me beautiful for only one night.

My sister said I was lucky. I knew otherwise.

“Hold your breath, now,” she said. She placed a small strip of linen over my nostrils. “I’m going to paint your eyelids and your brow with chalk. I promise, it will be a very becoming pattern. I’ve been practicing on rocks at night and I think I’ve come up with something new, definitely different than the girl who’ll stand next to you during the ceremony. You’ll stand out and maybe you’ll be favored.”

More than likely, by the end of the night I’d be dead. If by some remote chance I was favored, then the cosmeta would probably live a life of luxury. Anyone who had a hand in the creation of the Chosen One would be cared for. Her fingers swept deftly over my eyelids, patting the chalk into all the creases. A friend once told me they mixed the chalk with crocodile dung to help it cling to the skin. I tried to push it out of my mind.