Prompt 1

The prompt says: At the age of 21 everyone receives a weapon that embodies them perfectly

I could hardly sleep last night. Today was my turn to follow the tradition. I had watched my older brothers get their weapons, and was anxious about what I would receive. History taught us that during time of war every 21 year old had received a weapon, like a sword or hammer that they could use best. As time progressed and peace prevailed the definition of weapon had changed. Now a weapon meant many things. One of my brothers received a stethoscope, signifying he would fight against disease. My other brother received a pencil set and paper, signifying he would fight with his art. Both of those fit my brothers perfectly. Some people still received actual weapons, but that was not as common, even though war seemed to be on the horizon. Today would tell me who I was, what I had to offer my community. My biggest worry was that I would receive nothing. It was rare, but every few years it happened. Some said receiving nothing meant that person had too many talents to offer, while others said they were worthless. I really hoped I was given something.

The time had arrived. With about 5 others I waited. My name meant that I would be the last one called. I struggled not to fidget in the beautiful blue dress my grandmother had made for me. The satin skirt shimmered, while the velvet bodice was soft as I rubbed my fingers on the long sleeves, in an attempt to calm down. The sun sparkled through the changing leaves. Only the breeze ruffling the leaves dared to interrupt the traditional speech. I concentrated on the play of the sun and leaves on the ground, determined to portray myself with dignity.

I jumped when the first name was called. So much for my dignity. I watched the first candidate approach the stage and kneel before the elders. As tradition stated, the eldest elder approached the candidate and called out a request for any body who felt that the candidate did not deserve the honor of a weapon to make themselves known. If no one came forward than the candidate was raised to standing  and presented with their weapon. The ceremony seemed so short as quickly my name was called.

I walked to the stage and knelt, listening to the elder call for any opposition. No one came forward and I was helped to stand before the elder. The moment had arrived. The youngest elder, being only in his sixties, approached me, under his cloth he pulled out a tiny silver book on a chain, the symbol for learning. I sighed in relief, but before I could do more than take the book another elder approached. Pulling a silver tear drop out of his pocket, he presented it to me. Confused I took it, watching as another elder approach. She pulled out a silver flame and presented it to me. Then I was given a silver tree, and a silver cloud from the remaining elders. I could hear the murmurs of the crowd. A candidate had never received more than one symbolic weapon, nor any so obscure.

Finally the oldest elder stepped forward, motioning for silence. “For years,” he atoned, “we have held to tradition of presenting weapons.  This tradition began with a king, who felt that each of his people possessed the ability to be great. When this king died a prophecy was foretold of a queen that would be born with courage, strength, and power to lead her people and again unite the lands. That time has come!”