#29 Beetle

On the night of the blue moon, she must complete the ritual of choosing her steed. She was a beetle rider, and she had been training for this moment her whole life, practicing to keep her balance on cicada shells. Moreover her mother had ridden on the back of beetles, as did her grandmother, and her grandmother's mother. It was a legacy that she cannot escape from, no matter how much she despised the creepy six-legged creatures.

She didn't mind the texture of the smooth shells, in fact, she would rip off parts of the dead beetles to add to her collection — she loved how many would shine in different iridescent shades in the sun and in the moonlight. It was the way the legs moved all in different directions as they scuttled off to the nearest flour that made the hair on her neck stand. At least, she wouldn't have to witness the beetles move for the ritual.

Contrary to what the name suggests, it is the beetle that chooses its rider. On the night, she will be blindfolded with a daisy petal, with a lit beeswax candle in one hand, and a grain of wheat in the other, and walk through the forest alone until the dawn breaks. If a beetle were to choose her, they would take a bite from the wheat to accept her offering and blow out the candle to signify that they will now be the light to guide her out of the forest.

There has only been one rider from the stories who did not get chosen by a beetle. They say she was eaten by a praying mantis when she left the forest.

"Better to be with God than live with the shame of not being chosen," they said.

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I've drawn beetles only one other time in my life, and it's still a difficult subject for me.