1a : a state of being beyond reason and self-control
b archaic : swoon
2: a state of overwhelming emotion; especially : rapturous delight
3: trance; especially : a mystic or prophetic trance
The candles cast the room with a dreary glow. Nadia had gathered them from the various corners around the house, and the sickly sweet smell of too many fruits hung thickly in the air. Only Jill complained of the stench, but they ignored her. She always had to have something to complain about.
The three of them held hands, whispering the words they had memorized from the book Marissa had stolen from the library. They were under strict instructions not break the circle. The sweat on their palms that made them slick only made them hold on tighter, in fear of being the one to ruin everything.
After an hour, Nadia started to grow bored. It was Marissa's idea, but Nadia had offered the space, the secrecy, and the candles. Marissa always had great ideas, but she had terrible follow through. Opening her left eye ever so slightly, she wished she had let this idea fall through.
It was a second later that Jill started shaking. Her eyes were closed, hands holding firm, firmer than before. Nadia opened her eyes all the way, as did Marissa. Jill's stayed closed, but her mouth did not. She started to speak, words they didn't understand. She spoke of crashing planes and bombs and misery and darkness. She was in perfect ecstasy, and try as they might, the girls couldn't break her hands.
Jill turned to Nadia. "You will never dance at your son's wedding." She pulled her hand back, exhausted, and weeping.
The girls didn't speak again, their friendships blowing out like those many candles. When Nadia lay on her death bed, weeks before her son's wedding she remembered those words, sweat on her palms, smelling the sickly sweet scent of candle wax.