The Fun of It

Here's a little ditty I scrambled together for a Figment.com writing challenge. The task was to construct a 250 or less snippet about a secret initiation ceremony. This version is the one I didn't have to cut so much ;-)

It was in my eyes now, the melting, syrup white. All my senses dulled, flooded together in a dizzying mire, as if I existed in the eye of a storm, the center of a fast-spinning cyclone. My mind shut down, focused only the idea of success. Life would rewind if I did not succeed. It wouldn't stop, no, and it wouldn't harm, but how could footsteps backward be acceptable when all I had to do was succeed? 

Of course, there was a real consequence...no respect, that's what. None at all, and from the people I was supposed to move forward with. It wasn't a start I could contemplate. All I had to do was keep going, feel the weight of the globe in my palm, then the other, both gone now and back again. Over and over as the white flung at my face until I couldn't breathe or swallow or see. 

It was just a stream of whipping, the cream sort, the globes brightly-colored balls I juggled so speedily they could barely be discerned. It was almost over now, the unofficial entry into the brotherhood. An alarm clanged and I smiled to myself, licking the cream from my lips as the balls spiraled downward, tired from their juggling ordeal. I had succeeded. Clown school would have to get used to me.