Completed [Webby Winter]The Man Who Stole Women

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A surreal cavern city inhabited by Symenestra where stones glow and streets are reams of silk. Cocoon like structures hang between stalactites and cascade over limestone flows in organic and eerie arabesques. Without a Symenestra willing to escort you, entrance is impossible.

[Webby Winter]The Man Who Stole Women

Postby Keene Ward on December 31st, 2015, 4:51 am

The men of Kalinor sought women like gold,
Save for one man who's intentions were cold.
To him, they were nothing more than flesh bags,
Their titles irrelevant: dame, broad, or hags.
Perhaps it was due to his terse disposition,
or maybe a simple lack of ambition.
In truth, while not certain, the reason, you see,
Was he didn't know love, nor what it should be.
Of course, it was different for all of the spiders,
Who sought out their women for shifty desires.
Still, he watched them, the men, gather women with glee,
And he wondered a wonder, as some tried to flee.
"What is this practice? Why do they run?
They all seem distraught, that doesn't look fun."
He plotted a ploy, though not one well meaning,
And asked all the spiders about their ritual "gleaning".
Each said it was knowledge, to know!
Know! Know! Know!
It was to help their dying culture to grow!
Grow! Grow! Grow!
But still he had questions where answers were little,
So he sought out a woman, wrinkled and brittle.
"You won't understand, you can't and that's that."
So the man decided he'd test out that fact.
Each of the ladies he took by the hand,
Some of them willing and some contraband.
One by one he removed them, most without trouble,
Until only one was left in a soft silken bubble.
When he readied himself to set the girl free,
There came a small whimper just near his knee.
It was a young child, pale skin and light hair,
Who's voice wavered gently and sounded quite fair.
"Why are you taking my mother to be?
Has she done something wrong?" He asked without glee.
"A mother, you say?" He asked with a frown,
"She is not a captive in this cavernous town?"
"She is a savior! A vessel of life!
Our people have suffered a long line of strife."
"What do you mean? Please state it straight."
"The spider men need her to procreate."
He paused and thought, then he thought some more,
"So they all are no more than some webbed wombed whores?"
"No no, they all die, our venom is deadly,
But they are respected, remembered in beautiful medley."
With new knowledge gained, he struck down the child,
And withdrew the woman from her domicile.
"Let's see what they do with no women around."
But then, in the morning, there came a strange sound.
It was of women and laughter, of happy, light banters,
Their voices rose up to the low hanging rafters,
They sang and they danced, and they all had a ball,
And the man was left frowning at the sight of it all.
"I don't understand, was that small child lying?
Should not all these people be wailing and crying?"
He watched from a distance, his mind busy thinking,
When down the streets woman came all a winking.
There were tall ones and shorts ones and fats one as more,
And it was then that his thoughts opened a door.
The Gleaning, The Harvest, their survival they needed,
Was not in the woman that were poisoned and breeded,
It was in the hearts of each little sym,
And so it was his success had been slim.
"Maybe there's more to this than I first thought,
But if there is I'm finding naught."
And so no lesson was learned that day,
And he stayed cold and icy, and liked it that way.
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Keene Ward
Chilly Wizard
 
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