[[A Civilization gone with the wind...]]
------------------------They all crumble in the end.
- Spinning the threads makes no difference.
Endings come. All endings are chosen.
= How they're woven does not matter.
Knowing the ending? The journey isn't-
- Destroyed? No. It makes it all...
= Worthwhile? No. But it lends a-
- Certain bittersweet finality to the beginning.
Entire civilizations, gone with the wind.
( Read more... )
The Maiden she Spins. She Creates. She is the Creator. The strand is begun and is, by her spindle and hand, spun.
The Mother, she Measures. She Allots. She is the Sustainer. By her rod, the strand is given a particular length.
The Crone, she Cuts. She Chooses. She is the Inevitable. With her shears, she decides upon the manner of a mortals death.
On the third day, they visit. The Three Sisters discuss the new child wrapped in blankets in his bed in hushed tones and quiet gazes while parents and family huddle in the corner. A strand is produced, a rod is used to measure...
... and they're gone. No hints are given. No advice, no guiding hand. They simply move on to the next waiting child. A waiting family. Each is given the same courtesy. Some strands are very long, some are very short. The Crone may even use her shears at times. Sometimes she takes the life of the child, sometimes the life of a family member. Strands come and go and the Maiden, Mother and Crone work in quick efficiency. Time truly waits for no one.
However, and this is very important, one can never live in fear of Fate. After all, tomorrow is another day.
The Fates
212 Words
Clotho: The town needed a hero, Lachesis.
Lachesis: So you sent them the boy?
Clotho: Why not? We knew his fate.
Lachesis: I knew his fate. Not you.
Clotho: He was very pretty to watch.
Lachesis: You made Attie pull the shears.
Clotho: Well, it's not like they worked.
Atropos: What's the matter with these scissors?!
( Read more... )
Clotho: Nothing big has a big beginning.
Atropos: They can have large endings, however.
Lachesis: Must you torture the parents so?
Clotho: Indeed. Put your shears away, dear.
( Read more... )
Clotho: Are we just staying in tonight?
Atropos: Khesis has the good stuff on.
Lachesis: Well, it's not REALLY that good-
Atropos: Don't lie. Some of the best.
( Read more... )
"There are reasons we seclude ourselves."
The admonishment wasn't as clear as it could have been and Clotho merely nodded once and continued on her way through the Temple. There was Work to be done.
"It is not said to injure."
A deep breath and Clotho gave her Sister Fate a smile and nodded again. She knew it wasn't meant to injure, yet the scolding was there to be heard.
"You will learn with time, Sister."
They were acting as though someone had died. As though she, the Maiden, were responsible for someone's death. If one could nevermind the not-so-subtle threat to life if so much as a friendship were continued to be acted upon, then yes, she would have been.
"I am aware now, silly hags."
She tossed the insult lightly, but eased down onto her stool lightly, her back to them. She spun, her distaff working and she tilted her head to watch, refusing to speak further on the subject.
"Our Work calls on Us, Spinner."
"As it does, always, dear Sister." Her voice had turned monotonous, as it did after long periods of time alone. This time, it was merely concentration. Lachesis and Atropos eyed one another.
"We shall heed this call, Clotho."
"Take time in your aloneness, Sister."
Clotho merely nodded and continued her spinning. So very rarely did they mingle. So few friendships. So few opportunities. And so rarely did they allow personal feelings to tie in with Fate.
Poseidon was safe, as he well knew. It was the only reason he knew he could do the things he did. Fate did not take revenge, no matter how hurt or petty they were feeling. They merely buried themselves in work for another few thousand years.
Alone.
Fate
297 Words
