I sat in the worn, oak chair across from my loom as I stared out into the vast ocean of color before me. I sat reminiscing, remembering the day he had left me, kissed me, told me he'd come back, and set out to fight in the war. It was a fight including mortal and immortal, and believed to have a continuing legacy for eons. He had chosen the largest ship in the fleet, and chosen our cities finest men to join him on his journey. They had reluctantly kissed their wives, children and boarded the vessel, that the day before we had blessed with sacrifices to the gods, whom we hoped would bless our men and bring them safely home. Excitement was in the air. This felt to be a millennium ago, and the men are believed dead. Their wives had now moved on, taken new husbands and losing their homes, but I refused to believe their fate.
I sit by this grand loom, with millions of strings criss crossing each other, weaving a mix of colors, creating an almost complete picture that I had hoped would pay ode to the man who granted me my love. Now it was my way to escape the suitors, everyday they sat and stared at me with their thin, beady eyes, waiting for me to complete my work. They hoped to take my hand and become the new found king.
Unbeknownst to them, each night I crept down, and by the moonlight undid the mighty scene. My fingers hurt and bled from the thin string, but I prayed to Athena each night and I found my work speed doubled, allowing me to avoid my unwanted marriage.
Tonight, I will not sleep. The loom, my escape is almost finished, for last night when I came out of my chamber the brute Antonious stood there. I stifled a scream, going back in and listened. A feminine voice spoke, unlike the rough voice i had expected. The words said I will not repeat, but what was spoken reminded me of the words my love had spoken before he left. They spoke of longing, of true love. The voice, I presume of a young woman, was me, so deeply in love, longing for the man. Yet, he was stiff and informal, as if he was bored by the maiden, and my ears strained, but the talking grew fainter, as I assumed they walked farther away. Fear kept me from leaving, for if the men were here, it would not be safe for me to walk in these hallways
Now I am creeping down the stairs again, as my suitors slept like hogs across the estate, their bellies rounded with my wine and poultry. Every night they dined like kings, drinking through our vault and going through our stores like savages. I gently stepped over one of the older suitors, as I reach the great hall that showcased my great loom, a wedding gift from my step-parents before my life drastically changed. I reach my almost finished loom. I started to undo the leftmost side, that I just completed this morning. The purple, red and yellow strings unfolded in my hand, destroying the sunset I worked so hard this afternoon to create, I quietly looped the string around my arm as I quietly went to set it down behind my loom, combining it with the masses I collected before Odysseus left.
I still remember the day he assembled the loom in the hall. It was an early frostbitten morning, and he had called me down. I gingerly crept down the stairs, and the sight before me took my breath away. The polished oak glistened in the early sunlight, marking a new day. I immediately began work on what I felt would be my greatest creation, the mighty Olympus and its Olympians . As I began, I had hoped these gods would continue to bless us, and help us lead a long and fulfilling life. Not long after, Odysseus left me, and the chaos descended into my life. I reached and undid the yellow strings that created one of Zeus mighty thunderbolts, and murmured a quick prayer, hoping he would bring my lord home, safe and well.
