A Story
... from the rubble of the last war the statue of the
‘ideal’ national governments fought against, in the name of their Popes, and
Holy Fathers, towered. She was now a timeless wonder in the dying
consciousness, and cultures that feared the symbol and actual powers of the
wombs she may have, and eventually did open up would rob the Holy Men of their
contrived power, and send them into a kind of poverty they'd never envisioned
for themselves.
It was centuries in the making, but in a few short
months that war ended the shortages of food and resources as the last vestiges
of Old Power(s) shifted in the ash and fallout of the calamities of war, and
disease. Little girls and under-developed women emerged from hiding seeking
scraps of their former lives. In tattered dresses and broken spirits girls,
dazed by the onslaught of silence after months of deafening roars of sound
stumbled into the clearings, and from now opened passages from underground, and
beneath houses into the gray light a new day said to them, “Come.” - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 11.9.12
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