Sunday, 26 January 2014

Arachne

      The young woman sat outside her house, weaving at her loom while the people gazed in awe at the wonderous designs she made. Nymphs left their beautiful meadows to watch Arachne's artwork. Her spindly fingers wrapped themselves around the wool with such intricacy that she was renowned all over Greece of her weaving abilities.
      Her fame was so widely spoken of that even the gods on high Olympus heard her, which proved to be rather unfortunate for young Arachne.
      "Look at the colours!" a woman from the village said, "She must have been taught by Athena herself to weave with such beauty!"
       Arachne's proud smile faded at the sound of the woman's remark and twisted into a grimace. "Never have I been taught!" She growled at the woman. "Athena could learn from me, for my tapestries could win against hers even if she had eight arms."
       The villagers gasped and looked to the skies, awaiting a sign of godly punishment for the boastful Arachne. The skies remained still, volcanos were calm, and the earth did not tremble. Arachne's fate was far worse.
      "It takes a brave heart to praise yourself higher than a goddess, young Arachne." The crowd separated, revealing an old woman with startling grey eyes. Despite her withered appearance, she carried a strong aura with her that was powerful enough to paralyze an enraged bull. "The wrath of the gods can be bitter, it would be wise not to incur it."
       "Then Athena can come silence me if she thinks she can weave better."
       The old woman's laughed in a raspy tone, but it grew more youthful and roar-like. Her wrinkles faded and her hunch straightened. Where her wispy white hair once sat became a helmet with obsidian black hair sprouting from the bottom. Her cold grey eyes were the only feature left unchanged. The goddess Athena stood before Arachne, her cold stare made Arachne step backwards in fear.
       Athena spoke in a deep voice, "I accept your challenge."
       Arachne's hands trembled as she grasped the silk and wool, watching Athena stride over to the loom. The village was silent while the woman and the goddess worked.
       The tapestry grew vibrant as Arachne's fingers rythmically circled and dove between the threads, bringing the images to life. In her tapestry she displayed the various infidelities of Zeus in order to display the folly of the gods. Her tapestry was stunning, so lifelike that the white bull chasing Europa seemed to stir amid the silk. Leda and the swan moved within the water as if the tapestry was wet.
       Athena's tapestry revealed the good nature of the gods: it was her contest over Athens with Poseidon in which he offered Athens a saltwater spring and she gave them the olive tree. The tree on the tapestry swayed while the spring seemed to shoot water and trickle down the silk.
      It was the villagers choice who was best, the goddess or the mortal, but not one of them could decide.
      Enraged, Athena destroyed the loom and glared at Arachne with her peircing eyes. Arachne's fear and guilt overcame her, causing her to hang herself.
     Pitying the dead woman, Athena granted Arachne life once again, but cursed her and her descendants to forever weave as spiders, weaving to survive.
     Arachne hung from her web, her beautiful web that displayed the image of the goddess Athena and her own mistake in praising herself higher than the goddess.