HumpDay Quickie #110

Posted: June 8, 2016 in Hump-Day Quickies
Tags: , , , ,

City of Women
by Voima Oy

Somewhere, there is an island that rose from the ocean fully-formed, like Venus on the shell. On this island, there is a city of women, called Parthen. Some say it was originally settled by mermaids, seeking freedom from the sea. Others say they came from the stars. There are no men, no murders. Female children from the nearby towns are left at the gates of the city in woven reed baskets provided for that purpose. Here, they find homes, like stray kittens.

Although there are no men in Parthen, there are sailors and carpenters and firefighters. There are doctors and musicians, teachers, scientists and mathematicians. There are poets in Parthen, too. It is sometimes called the city of poetry, because everyone is a poet, there. Every bake shop and cafe has readings. Every office has poetry contests.

In the main plaza downtown there is a statue of Sappho. She was an ancient poet, and sometimes called the Tenth Muse. She is one of the Muses of Parthen, but there are also statues of Demeter and Isis and Kuan Yin. There are many followers of Kali, and the Sisters of Medusa, who never cut their hair.

The women of Parthen are known for their hair. It is long and wild, black as the wings of the blackbirds that perch on the marble and granite statues. The hair is twisted and braided, coiled on their heads. Braids wind through the wide boulevards, tangling in the side streets, twining around the lamp posts.

In the summer evenings, when the women of Parthen gather on their balconies combing out their hair, the breeze is filled with the smells of rain and gardenias, oceans and cinnamon, smoke from autumn fires.

The scent wafts over the gates of the city, where men gather from far and wide, drawn by the irresistible perfume. The gates open for one night on the summer solstice, a night of feasting and dancing, wine and love. At dawn, bodies lie sprawled in the plazas. All morning, the sky is dark with blackbirds. By noon, the sun shines again on the bright white streets.

In Parthen, there are no men, no murders.

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