The Weaver of Dreams

The hour was late and the Tribe slept soundly in their beds, warm and secure, the watch fires burned brightly sending swirling ash skywards like ribbons of light reaching up to meet the soft glow of the Moon whose ever watchful eye kept guard over the just and good. Lovers embraced in the chill air, touches of warmth and care layering sleep with the security of their proximity, as together they dreamt of better days. It was at this hour, when the earth sighed giving up it's last breath before it too drifted into the lullaby of the moon's gentle light, that the living world found the peace of sleep, but this was not a peace shared by all for in the dark places of the world the restless stirred and the wandering soul found no peace.

In the darkened Hut by the shore, the moon's light twisted in the bare branches of the tree that hung above the hut, sinister fingers of shadow grasping the small dwelling, squeezing, reaching, clawing at the windows whose stained glass reflected the flickering light of candles within. Upon a seat of softest silk, layered upon the bones of those long dead sat a wizened form of an Old Troll. A skull painted face leaned to one side, chin cradled in clawed fingers, the cherry glow of a half smoked cigar hung from thin lips, it's infernal light illuminating eyes as pale as fresh snow shadowed under the brim of a beaten old Tophat. The sweet smell of cigar smoke and tallow filled the dwelling, casting a hazy waxy smoke that hung in the air like drapes of whispery cloth. Those eyes devoid of life, devoid of warmth stared out through the crooked lined glass window at the graveyard beyond, stone upon stone...their creamy white texture glowing in the moon's gentle glow.

Hour upon hour the old Troll watched, a silent vigil, a grim task undertaken by the souls who would not, could not rest. The candle burned low, sputtering as the tallow embraced the burning wick choking it from the air that fueled it's lingering flame, the cigar mostly ash burned to it's quick, the cherry glow long since faded as smoldering tobacco burned the skin of the unfeeling fingers that held it. Eyes weary with exhaustion stared watching over his charge as the hours deepened into darkness, yet from the edge of his view motion caught his attention. Hung in the corner of the panel of crooked lined glass, a spider crawled outwards on strands of gossamer, legs like the hands of a seamstress worked along the shimmering strands, dancing, creating and weaving a pattern of beauty and death whose design was perfection in it's alluring simplicity. Interest piqued the old Troll watched as a delicate ballet of movement played out before him, the black glistening shell of the spider reflecting the light of the moon drew strand against strand as she danced along the night sky shining through the window pane.

Closing his eyes for but a moment he could hear her gentle song, a whisper at first as she began to work, growing, growing steadily louder as she worked, delicate digits tapping the gossamer strands that sounded like keys of a ghostly piano. Her voice was beautiful in it's cruelty whispering her song of enticement, calling prey to her silky embrace, gentle fingers strummed the chords out on strands that glowed in the light of the moon. Growing heavier his eyes struggled to watch to witness the midnight lullaby playing out beforehim, lids weighed down by exhaustion lidded lower, as eyes as white as fresh snow began to unfocus. Yet stillher song continued an orchestra of shadow played for an audience of one, sweet and sensual in it's somber tone the mistress of the web gently sang the Old Troll to his rest. As eyes closed and his head slumped toone side, sleep took the old Troll at last.

As her song drifted to a tender haunting end the siren of the web turned to face the sleeping Troll, many eyes watching his soft breathing as he rested at last. Her front legs bowed forward as she curtsied to the collector of souls, her soft voice drifting across the darkened hut as she slipped back to her abode "Sleep well old friend, and may the peace of dreams find you".