Penelope

Young and beautiful,
In that sort of peasant way.
Oh, amidst the flowers in bloom,
She did sway.

Little Eliza dreamt of the city,
With fantasies of want.
In her dress of simple linen
It was a cruel taunt.

Day in and day out she worked
Forever bound to the home
Stealing moments of knowledge
From every massive tome.

Books upon books she would read
Till in the evening her father would yell;
“Eliza, sweet, put down that book.
Let your mind rest a spell!”

Day after day she did the same,
Her mind filled with hope.
As tightly wound and unbreakable
As a knotted hempen rope.

Finally, during supper, she spoke;
“Ma, Pa, I wish to go to the Empire!”
Her heart gave way
And released her hidden desire.

Nervous glances and disbelief
Filled the air like smoke.
Until her father,
In a deep growl spoke.

“Eliza, dear child,” he began.
“Such dreams are foolish.
How can you, devout and pure,
Ever want such a wish?”

“To wallow in the land of sin!”
Her mother said with fright.
“To see monsters every morn!”
Her brother said in the candle light.

“But Ma, Pa, and dear brother,”
Eliza began with wet eyes.
“I wish to learn and know!
These are not childish lies!”

“Much coin has Pa saved,”
She said with clasped hands.
“Surely he can spare some
So his child’s mind may expand?”

Her words struck them,
Like a lance to the breast.
So educated was she
Who not let the matter rest.

Finally, days later,
Her father took her hand into his own.
He sat across from her and spoke;
“Eliza, dear, you are a woman grown.

And while it pains me greatly,”
His eyes grew wet with sorrow.
“I will allow you to go to the city,
Come the next moon’s morrow.”

She held her father tightly,
Joy and excitement filling her chest.
And when the time came,
They gave her their best.

She stepped on the ship,
Shawl and dress modest
Around her lithe form.
She, pure and honest.
**
With eyes wide and mouth agape.
She stared at the white city,
Just like in her dreams.
The thought sight her giddy.

Around her people walked
With lavish outfits of nobility.
She looked down at herself,
Her brown dress of modest humility.

They looked so different,
These people of the Empire.
Their hair, long and colorful
And their eyes, luminous like fire.

They moved about her swiftly.
She was foreign, so none of them cared.
They spoke harshly and gave mean stares.
It made little Eliza very scared.

She held her satchel tight
Books and papers a bundle.
She looked around nervously,
Her mind in a tumble.

Where was she to go?
Where was her home?
How was poor Eliza
Ever to study her tomes?

Then along came a man
Dressed in splendor.
His doublet deep purple
And trimmed with golden grandeur.

“Sweet thing!” He said in her tongue
“You look lost, like a fish out of the sea.
You’re not from around here,
That is plain to see.”

“Please sir,” She said
“I seek the academy.”
Her eyes shift about with caution,
“Can you help me?”

“But sweet child!” He said,
With a hand to his breast.
“That is who I am. Flavius Marcuni,
Here at your behest.”

He put his hand to her back,
Sensual and forceful.
She felt her heart race
Feeling a tad remorseful.

He led her through the winding streets,
Down the alleys and into dark.
Where she was greeted by other women
Dressed in little more than snark.

“Who’s this young thing?”
They seemed to sneer.
“Foreign and pretty.”
Said one as she grew near.

Eliza turned away,
Eyes cast down.
The man only smiled,
“Why do you frown?”

“I seek knowledge!”
Eliza said in dismay
“This is not right.
This is not the way!”

“Sweet child, it is I swear!”
His ringed fingers glowed in the light
“Never once have I led women astray,
Ask any, they’ll tell you I’m right.”

She was sat down, like the child she was.
Lavish and comfortable was the chair.
A woman, old and with much weight
Began to fix her hair.

“This is not right!” Eliza said with a whine.
“This is not the academy or the schools!
Where is the knowledge I so crave?
Why do I walk amongst the ghouls?”

The man gave a chide,
Speaking in his native tongue.
The woman cutting Eliza’s hair scoffed
But grabbed it and wrung.

“Sweet child, I have not learned your name.”
He said with a sigh.
“Please, let me know it child.
For how can I let this lie?”

“Eliza,” she said with a frown.
And then with a face of disgust
The man did turn. A hand to his face
And then a finger he thrust.

“You shall be Penelope,
Starting here and now.
Eliza? That, sweet child,
Is the name of a sow.”

“But my father gave me that name!”
She said as they tore her dress.
They held her down and spread her legs,
Cleaning up the ‘mess’.

“I am your new father now,
Sweet Penelope. Remember,”
He lifted her face to his.
“I will keep you forever.”

And so
Months had passed.
Penelope, for that was her name,
Sat with her companion on the grass.

He ran his fingers through her hair,
So smooth and smelling sweet.
To him, his eyes did reveal,
She was a splendid treat.

And so she did her duty,
As was her pay.
The entire night with him
She did lay.

Her mouth made sweet noises,
Told him what he wished to know.
But inside she was empty,
Disgusted and hollow.

The other girls were nice
And did their best to keep her safe.
Sometimes they could not
And Penelope could not strafe.

“I do not hurt you,
Sweet and dear Penelope.
I only wish to teach you respect!
Do you still love me?”

With a bruise on her cheek
And his hand on her still.
She gave a small smile
“I always will.”

In silence and darkness
She drew the blade on her thighs.
Every sweet, crimson drop
Matching her cries.

She had to hide her pain,
The other girls said.
For no man wishes to hear,
Your cries in his bed.

And so
After she had wept.
She let her skirts fall back down,
And let herself be swept.

Men, young and old,
Came to seek her affection.
As Flavius said, a finger on her cheek.
“She is of the best selection!”

Coins and promises they threw,
But one, old and gray, paid the most.
With him, she would lay,
And hope he’s a gracious host.

As she was trained, she made him comfortable.
She spent the day with him, arm in arm.
In the morning, he treated her well.
At night, he did her body harm.

Again and again he was inside her
Old and disgusting but quick to sleep.
The next morning she was brought back,
Bathed and trimmed, ready for the street.

“Sweet Penelope, sweet Penelope!”
Flavius said with a grin.
“How rich you have made me,
With your body made for sin!”

She only smiled and took the praise.
Though silently, in her shared room,
Penelope looked in the mirror.
She felt sorrow bloom.

Staring back at her, with dainty arms
And eyes so blue,
Little Eliza, in her modest brown dress.
But the fate to befall her;
If only she knew.