Write365

There was so much to remember. The responsibility of being a priestess of the goddess was great and she didn’t want to mess up. But the knowledge that the elders gave to her was overwhelming. A young man came to see her yesterday and wanted help. He had been married 7 months and his wife still hadn’t conceived a child. Out of the 125 or so herbs, roots, and flowers that she was qualified to give out, she couldn’t remember which one to give. Should it be something for him, or for his wife? But as a priestess, she could not show hesitation or doubt. As he waited, with reverance and anticipation, she ground up the leaves of the blue flower that grows on the foothills of the mountains. “Give this to your wife. Tell her to take it right before the full moon. Come back in 2 months if she hasnt’ bled.” She said it confidential, but truthfully she had no clue if this was right. Though she did no that it could do no harm. Sometimes people just seemed to need hope, and that cured them just fine.

In the meantime, she seriously needed to brush up on her knowledge. When the sun went down, the tent was packed up and her and the other priestesses retired for the night. Samwa, the wisest of the older priestesses always settled down near her for the night, so she took the opportunity to ask her, “what is the herb for fertility?” Samwa had a lengthy answer, depending on any number of variables that she had neglected to ask the young man. “Does she bleed normally? At what time of month are they active? Is she taking any other herbs? She listened carefully and kept repeating the information to hersefl all night until the sun came up.

When it was light, she grabbed a stick and walked far back behind the sleeping tents. She scratched into the earth with the stick a penis. From that, she drew a line to an aster shaped flower. Under that, she drew 2 stick figures, back to back, and a line to a picture of a jagged leaf. That was for couples who weren’t in the mood. She drew 3 more pictures of marital circumstances linked with 3 pictures of different roots and flowers. Now I’ll remember! But after the first rains, she knew she needed a better solution. The men were making clay for bricks and she watched as they made patterns in it when it was wet. She stole 2 bricks and brought them back to her spot beyond the tents. When it rained, she etched her pictures in with a sharp tool.

Over the years, she continued etching her pictures, but showing no one. She become the most sought afer priestess because she retained the most knowledge. Never did she have to seek advice, never did she have a doubt. When she became an elder priestess and the season’s new devotees entered, she picked one to pass the knowledge on to. She taught her the pictures and the secret pace she kept them. When she died, her devotee taught the pictures to everyone and they created a wall of mosaics that held all the sacred knowledge that they held. Nothing now would be forgotten, nothing lost. And so it was that the written language was born.