Washed Away

The peoples of this planet tell their stories in different styles, but their flood myths tend to follow much the same acts.

A furious downpour ran on for many days, black surf hiding ramparts and rooftops, but an ark sat high amid rolling foam.

At last the flood consumed the highest spire, but Anreh's ship was free above the walls.

At sundown, six black gulls cut inland; politicians did nothing but watch and laugh.

In a distant woodland, artisans cut firs and bound broad planks into an ark with a soaring prow.

In each home in town, the folk piled gold, grain, and carved stone, and mocked Midge, who kept but one plain cloak.

In Orvys’s city, officials struck old words from maps and songs, insisting that what was said was not so.

In the city, every gift was matched and every slight was repaid in kind, so children bore their parents’ debts, and called the reckoning refined.

Igueh quickly left the valley for the forest, where they axed many trees to build a sizeable ship for the journey.

Leaving the city for the forest, they worked hard to fell the trees to ground, then build a great ship with every joint bound.

Six black gulls flew inland and circled back toward the bay, so Tavur said the sea would return what the city had sent away.

The city chose a place and part for each, and told each child the trade they must pursue, and cast beyond its walls all hearts that strayed.

The flood rose past the walls and drowned the town, while chests sank deep in the waves.

The water gone, they built the city new, they left each door unbarred, each road unnamed, no laws to dictate future's course again.

They felled the trees that climbed the valleyside, then bound the beams and built a sailing ship.

Though the walls stood too low and floodwaters swept past, the ship just kept climbing higher, beyond the drowned towers, while quick waves vexed its hull toward the horizon.

When the flood quieted, the survivors zealously followed the city's example, joining in the work of rebuilding.

When dry land rose, they chose to build low homes, to share the fields, and to keep just what they could tend.

When six black gulls flew from the sea at dusk, the town chiefs did naught but laugh.

When six black gulls flew in, the city’s magisters watched quietly, for nothing could jeopardize so diverse a realm.

When the water withdrew, the survivors found their ledgers blurred gray, so they let their old debts wash away.