The thing, the pull that should have pulled me away from the threads was an event not of my making and not of Timis making either, this was a ninth grader in Timis school a boy whose actions should have pulled me from the threads no matter how engrossed I was but it did not and Timis descent into madness quickened.
What had happened was a thing that would take me years to learn of and years to forgive myself for, I learnt many years later from a diary Timi wrote before the unfortunate fate that made me drop the spool of dark purple thread, the ninth grader was not the most caring of persons nor the most psychological aware person you would meet in a room with him and a random person from the street, it was a joke he said, a dare he told the police but young Timis fragile mind snapped when the boy stood above her in the night and told her a bunch of words that shan't be repeated in civilized company, I say so because these words are unknown even to me but whatever he said he regretted for the rest of his live.
The fire that always shimmered in the back of Timis eyes suddenly came covering the iris and a child's frightened face changed to a predators smirk as the boy was found traumatized and bloody missing a certain, let's call it a limb and the boy since that day seemed torn between running and kneeling every time he saw her through the corridors and soon others learned why. The school psychiatrist diagnosed her with PTSD, Psychopathy, Schizophrenia but not Adhd or dyslexia which most demigods had, I suppose considering the others it wasn't very important but Timi had in fact neither she was a book lover and didn't like moving around much but as the students began to fear her and her fate changed I was left stumped with what to do I didn't know if this mad young girl could truly save the world.
So my attention turned to the far to long string of light nearly white blue, Timi needed a mentor and who better then the mother of feminism and so the threads connected and I wove a tapestry of colors and the black thread of Hades and the river lethe was not included Mary Wollstonecraft would have the memory's of her former self and the disgrace her husband did to her and the failure of her daughters both her real one and her metaphorical one at the hands of men but she would mentor and nurture the young girl. I still wasn't sure of the imminent fate of mankind but I knew that womenkind would be safe. But I have a job and other threads await weaving and measuring and alloting their rightful place in the world it was a hard eternal job but it was my job no matter how many a mad thread slipped through
I have done many bad things I have made people do a lot of bad things but I have saved the world and given you everything you have good and bad and now also the tale of my masterpiece. So I ask for one simple thing think, analyze don't believe everything you see and hear and don't trust history books they are written by the winners and for God's sake don't blame me, I don't hate you.
A/N I meant that last sentence and does anyone know the narrator or Timis mother or whom Mary Wollstonecraft is please comment or pm me thanks for reading, commenting, following and favouriting please note I am not good with social taboos I may write a lot of things people consider unmentionable or at least uncomfortable accept it or don't read I am not going to warn you this will be mad and bloody and include a lot of cranky women on their period especially when I am on my period so live with it or stop reading.