The village's people stood at the temple 
watching the stranger enter in.
She was tall and lanky,
a bit cranky and never a
conversation begin.
A ram white carried her through the night 
and delivered her at the door
of the only hostel in the town,
a place ragged and worn.

Her hair was wild in waves of curls
golden and out of control.
She never cares for what she wears
and gives her look no mind at all.
With red scarves flowing and black eyes knowing,
she had the look of a witch.
The people there just grumbled and stared
as she passed them by riding the ditch.

For they filled the streets 
and never missed a beat as they taunted
and spewed their vileness.
But she was aloof, not reacting to the group
as she held her head open veil-less.
Once she entered in the shabby inn,
she rested herself upon the bed.
And there she prayed for those who stayed
outside the Hostel Dead.

She lit the candles and made the bangles
whose colors were carefully handled.
For therein lies the power of her eyes
as they reflected the flames of the spirits.
Her chants were low and began slow
until the flames grew higher and brighter.
And in the end she had began
the sorcery of the spider.

In the town were screams and sounds
of those eaten by arachnids.
Some were wrapped and hoarded kept
And then sucked of all their fluids.
The village was webbed and cocoon fed
by the entities of crawling legends.
It was quite a feat as she truly complete
the visions of the ancient pagans.