The Infidel's Tale

This is an added on Canturberry tales. are there bad word choices? does it make sense? does the little lessons the author wants to get through show? feedback would be greatly appreciated, especially on whether or not it makes sense. thanks! im gonna make three posts because its too long...

The Infidel’s Tale

Part I
In a dark, wet, hypothetical corner of Monte Carlo met one day,
By pure chance, a nun, a wife, and a lady holding a tea tray.
That stately lady with hair of steel and a ten-layered velvet dress,
Ran into the nun selling her embroidery, and made a horrifying mess.
The nun, dressed in filthy linens, was quarreling with a poor wife,
About the price of her embroidery, the fruits of her chaste life.
Now that her embroideries fell into a puddle and were completely destroyed,
Her face became ruddy with angry excitement, as if she were overjoyed.
The bickering between the wife and she instantly adjourned;
Towards the stately lady, her vengeful motherly anger turned.
The nun swore, cursed, and said many other unholy words,
Which all stampeded out of her mouth to attack the lady in herds.
That proper, stately, lady, having never heard such vulgar, ungodly language,
Was shocked and cried out a shrill cry, as if in deep, unworldly, anguish.
When she finally grasped the meaning of the nun’s foul reprimands,
She fell to her knees to beg for forgiveness and do whatever the nun demands,
Just like a good, meek, wife should, under the command of her power-greedy spouse.
And such a spouse never fails to take advantage of his spouse, meek as a mouse.
Like a husband, the nun told the lady to pay in gold for the goods she destroyed,
And said that only then would her sin be made completely void.
Hearing this, the lady was ecstatic; she was overjoyed,
For mass amounts of wealth, she and her husband enjoyed.
Gladly, she paid off her debt and compensated for her sin,
But that greedy nun enforced upon her a feeling of chagrin.
So, she offered more of her wealth, to annihilate her shame,
And the nun accepted it, being in full control of the game.
She was not so wroth anymore for she has made quite a profit,
So she asked the stately lady what was the cause of her clumsy-flit.
The steel haired lady, surprised at such an amicable request,
To tell the story of her husband and her life’s unrest,
Told her tale with great pleasure, although she was not typically disloyal,
And revealed all her husband’s secrets and misdeeds, being anything but loyal.

Part II
Not so long ago, her hair was of gold and her dress of silk.
Her skin was ruddy and tanned; now, it is the color of milk.
She, and all her fair, damsel friends would flit in the moonlight,
And pick junipers, lilies, and other flowers of chastity, to their heart’s delight.
I guess she was somewhat of a tomboy – she could climb trees as well as her brother.
She could set traps, ride horses, and hunt as well as any other.
She was free from vows, loved life, youth, and got the best of both.
She dreaded nothing more than taking the marriage oath.

Life was hard on her one day, and by chance, doom befell on her one night,
When a lusty man of twenty-four spied on her as she danced in the moonlight.
This damsel saw movement behind a bush and suspected that she was being spied upon.
She prayed to Artemis to turn the trespasser into a hideous black swan.
It just so happens that that day, or perhaps every day,
Artemis was not answering prayers, out of service, or just away.
When the time was right, the lusty, drunken man came,
To her and seized this beautiful, lovely, innocent dame.
What he did to her, forced upon her that night, I shall not describe.
It was so loathsome, so vile, that to language it does not transcribe.
Full of shame, the poor girl went home, limping, half lame.
To no one, friend or kin, did she dare to betray her wretched shame.
When asked what was the cause of her lameness and depression,
She simply lowered her head, unwilling to reveal the truth about the repression.
On many occasions, tears would fall from those beautiful eyes,
As she stared blankly into the vast, empty, skies.
Often, she wished to be a part of the sky, the void, the encompassing whole,
So that her existence, would cease to torment her so.
She wished that God’s angels would carry her up into the clouds,
Where her non-mortal body would be wrapped in shrouds.
However, no angels paid her visits during these hard, miserable, days,
And slowly, she started to go into a violent craze.

Finally, deciding to end these miserable days herself,
She went to seek guidance from books on the shelf.
Drowning, she decided, was the most peaceful way of death,
So that night, she jumped into the sea and held her breath.
Death that night did not go so well for her.
For that lustful man has been spying again, after ten pints of liqueur.
He saw his love and pleasure, sink beneath a peaceful wave,
To where would have been, her final grave.
He panicked, and rushed out to save this lovely thing,
So that one day, he may hear her, to him, willingly sing.
He dragged her body on to the bay,
Where she and he peacefully slept until the day.

The dame has still not awoken yet, though she was alive,
So the young man carried her – To her house, they arrived.
He told the father of how his daughter almost drowned and how he saved her,
And that he intended to wed this lovely thing and asked if he would concur.
The father, being so grateful of the young man’s heroic deed,
Said “yay” to the wedding and was glad that he had one less mouth to feed.
It was a perfect match, for the young man demanded a dowry incredibly small,
And was wealthy, a respectable earl, and owned a gigantic hall.
They planned the wedding for the very next week,
Giving barely enough time to prepare for the feast.
The young lady awoke later that day looking ill and gray,
So her father told her of the happy news, hoping to make her gay.
He told her that she is betrothed to a rich man, handsome and young,
And that the wedding and all the festivities in two weeks would be done.
This news did not make the young lady happier in the least,
For although she cared not for her life, she wished to be no man's beast.
"That night must never reoccur, and no one must abuse my sexuality.
For as long as I live, I will be my own master," thought she.
She asked her father if the marriage could be cancelled,
But the inquiry angered her father and made him befuddled.
“What more can you want from a man? He’s rich, handsome, and young!
I shall not allow you to become a spinster, unless you wish to become a nun.
Gold rarely falls from the sky so take advantage of it when it does.
Such a man rarely comes about so make this wedding as jolly as any ever was.”
He bellowed about the ingratitude of his daughter and the irrationality of her implore
And about how she’s been spoiled senseless and much much more.
The man was a good father and wanted the best for his child,
So that night, he rethought the situation and what to do with his daughter so wild.
Finally, he decided that if she refuses marriage, she would join a convent.
The next morning, he asked his ill daughter what was her judgment.
Both marriage and nunnery seemed bad choices to that girl
Who wanted to be her own master, not subject God, man, or earl.
This she told her father who became furious again,
And decided that she will wed the next week, that rich young man.

The young lady had to agree for she could do nothing more,
But to see the man she will wed, to check him out, was her last implore.
To this, her father agreed. Thus, he sent for the groom that very moment.
When the young lady saw him, she was filled with abhorrment,
For his self-important stature, wantonness, and drunkenness,
Reminded her of the man who had raped her long ago in the darkness.
Being able to do nothing, the lady subjugated herself to him
And did all he ordered and commanded, be it planned or whim
She soon became known as a respectable lady, wife of the earl,
For she became mild, meek, pious, and tame, unlike the tom girl.
Mornings, she would listen to him praise God and Christ and quote the bible.
Afternoons, she would serve wine while he and his friends would drink and gamble.
Nights, she would suffer through his lechery, enduring every minute of this pain.
God never helped her one bit though all this, and her faith in Him began to wane.
As her faith waned, so did her hope for salvation.
She has waited and waited but was overwhelmed by frustration,
For eight years she waited, while her hair grayed to steel
She was no more than twenty-four years old, yet her looks had no appeal.
More and more impatient and angry, her husband became,
For she was no longer that beautiful, sexy, dame,
Cursing her life, she decided to wait no longer,
And ran out the door to wherever fate may bring her.

Part III
Of all this that stately lady told: her pains, troubles, and many much more.
But I won’t bore you to death, for you have heard this before.
“How I hate men, how I hate life!
How I hated being a wife!
I want to be free, yet I am trapped
In this holy wedlock I am wrapped.
Today, I shall drown at sea,
And for the rest of life be free,
When I go for a sail,”
She wailed.

At this point in the lady’s lengthy monologue the wife interrupted,
For she was afraid that her suicidal plot would succeed if left undisrupted.
This wife was a wife to three though the church only allowed one.
But what is done is done, and with all three she has done.
She very much enjoyed being a wife
And squeezed all the fun she could out of her life.
For the twenty-five years, she has been doing her trade,
She became no less sexy, no more old, and not one gray hair was made.
She said, “Child, listen to my story, where you will find wisdom to gain.
Afterwards, your view would be changed, and to live, you shall fain.
I am married to three, and with all three I have fun.
Yet none dares to boss me around, no, not one.
One morning, one came to me and asked me to get him a beer.
A beer I did get him, but I dumped it on his rear.
Being too drunk to notice, he walked around with soaking pants
Dripping yellow liquid the whole way, offending the plants.
“Had one too many beers? Couldn’t hold it?” taunted some passerbys,
Completely oblivious of his trousers, he hollered at them to die.
I was so amused that I just had to point out the wetness,
And watching his face turn beet red from embarrassment was joyous.
Well, I’m a pretty bad lady, I’ll admit,
I may lack morals but one thing I lack not is wit.
Religion disintegrates when reason is used and proof is sought for,
Reason and rational thinking turns the Bible into plain folklore.
God doesn’t exist, all the better for us,
We need not worry about hell and can give freely into lust.
So my child, you may ask what the lesson might be,
Let it be to make the best of life and that you are already free.
Depend on no God, no one but yourself, to unlock,
And trust me, you DO have the power to unlock the wedlock.”

The lady now replied, “I have tried, but it worked not.”
And the wife answered, “I know, but never leave a winning battle half fought.”

The lady now had her mind set upon a divorce,
But if separation, upon her husband she could not force,
She decided that she will simply run away and lead a life free,
Free from sexual oppression, free from religious obligation, simply free.

The nun, greatly moved by the tales gave the lady all her money back.
Regretful and ashamed of her deed, she cried out, “alack!”
“Well, all ends well for our lady so dear.
This is all God’s doing, salvation is finally here.”
In unison, the wife and the lady replied, “no,
After all, this is the great gambling city of Monte Carlo.
It’s pure chance that caused us to meet,
On this hypothetical corner of this street
It’s chance that caused all of this
Unlike God, it’s capable of causing sorrow as well as bliss.”
And the lady said, “I’ve had my fair share of sorrow,
Now it’s time for bliss – bliss of my own; there’s no need to borrow.”
And the wife said, “My child, you learned well.
The two things that can change life are chance and will.”

Epilogue
The Pardoner asked, “Why do you tell of this blasphemy on our holy pilgrimage?
Cursed be the one who dares to curse God, and cursed be his lineage.”
“Ah, but did I curse God?” The infidel replied,
“Wasn’t the nun, faithful to God, saved? Or have I lied?
Was she not saved from her greed and sin?
Did she not give God credit for her salvation?”
If you are truly faithful to the Lord,
Be the nun and let this story make your faith restored
Let this story strengthen your faith…
Now, merry gathering, let us proceed onto the tale of the teller eighth.”



THE END...

... OMG I AM SOO SORRY!!! I AM NOT MIR!!! I THOUGHT IT WAS LOGGED ON TO MY OWN ACCOUNT BUT IT WASNT!!! I AM NOT MIR!!! SHE JUST BORROWED MY LAPTOP AND FORGOT TO LOG OUT AND I DONT PAY ATTENTION TO THESE THINGS!!! SOOOO SORRY!!!@!@#@#!@#@#@!!!!

*runs away and creates own account because forgets her previous username*

again, im so sorry. I'm absentminded and... why am I still typing as mir?

Ok, I am soo sorry. I'm sheep, not mir. I just assumed that I was logged on as myself. (i usually am!)

calm down, sheep - I'd be glad to write a story like that! now you stopped me from stealing the credit! : )