Silence(d)

We found a tattered quilt crumpled up in our cottage attic when renovating last summer; I'm not sure how it got there—it seemed to be stuffed in an area where the roof often leaks—but to me, this careless dismissal of someone's painstaking handiwork shocked me with feelings of powerlessness to save and preserve something precious. In conjunction with the buckets of rusty nails we were extracting from the weathered wood all around, its ragged edges were evocative of endurance despite miserable conditions. The idea of an untold story evoked an image of Scheherazade and her predecessors; I saw a silent parade of women who suffer through oppression and domestic violence... often without speaking a word.

I just googled Scheherazade (mostly with an eye to finding out how to spell it) and discovered that, according to Wikipedia, one of the meanings of the name apparently includes "she whose realm or dominion is free." But apparently 1001 stories are not enough for universal salvation...