In the dark and dingy depths of the Leake Street tunnel we, the Knit the City Yarn Corps, lost our Web of Woe not 24 hours after it was so carefully installed.
When the wounds were less fresh and the scars were beginning to heal four brave members of the Yarn Corps returned to the site to remember. For the remaining two it was still too painful.
We came to stand sorrowfully staring at the gaping 13-foot space where our Web of Woe was once weaved, to hold a silence for the 44 handstitched beasts who are gone we know not where, and place to our Memorial of Melancholy.
Each of us made our offering:
Web of Woe and all your creatures, whereever you are your horrifying scenes of death, entrapment, and sweary butterflies will live on in the pages of this blog and in the hearts of those who witnessed your woolly woeful wonder.
If you have any information on the whereabouts of our Web of Woe beasts or parts of the Memorial of Melancholy, which subsequently went missing days later, please pass on your information to our one of our spy pigeons. Any information leading to an arrest or at least a good hard pinch, will result in cake.
For the inside story from Yarn Corps members see:
Deadly Knitshade’s The Ghostmouse’s Story: a tiny tale of sinister skelemouse shivers