Joined: 14 Aug 2007
|Posted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 1:48 am Post subject: The Odyssey Short Story...
|Well, I think it's finally time to make my debut on The Stage. You'll find mostly short stories from me, as I'm more of a writer than a drawer. This particular one is one of my favorites that I did for English class recently. As a sort of follow-up to our unit on the Odyssey, we had to write a section of the story from the perspective of the main character. I chose a Cyclops named Polyphemus that Odysseus blinded. When reading, just bear in mind that a backround of the Odyssey would help the understanding of the story, but I think it's enjoyable enough without that background too. One bit: Noman is the pseudonym that Odysseus used when speaking to Polyphemus. Enjoy.
When Legends Fall
My eye burns. It pains me like nothing else has ever pained me before. That evil trickster Noman will be sorry that he ever dared to wound me. He will suffer the worst fate of all of those adventurer-heroes, and I will eat him slowly and painfully, starting with his feet and legs, then moving to his arms, then his torso, leaving his heart and head for last, so he lives through the whole thing…
But I ramble. I must make sure Noman and his crew do not escape. They may have blinded me, but they have not defeated me. Not yet. They will each suffer pain twice as bad as the pain they inflicted on me. The sun is now rising; I feel its heat on my body. My first day as a blind Cyclops. I am – was – the greatest and strongest Cyclops of all. Now I’m a mere cripple.
It is time to let the sheep and goats out of this cave and onto the land so they can feed on the grass and get big and woolly and fat, and produce much milk. I go back into the cave, my arms outstretched to prevent any of the adventurer-heroes from escaping. They must stay here. I feel for the sheep, each as they walk by. They seem to go in groups of three today. Interesting. This is strange behavior for them. I hope that that Noman is not planning anything…
I sit back down in the mouth of the cave, lost in thought. How could I have been so stupid? Never trust Greeks, especially the adventurer types. Always thinking for themselves, and never for anyone else. I’ll still eat them, though, every last one. They have not saved themselves from the mighty Polyphemus. Speaking of which, I am hungry. I will go punish a couple of them now.
I grope around the cave for a bit, feeling along the walls and the floor and even the ceiling. Nothing is too hard or too unlikely for these men. I feel nothing. Just bare stone and rocks. Where could they be? They couldn’t have gone anywhere… Where are they? I stop and listen carefully. One minute passes, two minutes pass, five…nothing. Complete silence. Then I hear a shout from somewhere outside the cave. I run outside to better hear:
“So, Cyclops, it turns out it wasn’t a coward whose men you murdered and ate in your cave, you savage! But you got yours in the end, didn’t you? You had the gall to eat the guests in your own house, and Zeus made you pay for it.”
I give a furious roar and grab a large rock in the cliff by the side of my cave. Ripping it out of the surrounding stone, I heave it in the direction of the voice. The nerve of those men! They deserve nothing more that to die at the hands of Poseidon! I hear shouts from the direction I threw the stone in. Good. Hopefully they all died. I sit there seething for five minutes, when I hear the same voice, that Noman, shouting again from the same direction, though twice as distant:
“Cyclops, if anyone, any mortal man, asks you how you got your eye put our, tell him that Odysseus the marauder did it, son of Laertes, whose home is on Ithaca.”
Red with fury, I scream back:
“Oh no! Now it’s coming to me, the old prophecy. There was a seer here once, a tall handsome man, Telemos Eurymides. He prophesied well all his life to the Cyclopes. He told me that all this would happen some day, that I would lose my sight at Odysseus’ hands. I always expected a great hero would come here, strong as he can be. Now this puny, good-for-nothing runt has put my eye out – because he got me drunk. But come here, Odysseus, so I can give you a gift, and ask Poseidon to help you on your way. I’m his son, you know. He claims he’s my father. He will heal me, if he wants. But none of the other gods will, and no mortal man will.”
Then I pray to Poseidon that this Odysseus will never get back home to Ithaca. If he must, then make him come late, with no crew left, in a different ship, to trouble at home. Poseidon heard me, and then I take both hands and take a rock three times as large and as heavy as the first one, I rip it out of the cliff, and I launch it towards the voice. I hear a splash. I missed.
With a roar, I spin and smash my fist with all my strength into the cliff. My entire mountain shakes, and loose rocks fall. Then I stumble back into my cave, sitting just under the shelter of the outcrop. I was the best Cyclops, a living legend. I was stronger than any of the others. I won every contest and was looked up to and admired because of my strength.
Oh: I got an A+ on the paper, too.
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