Land of Thorns: a Tale of the Odyssey

Chapter 1: The Storm

    Today I tell you a story, a tale long lost to time. In the days after the Trojan war Odysseus was plagued by death and destruction. He longed to return home but we, the gods, would not allow it. A great number of his misfortunes and adventures were told throughout all time but some were forgotten. These tales were lost in many ways, in great fires, in the memory of loved ones, and some were never told to begin with. Today I tell you a story that no other mortal has ever heard before.
    Odysseus’s ship creaked and cracked against the pounding forces of Poseidon’s might. His rage was greater than anything I had ever seen. The men were scattered, some desperately trying to push against the blinding winds and thundering waters, others had taken to their last stock of wine, and the rest sunk to the depths. Odysseus’s bloodshot eyes looked out over the bleeding waters. He searched for something, anything. Yet nothing, or so he thought.
    For just as he turned away one of his men cried out, “Look! Look, Odysseus! A light! A light!”
    “Do you not see the lighting all around you?” Odysseus exclaimed, “What use is a light that will blind us all and scorch our hopes!”
    “No, look! It’s the light of a lamp! It’s too warm and round to be lightning. It has to be a lamp!” So Odysseus looked out unto the sea and there it was! A light. Small and soft. It bobbed up and down to a beat similar but not quite with the ocean’s rage.
    Odysseus cried, “A lamp! It is a lamp! We’re saved!” Suddenly his men weren’t so bleak. Their eyes lit up and hearts swelled beyond their chest.
    “Quickly, towards that lamp! As fast as you possibly can! Perhaps the gods have not yet forsaken us!” As fast as the lightning around them the men jumped up and began to set a course towards the soft little dot of hope. Now I am not a goddess of sea or ships and I will not pretend to be. All I know is that they moved around some ropes and did some things that made the boat move. After hours that great thing actually moved with purpose.
    As they moved the light grew brighter, too bright, almost as if the light was moving closer. Odysseus noticed this and grew ever puzzled. How, if not by ship, does a light move across water? He thought. Then, the closer they got to the light, the clearer it became. Until you could see a long, shiny, black rod attached to the light  and then you could see something else. It was huge and moved with an elegance no man or dog or ship could ever move with.
    It hit Odysseus like a bolt of lightning and he cried out, “Sea monster! Sea monster! Turn around! The light is a sea monster!” Anguish and fear washed over the crew. Their hope was gone, replaced with despair. Storms were bad enough, but this was a fate no man would wish upon even his cruelest foe.
    The creature moved with grace and agility like no other. Scylla could only dream to be as lovely, as deadly,  as this. The scales were soft, blending perfectly with the ocean’s ripple. Although no one could quite make out the shape of her, for her scales were as blue as the deepest depths and as bright as the morning sky. There were only two things that could be clearly defined, a glowing orb, which one could call a lantern, hovering just in front of her, and her eyes. Cold yet warm. Their yellow hue gazed deep into your heart and, to my knowledge, tore it clean out.
    Odysseus feared no gaze but teeth as sharp as the spear were something else entirely. Picking up his sword, whose silver sheen gleamed in thunder’s light, he made his way to the front of the ship. For a monster, unlike the rain or hail, can be killed. Rising up from the water’s shield, her great figure was finally known. And what a figure it was.
    Stumbling back, Odysseus raised his sword high and cried out. The leviathan rushed at the light, cutting away at the flesh of the vessel. His sword slashed through her neck, leaving only a small dent. Back and forth back and forth. His sword defiantly clashed against her armor. Again and again to no avail. Tired of his pathetic prick, her teeth bared into the very ground beneath his feet causing him to lose his balance and fall. Taking advantage of his decline she slashed the sails and cut the boat into two. Neither arrows, spears, nor swords could hinder the ruthless massacre. The ship was crushed to kindling and the men were lost to the sea.
    Odysseus could only watch as the waves pushed him back and forth. His vision grew poor as tears filled his eyes. There, atop a small crate, he cried as her lovely grasp slowly crept around him. Until his sight was no more and he began to drift away.