Intermediate Creative Writing ENGL 3140 Miro Penkov Story Two

Intermediate Creative Writing
ENGL 3140
Miro Penkov
Story Two
Worksheet 2
Read for AprilS, 2012
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William Winham
ENGL 3140
Miroslav Penkov
3115/2011
Ariadne
When I was a girl, before my father tore our family apart, he had a dancing path
made for me in the surrounding countryside. He sent for Daedalus, a master craftsman
and inventor, to come from Athens to our island home of Crete. Daedalus answered the
call, for my father was a king and a man who could not be refused. My father, King
Minos of Knossos, commissioned a maze to somehow arise from the fields of wild
poppies and spring flowers, and Daedalus completed the task without any further
instruction. Through the long, sleepy Spring, I danced in the verdant corridors, in the
light of the seabound sun, with red poppies like watchful eyes following my steps.
I grew to know my father only as a hard man. None ofthe dances I performed for
him or the gifts of cream and lavender-colored orchids I brought him, the petals of which
resembled little, hanging men, relaxed his features or his mood. I once heard my mother,
Pasiphae, mention a brother who I had never met. She said he was the cause of all this,
but when my father struck her, I assumed she was lying. She had, after all, created my
real brother, the monster everyone knew about but no one had seen, save her and my
father. They never named him, but soon after his birth, my father called upon Daedalus
again to build another maze. This time, the corridors were constructed of smooth,
emerald marble rather than the untidy green and brown of the earth. He made a prison for
my brother, my brother the Minotaur.
Before my father became a king, he asked the sea god Poseidon to send him a
sign of favor. Poseidon sent a beautiful, white bull for Minos to sacrifice in his name, but,
in awe of its beauty, Minos kept the bull for himself. For this, we all were punished.
Poseidon enlisted Aphrodite's help and made my mother lust after the beautiful bull.
Again, a member of our family turned to the ever-faithful Daedalus for solutions, this
time in secrecy. He fashioned a wooden cow's body for my mother to hide within, and,
with it, she exacted Poseidon's revenge upon my father. During her pregnancy, loyal
Daedalus set to work on the marble labyrinth that would be my brother's prison. In nine
months, Pasiphae bore a son, half-human and half-bull. My father walked the nine miles
eastward to the labyrinth with a fistful of my brother's coarse hair in his hand, and from
our hillside home, I heard two voices crying out in unison as their single silhouette
blended with the surrounding night. The sounds were more animal than man.
Every seven years, we received the black-sailed ship from Athens in our harbor.
We dragged the blood-price for the death of King Minos' first born, seven boys and
seven girls, from the ship to my brother's prison and sealed the door behind them. As
soon as the stone slid to, no sound escaped from within. That was when the dreams
started. I dreamt I was one of the women aboard that black, Athenian ship, handpicked
for sacrifice and sent by King Aegeas. I knew none of the others' names, but this didn't
matter because we knew one another's fear, and that was enough. I traced the black mast
skyward with my eyes, heard the wind snap and rustle the full, black sail. Then the
lashings snapped. The sail came hurtling down to cover me, to suffocate me in its
darkness. At least twice a month, I awoke gasping for air. During these mostly sleepless
nights, my only consolation was my brother's happiness-seven years was a long time to
go without a meal.
This continued for twenty-one years. A darkness fell upon our household. My
mother and I counted the lives given to my brother, forty-two to date, and held vigils for
their souls. We would have gone to retrieve the bones to perform proper burial rites, but
neither of us knew if we would corne out alive. My father insisted on taking watch atop
the ramparts of Knossos, convinced Aegeas was preparing a war against him. Long after
our hoplites re-racked their spears and brazen armor in lieu of sleep, my father stood
facing north, toward Athens. During the third sarifice, a man-not a sinewy-looking
virgin like the others, but a real man-stepped off of the Athenian death vessel with a
smile on his face. He squinted toward the labyrinth in the east, and I remember distinctly,
under his hay-brown beard, I saw a flash of teeth. He was unlike any man I had ever seen.
He seemed to draw from an interminable wellspring of youth, his muscles polished and
sun-smoothed, his face unmarred by worry or by defeat. Even before he asked, the
answer was yes. Always, yes.
Our custom dictated that we give those to be sacrificed another night to eat and
drink and rest before their last morning in this world. Wherever this custom came from,
be it the latent protocols of hospitality or for our own peace of mind, I'm sure my brother
appreciated the extra touch. When night cast its shadow on our city, the man from the
ship, armed with that boyish smile I had seen before, approached me on the way to the
garden of my dancing-maze. He said my father's guards were easily distracted, that he
came to tell me his story, and to ask something of me. He said he had two fathers, the sea
," god Poseidon, and Aegeas, the king of Athens. Neither stayed to see his birth. However,
Aegeas, before he returned to Athens, found a shaded grove of olive trees, and therein
buried his sandals and his sword. With his great strength, he upturned a nearby boulder
and moved atop the same spot. He then told Theseus' mother that if she were to have a
boy, and for that boy to grow up strong and heroic, that she would show him their
location and allow him to use them to collect his royal birthright in Athens. Theseus
proved stronger than anyone could have imagined. With time, he grew into the
approximate man before me, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he spoke of himself.
She led him to the place where Aegeas buried his sword and sandals, and with ease,
Theseus hefted the thing and retrieved his inheritance.
Not a year before we met, he struck a course toward Athens, and, impatient to win
his glory, he chose to walk the dangerous roads alone rather than sail directly. On his
way, Theseus came upon six entrances to the underworld, each inhabited by a bandit or
monster. Rather poetically, he thought, he killed them in the manner in which they killed
their victims, winning him the fame and glory he sought. He arrived in Athens a hero,
and when he unsheathed his sword before the king, Aegeas welcomed Theseus into his
arms as his son and heir. The celebration was soon halted, for he arrived yesterday, and
today marked the third sacrificial offering to King Minos of Crete. Ever in search of
glory, Theseus offered to slay this Minotaur and return on the same boat, instead hoisting
a white sail so Aegeas would know of his son's safe return. And that brought him here,
with me, in the overgrown garden of my youth, seeking the green and forgotten heart.
How I devoured his story, how I craved that white sail and the life-breath it promised. I
looked up and squinted into the dark, trying to gain our bearings. The hedges had grown
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in to meet each other above the pathways, and the red eyes of poppy flowers clung
everywhere along the walls in sleep, blue-grey and earth-gazing. Before he asked, I
offered my help, on one condition: that he take me away from this island on black ship
with the white sail. He nodded in approval, smiling all the while.
As with all family business matters, I sought the assistance of Daedalus. I needed
a way to ensure Theseus' success, no matter the cost. The solution was deceptively
simple: a ball ofthread, a single, red vein tied to the door, leading Theseus back to life.
The next morning, my mother and I watched as the hoplites led six men, seven women,
and Theseus to the labyrinth. We watched as they slid the granite slab into place. Then
there was no sound but my own breathing, each exhalation a prayer to another god. Be
his guide. Protect him. Don't let him fail. Please, let the kill be quick. Don't make him
suffer. I never want to hear those cries again.
That night my father stood atop the ramparts as he did every night, shrinking
within his clothes and greying without grace, his eyes trained northward for any sign of
his own oblivion. My mother gathered the oils, linens, and fourteen candles for tonight's
vigil, in hopes that busying her fingers might tame her restless thoughts. I walked along
the miles of labyrinth wall, pressed my palms into its cool, stone casing. I felt for weak
spots and secret hinges. I touched every inch I could reach, leaving ghosted prints of my
fingertips as I passed. I searched for any way in but the door-it had, until now, been an
omega point, a point from which no future could emerge. I gave Theseus until the
morning light to come back from beyond the omega point. But the future was something
different entirely, and as the morning light came, Theseus emerged from the labyrinth,
~'
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surrounded by the Athenians, clutching the severed head of a bull by the coarse hair on
its scalp, asking me to marry him.
Without ceremony, we boarded the Athenian vessel, cut its dock lines, and cast
off for Athens. I saw my father atop the city's ramparts, ever-harkened to the north, and
wondered if his eyes could still see. We set sail north, and Theseus held the bull's head
up to the heavens to let Aeolus, the ruler of winds, taste of its blood and fill the dark sail
with a formidable gust of wind. We sailed for half the day and came upon a small island,
all sand and no shade for all we could see. We planned to find water somewhere inland,
but I was not hopeful. We did, however, find shade underneath a copse of palms, and
here, in the heat of day, I slept peacefully for the first and last times of my life.
I dreamt I was on the black boat, with the white sail hoisted. The others looked
calm; they stared ahead, northward, with cheerful expectancy in their eyes. My father
stood on the prow of the ship, looking back to me without the familiar tension in his face.
He practically glowed at Theseus, called him son-Androgeus--praised him for his
physical prowess, talked of his inheritance, imparted methods for dealing with women.
Theseus laughed and flashed his teeth, happy to play along.
When I awoke, Theseus had gone. His black sail hugged the northern horizon. He
must have forgotten, in his hurry, to replace it with the white. What choice did I have, but
to wait? From the beach, I could see the white columns of Athens' Acropolis, shining in
the sun above the black sail of Theseus' ship. And for a moment, I thought I saw the
figure of an aging man, his body facing south toward Crete. The sun caught an object on
his head, gold like a crown, which glinted as the figure dove from the Acropolis' perch to
the sea below. Soon I knew that Aegeas, the king of Athens, was dead.
Now, the sun is sleepless. The only place I've known for years, so many years
I've lost count, is nothing but sand and unrelenting sun, floating in what would forever be
called the Aegean Sea. Naxos, where he left me, where eternity began for me-all for my
love of him. No matter. I should have known what the Fates can weave with one ball of
thread.
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William Winham - Myth Summary
Minos, the powerful ruler of Crete, lost his only son Androgeus while the boy was in
Athens. In revenge, King Minos vowed to destroy Athens unless every year seven maidens and
seven men were sent to Crete. These sacrificial youth would be fed to the Minotaur, a monster,
half-bull and half-human, who lived inside a labyrinth. Theseus comes forward to be offered as
one of the victims. Ariadne, Minos' daughter, sees and instantly falls in love with Theseus. She
confers with Daedalus the architect to devise a plan for her beloved to stay safe. Theseus follows
Ariadne's plan, walking through the maze as he lets run a ball of string so he can retrace his
steps. Theseus finds the Minotaur sleeping and kills it with his bare hands. Theseus, Ariadne, and
the other Athenian youth all escape to the ship going back to Athens. Theseus, for one reason or
another, deserts her on an island, and later forgets to raise the white sail. His father, King Aegeas
of Athens, seeing the black sail, assumes his son has died and jumps into the sea. The sea has
been called the Aegean ever since.
1
Meili Chao
ENGL3140-003
Miroslav Penkov
3115112
Story #2
Crimson
I.
The man lay sprawled across the rocks. His back burnt near crimson from yesterday's
sun. He must have turned onto his stomach to cushion the rocks. I sat watching him from the
ledge. My gentle hands supported my upper body while my tan legs warmed in the care of the
sun. I looked to the ground, enveloped in flowers. I took my hands from beneath me and choked
the bottoms of them to unroot a handful. Tossed 'em in my lap and began to pluck the petals.
First I plucked all the baby white ones, as I;':fl$y pinching a baby. Then the purple, effortless.
Eventually left with nothing but the brown stained roots I began plucking, maybe more like
ripping those off. Nonetheless, plucking them much like my sister had plucked this man, right off
his own ship... his home. Left it, left it all for her.
The next few days are uneventful. No ships. No ships means more time with my sisters,
Aglaope and Peisino. I awake earlier than they do-ready to start the day and my lessons in voice,
or in Aglaope's case, the godforsaken flute. Wretched thing, unnatural is what it is. With straight
long hair the color of those flower roots, Aglaope whips it back to tell me
"Fingers like this," and shriek "loosen up Rai!"
Rai, for Raidne. Not as if that's any less obnoxious. It's nothing like Peisino. Peissssino.
My oldest sister is as sultry and seductive as her name. Peisino can call in a speck of dust on the
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ocean that increases in size until it's fonned into a ship. Peisino's waves of hair, with the
brilliance of the sun, part perfectly to frame her golden skin. Her eyes are the color of the deepest
part of the ocean, parts most never see. And when her melon lips open, something descends to
your ears that makes you positive you've never heard music before. Your body is light and it
needn't move. Only your heartbeat insists you're still alive. I want that.
Peisino and Aglaope lie out on the sand part of the island. Asking the sun for another hit.
I hurry to join them, kicking up some sand on last step. Aglaope snaps at me, and I speak over
her to quiz Peisino and what it's like to have men stare at her. A burly man approaches us. Some
call him Achelous. I call him dad. I run to him.
"Dad!" He picks me up like I'm five, though I'm ten years the senior, and smiles into me
as ifI'm the sun.
"I've missed you little Rai." Light as a feather, puts me down and turns to my sisters with
an ann for each. After reunion, father says he's starving. We all laugh. Not one.ofus.ne.eds.to. :.
eat, we simply do it to feel human. I skip and fetch us a snack in the green.
An hour later, I return to them circled around a tree stump. I toss my collection on to the
round dinner table. Red berries roll in all directions and bundle of leaves from an enigmatic tree
make the stump look whole again. Aglaope rolls some leaves around in her mouth and father
tosses back some berries. Peisino comments on the weather.
"A beautiful day for sailing," she says and flashes a smile at me.
I immediately return it.
"Yes, a perfect day for sailing," I respond.
A perfect day, I ponder. Maybe also the perfect day for me to mature, and I stand.
"Dad. I'm ready," I say assured.
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Aglaope rolls her eyes.
"Don't start Rai," she says readily fired up. My dad rests a hand on her ann.
"Rai, its not time." He says. "You can sing for me." He wears that smile again.
"Hey you know what happens when they don't come in Rai?" she starts again.
"You die."
Not one of her words are attempting to soften for my content. Peisino interjects.
"Agla," she scowls. Freezing her face, she glares at her with reprimanding eyes.
"Well she needs to know," Aglaope continues. "Do you remember Thelxiepeia?"
I shake my head heatedly, emulating Peisino's expression.
"No? She was our sister. Your sister too, had Aphrodite not saved that damned sailor."
She moves on, "Anyways, it's not like it's even an option."
Then she raises a stiff eyebrow to point at my bare back. My face and confidence sag. I
tum to look behind Peisino. My eyes graze her white satin wings, fully developed and cultivated
by the gods to looked at in a hypnotic awe. My sisters sleep on their stomach, much like the man
on the shore. I, still an infant, welcome sleep staring up at the sky ... at all that could be.
II.
Weeks have passed now, evaporated into the sun. Nothing. For a time, the
crimson man kept me company. After the morning I found him, I visited every sunrise. I'd judge
the aftereffects of another day of sacrifice, picking flowers for him, asking him what it was like
to be in love. I imagined him a captain- commanding a ship to sail in any direction that pleased
him that moment. I imagined my bare body perched on a rock. My hair mimicking the mixed
colors of the sand, playfully positioned over my breasts. I begin to sing to him and he stops what
(
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he's doing. He searches for the direction ofthe music, and asks a fellow sailor ifit is angels he
hears. His eyes scan the waters and suddenly land on me. My voice does not falter. I sing until
he's jumped off the ship and swam cross the ocean to reside at my feet.
Every day I played through this scene. Every day he'd swim to me and end up in the rocks
looking endearingly up at me. Then I'd toss the petals at him and leave.
It was during one of our visits that the idea planted its seed. And in each visit, I was
reassured. The idea bloomed and blossomed into a well formulated plan, that went as far as any
plan goes, until instinct kicks in and covers the rest.
My lessons carried on without glitch. I practiced singing constantly, running melodic
drills and reciting lyrical lines of poetry. I wrote some of my own lyrics with Crimson-who had
ripened to a charcoal by that time.
I even started to practice the flute. Not liking it persay. Just practicing, the whole time I
was attempting to formulate melodies for the poetry Crimson and I wrote.
My wings still hadn't come in. But I didn't mind that, the plan did not require them.
Then the day came. I was criss-crossed visiting Crimson, enjoying the part where he
searches for my voice, and his eyes meet mine. That's when I saw it. A dot so small, it seemed as
though the sun had a loose eyelash. I pressed my eyelids down to rest them from the abrasive
winds. Opened them and saw the eyelash had grown into petal. I heard my father's hom to siren
my sisters and could envision them rising from their intoxicating sun bath to hurriedly meet him.
I'd have to beat them.
I ditched Crimson and ran towards the wind. I was going to the peak. The peak is where
the sailors would see me for the first time. The peak that held treacherous rocks below to
graciously welcome them aboard. Crimson hadn't made it so far. The wind was fighting me
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furiously. Arms pumping back and forth, I flew each step as if that was the last remaining step
onto the peak. Simply running was forming my hair into a ponytail with the resistance. I ran for
what felt like an hour. My legs had grown tired, and, were we able to me bleed, my feet would
have left a trail of five miles long. I ran through brush and trees, and chirps and hisses. I ran until
I saw the ocean again. I ran until I saw my sisters. I crossed from forest to sand and dashed
towards the ledge. I saw Aglaope's hands steadily rendering her flute up to her pursed lips and
Peisino inhaling for her first note. I lunged at her, shoving her and her golden locks to float
towards the floor. I turned to the petal that had now formulated into a ship of dots and opened my
mouth to sing the most melodious, Godly sound that could seduce a mute. Out of my thousands
of hours of practice came a sound as ethereal as your most wonderful dream and as natural as the
persuasive wind. I sang to the ship and it bound closer and closer towards us. Until I could see
the dots form into people and a figure at the top. Closer. The waves carried my voice. Closer
now, and I no longer had to squint. The ship had come in full view and I could see into the eyes
of the shipmates. Curiously, they seemed empty, distracted. Their eyes shifted from me to
something atop the ship. Confused my eyes darted up to the mast where a man was tied up with
rope"-wrapped around him like a thick snake in for the deathkill. I hadn't looked to Peisino since
the attack, but it was now that I heard her utter something cryptic. Incomprehensible, but
something full of resignation and of pain.
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Sirens are enchanting, dangerous creatures that have been described in varying ways ranging from sparrow chests, to mermaid bottoms. They are portrayed as nude women, ranging in groups of 2-5, with long hair and supple bodies. They sing play an instrument to lure sailors in from their ships to the water where rocks and eventual death await them. Residing on an island called Sirenum scopuli, they are fathered by Achelous the river God. Few sailors hear their song and live to pass them. The ones that do, damn the performing siren to be flung into the ocean to her death. Among these few sailors, is the legend ofOdysseus. . ...\ ~
: I'
Taylor Carroll
ENGL 3140
Miro Penkov
11 March 2012
Thor and the Midgard Serpent
[Thor exceeds all other beings in his skill atjishing, and often boasts that he can
catch anything that swims in the sea. The giant, Hymir, wishes both to humble Thor and
to win his hammer, Mjolnir (the hammer that has slain so many giants), for himself
Hymir tells Thor he knows ajish the god cannot best; the proud god agrees to wager
"the most feared life taker in all the oceans ", which Hymir mistakenly believes to be
Mjolnir. Thor hooks Jormungandr but, after a long battle, ends up cutting the line. Hymir
realizes he's been outwitted}
It came about that, one rainy night in the later legs of the year, I was drinking at
an inn in Jotunheim, the home of the Giants: my kin. There was little revelry inside the
hall. Most patrons just wished they were but a little warmer and a lot less wet. I nursed
the strong mead that filled my hom, and waited for the beUy~warmth that followed
closely at the heels of every sip. Suddenly, and with great violence, the carved wooden
doors of the mead hall were flung open - betraying us to receive a sinister gust of hard
wind and sharp rain. Our complacency was now altogether broken, and many later agreed
that the intrusion of the elements was very nearly as bad as the intrusion of the
headstrong young god that then skipped over the threshold.
"Fill my hom with some of your famous mead, giants!" 1 thought this was a
request for the innkeeper, but was proven the fool when Thor helped himselfto the barrel
behind the bar. "I shall tell you a tale! Gather 'round, lads!"
Thus speaking, he muscled his way closest to the fireplace and removed his
insolently gleaming helmet. With a vulgar roar of hedonistic pleasure, he shook the ice
from his fiery beard. He downed the contents of his hom in one gulp and demanded a
second fill. 1 know 1 wasn't the only giant in the hall to have a hard time ignoring the
fearsome hammer, Mjolnir, which hung from the god's belt. That hammer had slain too
many of our kin - too many of my kin - and we knew the Thunder God didn't need
convincing to use it. None were keen on refusing the son of Odin his drink. Holding his
rejuvenated hom in one hand, he produced a massive bronze hook from behind his back.
One booted foot firmly planted on a chair, Thor took time to make sure everyone in the
room got a good, long look. The hook glistened with splendor. It stole the fire from the
hearth and the gleam from every drunken giant's eye. Satisfied that everyone had seen
what he had to show, Thor spoke:
"I tell you, giants, 1 am the greatest fisherman in all of the Nine Worlds! No fish
that bites on this beauty can ever let go, excepting when 1 pry the thing from the beast's
bloody jaw. Like Mjolnir," - here he set down his hom and held high the hammer,
causing many a giant to flinch and cower behind their tables - "this hook was forged by
the honorable Dwarves, always ready and able to please the gods! For what they lack in
size, they certainly make up for in skill, do they not?" He clapped the nearest giant on the
back and laughed heartily.
The blood in my veins was by now heated to boiling. I was numb to the wet chill I
felt but minutes before. How dare this headstrong god-pup come here and wave around
the very bane of our kin like it meant nothing? It seemed everyone else was either too
deep in his cup, or pretending to be, to do anything about it. I guess it would have to be
me. I kicked out my chair and waded through the drinkers. Thor turned to look at me.
chest puffed out; a haughty smirk shone through his beard. I looked down on him. and he
looked up at me. We could smell the mead on each other's breath.
"You're blufimg," I hissed. "I know of at least one creature in the sea that you
can not best. Not even with that damned hook ofyours. Not even with ten damned
hooks!" My anger was driving the alcohol to my head quicker, and I had to pause to
shake the haze from my eyes. "What would you wager I could lead you to a creature even
the mighty Thor cannot fish out of.tEgir's sea?"
"Ha! Poor giant's lost his head to the brew!" He looked around to make sure
others were sharing in his laughter. Few were.
"What's the matter, Thor? Don't want to risk your fame on a bet with a drunken
old giant? And I thought you were the best." I mocked disappointment. and Thor's
overloud guffaws were stopped short. I knew he had too much pride to walk away now. I
had him.
"What shall I wager, giant? You want my goats for your breakfast, hmm? You
want the hook for yourself, hmm? Is that it?"
"I want Mjolnir." It was barely a whisper, but the silence in the room was deep
enough to allow my words to reach the ears of all present. "I mean, really, what's the
mightiest fisherman in the Nine Worlds got to lose? Nothing can best the mighty Thor."
"Listen here, giant. I fought a whale for two days, and still I won. Big as a house,
he was! Fish would rather school with sharks than face my hook, and sharks have learned
to fear the teeth of Thor! Nothing living 'neath the waves is my equal. So I'll wager you
the most feared life-taker of all the oceans in the Nine Worlds that I can haul to shore any
creature you guide me to." With that, he spilled the last of the drink into his gullet and
slammed his hom on the table.
"Meet me at my farm bright and early tomorrow morning," I commanded. "It's
the one up on the hill, not an hour'sjoumey down the sea-road."
I could see anger flash in Thor's eyes for a moment. only to be quickly replaced
by his mocking joviality. He downed another drink, laughed heartily. and left the same
way he had come: with excessive force. One of the doors was now hanging from its
frame at an awkward angle, leaving the room in a chill such as it had never felt before.
Dawn came with a chill fog, and I stared at the illimitable ocean. Jonnungandr.
the Midgard Serpent, fated to kill Thor at Ragnarok - fated to be slain himself - was out
there somewhere in the abyss. He was waiting for us. With magic taught to me by my
mother, I was able to see the monster as it swam, unopposed, in the depths. It would be a
full day's voyage, but it would all be worth it. 1 knew 1 would win Mjolnir before the day
was through. Soon Thor arrived, hook and rod in hand.
"What are we using for bait?" He asked.
"Hal You came all this way and didn't bring your own bait? Better start digging
for worms, Thor."
The god didn't look amused. He looked around for a bit before laying hungry
eyes on my cattle that were grazing nearby. He sauntered over to the biggest, fattest ox 1
own (his name was Grekel) and lopped off the beast's head.
"I found bait!" He called with a laugh.
"One ox is a small price to pay for the weapon of a god, Thor." The words were
mumbled, but 1 suspected he heard them all the same.
I hauled my longboat into the sea. Twenty feet long, she was, and cut from trees
well as tough as Yggdrasil itself. Twelve pairs of oars, sturdy as iron and light as wool,
lined its gunwales. And the sail! Thirty-five feet across and strong enough to hold
through the angriest tempest, it was. Oh, you should have seen the way its bow could cut
through the waves! She was a real beauty that boat. 1 hopped aboard followed by Thor,
ox head in hand. We were off with the first favorable wind.
The ship was carried swiftly for many hours, and the voyage took less time that I
expected. The sun was still a few hours from the horizon when we arrived at that
particular spot of the sea where, leagues below, the Midgard Serpent waited.
"We're here, Thor; cast your line, if you be as brave as you boast."
"Braver still, my man," he chuckled.
Truthfully, I was beginning to doubt my own courage. Whether or not I win the
wager, there's still a chance we'd come within striking distance of that dreaded snake.
But I felt only the lust for revenge. Anger replaced fear; the promise of the prize replaced
anxiety.
Thor cast his line overboard; Grekel had entered the sea.
We didn't have to wait long. The foul serpent could probably smell the oxblood
before it ever hit the water. There came a violent tug on Thor's line that nearly threw him
overboard (wouldn't that be a blessing), but he mounted his feet against the side of the
boat and prepared for battle. There came a second tug from the depths, and Thor's line
shot, screaming, from its reel. Thor laughed merrily: the game was on.
For hours the beast dragged us over the open water, many times threatening to
send us crashing through sea ice. We always seemed to narrowly miss a collision.
Jormungandr was playing with us, but Thor wasn't playing with him. I don't know what
Thor thought this beast was, but I'm certain he meant to take its head as atrophy. He
heaved and pulled and worked up such a sweat that he glittered like copper in the waning
sunlight. The veins in his arms and legs were bulging, and he long ago lost his helmet to
the sea. He struggled to keep his line from completely escaping its reel, and it burned his
hands until they bled. The ship creaked, and the mast cracked. One by one, the planks
squeaked loose. The chaos of this violent game was ripping the sea apart. The water
frothed and wailed. A maelstrom churned beneath the boat, the abyss in its eye, eager to
swallow us up. Fear was beginning to replace my anger, and I no longer cared so much
for the prize. But Thor was laughing all the while, reveling in the glory of the game.
He gave one last, mighty tug. The snake's head was dragged to the surface in all
its horrid, furious glory.
"Jormungandr!" Thor was wide-eyed and furious. "Trickster! Well, fate be
damned! I'm not waiting till Ragnarok for the satisfaction!"
Thor raised his hammer. Jormungandr bared its teeth: each one long and sharp as
a sword, and dripping with venom. The serpent was fastest, and it was the serpent that
struck fIrst. Jormungandr lunged, maw gaping wide, but missed Thor by a hair's breadth.
Instead, the beast splintered the prow, sending the boat spinning through the waves and
threatening to throw us into the bubbling cauldron. But Thor was still laughing:
"Ha-ha! What a fIght! The skalds will sing of this for ages to come!"
It did not look like Thor would yield to Jorrnungandr, and the serpent would
certainly not yield to Thor. I knew I would die before either gave up the fIght. And so I
begged:
"Thor! Cut the line, else we both die in the snake's belly! Forget the wager. Cut
the line, and I'll tell all in the Nine Worlds that you would never have yielded fIrst!"
Thor smiled wide and, with a disappointed little chuckle, cut the line.
Jonnungandr disappeared into the black depths, not to be seen again until Ragnarok.
"Ah, what a generous Giant you are, Hymir," Thor said, still looking off into the
bubbling sea.
"What do you mean, generous?" I asked.
"Well, you let your friend, Jonnungandr, take your prize! The most feared life­
taker of all the oceans is now his. I do hope he uses it well ..." He trailed off, amused but
defeated.
It was tears in my eyes that I realized I nearly died for a fishhook.
Julie Whitby
MiroPenkov
English 3140
March 9, 2012
The Underdog
People just don't get Me. Or maybe they just don't understand my cosmic sense of
humor. If they did they wouldn't be surprised by anything I do. They would expect the
unexpected. And they would bet on the underdog every time.
Take David for example. Me choosing him-why I chose him to be the greatest king that
Israel would ever know-is a whole story unto itself and, consequently, beside the point I'm
making here. I only mention David because he is prime, Grade A, proof positive of how much I
love to do the unexpected with the least likely resources imaginable.
Let Me offer a bit of background before I go any further. When this story starts, Saul is
the first king oflsrael. Now, I had always determined to be Israel's King and to pass My
guidance down through the prophets and judges, but after I had brought My people out of Egypt
and back into the land I had promised them, they got restless. They started looking around at all
their pagan neighbors and got some bright ideas about how nations ought to be run. Then they
started whining about how they wanted a "real" king, one like all the other people had. Sooooo,
being Who I Am I, being the devoted Father I am, I gave in and them what they wanted,
knowing full well how it would turn out. I admit, I'm a bit of a soft touch where My children are
concerned. I want them to be happy and so I will often give them what they ask-at least when I
know it won't destroy them.
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But I digress. I had let My people choose Saul to be their first human king. Of course
they would choose a guy like Saul. He was good-looking and well-built. He looked every inch a
leader, but in actuality he wasn't much of one. And that's what happens when one only considers
outward appearances. Israel would suffer as a result of choosing Saul. Not because I punished
them. No. They suffered because there is always a price to be paid for stepping outside the best
way into the "other" way. But that's a story for another day too.
Anyway, Israel and Philistia were at war during the reign of King Saul and at one point
the two armies were camped at the Valley of Elah. The Valley of Elah was quite a place-two,
half-mile slopes rising away from a streambed at the bottom. These rising slopes create a canyon
marked at either end by two hills which sit about a mile opposite each other. It's a pretty
canyon-a little rocky, but very green and grassy. It was named for the Elah trees which are
pretty much a thing of the past now but dotted the valley prolifically in the days the Israelites and
Philistines readied themselves for battle there.
Did I mention that the Philistines grew 'em big? There was a strain ofthem that were
humongous-absolute physical monsters. Some of these guys would dwarf the largest NBA
player that ever touched a ball, and they could rip a full grown man apart by the seams. They had
this one brute, Goliath-he was 9'9"-1 kid you not, but more about him a little later.
The long and the short of it is that the Philistines were something to behold, even if they
were behind the door the day I passed out brains. Instead of worshipping Me, the Creator, the
Philistines worshiped My creation. I tried to show them the error of their ways. When they
captured My Ark and proceeded to house it in that cesspool of a temple they had built to the
demon, Degon, I decided to give them a little display of my power. Nothing big mind you, no
water to blood or angels of death or anything like that, just a little good natured one-uppmanship.
3
I simply tipped over their "god" and laid it prostrate before My Ark. But instead of getting the
message, those morons simply righted the statue. Really????? That aberration has stood there,
unmolested for years, but the minute they bring My Ark in there with it, the damn thing falls on
its face?
Wouldn't that give people with even a lick ofsense a single moment of pause?
Not the Philistines. They went and stood the god back up. And, I, consequently simply
knocked it over again-though this time I broke off it its head and its hands and dumped them in
the temple doorway. It was some really nice work if! do say so Myself. You should have seen
their faces, all those Dagonian priests standing there trying to piece the mystery together. I nearly
laughed myself silly.
Now, any rational people would have begun to think that maybe the God of Israel might
be the real deal after an episode like that, but not them. Noooooo, those Philistines wouldn't
know the truth if it walked up and introduced itself. I gave up on them after that (nobody wants
to be loved and worshiped by people that stubborn and stupid) and set about afflicting them with
plagues. By that point I just wanted them to give back the Ark. It took seven months of the pox
to finally get their attention. They finally mailed My Ark back to the Israelites, but still wouldn't
worship me.
So yeah, I had crossed those Philistines off my list as a lost cause by the time they
showed up at the Valley ofElah. They were ajoke, a fart in the wind of history. They just didn't
know it yet. And my people didn't know it yet either.
Out of the Philistine camp marched this Goliath character. He was really hairy and
smelled worse than a herd of warthogs, and he's armored up in bronze from stem to stem­
helmet, a coat ofmail from shoulder to knee, greaves on his legs. His armor alone weighed about
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200lbs and he carried a spear that weighed no less than 25 lbs. There was this dude running out
in front ofhim carrying his shield that was as big as its bearer. No doubt about it, as far as
humans go, this guy was an impressive sight to behold. And day after day this behemoth stood
at the top of the Philistines hill and yelled across the valley to the Israelites. "Hey, which one of
you pussies wants to fight me? No sense all y'all and all of us gettin' into it. Let's just handle
this one mano y mano. Sent over you're toughest mutherfucker and I'll turn him into a couple
hundred quarter pounders with cheese."
The Israelites were not amused. In fact, they didn't even know where to begin to deal
with that beast.
Now, I did my part. I tried to help. I kept dialing King Saul's number. I kept trying to tell
him that he could take this guy. I kept trying to tell him that I'd be his wingman ifhe'djust step
out and trust me to take care of him and My people. Saul was a big guy in his own right,
remember, and with Me at his side, that waste of skin Goliath wouldn't stand a ice cube's chance
in hell. But Saul wasn't answering my calls. He couldn't even hear the phone ringing.
Instead of going out and acting like the king his people needed him to be, he cowered in
his tent and sent his messenger to make the men of his army an offer: any soldier who took on
Goliath and killed him would be rewarded with great riches, the hand of his daughter and a
lifetime family exemption from taxes.
Not a soul volunteered. Not one.
And who could blame them when the most able warrior among them-their King­
wasn't man enough to shut the mouth ofthat arrogant Philistine.
"I thought the Most High was on your side, you yellow-bellied fucks," Goliath screamed
for forty days across the Valley ofEIah. "Where is your God now? Where is your faith? Ifbut
5
one of you can kill me, our entire nation become your servants. But if I kill one of you, you will
become our servants."
Enter David to this scene, a shepherd sent up to the valley by his old man, Jessie to check
on his three older brothers who are in Saul's army. He came bearing roasted grain for his
brothers and a boatload of cheese for their commander. David didn't look like much. He hadn't
sprouted a single hair on his chin yet. He had a couple pimples too. This kid had been living on
the hill with only his family's sheep for company most of his young life and this trip out to the
battlefield to check on his brothers was the farthest he'd ever travelled to date. He'd never even
seen this many men gathered in one spot before and his eyes were bugging out at the sight of it
all. No, David wasn't much to look at on the outside, but I knew this kid. He was a giant where it
mattered.
David found his brothers and he was chatting them up. He had a bunch of questions. "Are
you eating good? Are you fighting hard? Are you getting enough rest?" His old man had asked
for the details and David wasn't about to head back home without them.
And while David was getting the scoop he heard Goliath bellow, "Hey you Israelites
pussies. Where is your God now? If He was so powerful, why don't you call Him down to save
you? But not one of you does, because you know He is as weak as you are. You are no match for
me. Your God is no match for me."
Up until this moment it had been fairly quiet in the camp. Men were cooking their
breakfast and going about their morning duties, but at the sound of Goliath's roar they scurried
into their tents overturning their stools on the way and leaving their porridge pots boiling on the
fire.
David blinked in disbelief.
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"What the hell is this?" David said to his brothers. "Who does that dude think he is,
talking about God and this people that way? Someone needs to shut him up."
David's oldest brother, Eliab, was irritated at him. "Oh, yeah, big man you are. Come out
here think you got something to tell us about how things ought to be done. What in the hell are
you doing here anyway? Get your butt on home before it gets spanked."
"What's your deal?" David asked. "I'm just saying that guy has no business talking about
the God of Israel that way. Besides I bet the king will do something great for the man who deals
with this situation."
I made sure that the news that David had arrived in the camp reached Saul, along with
fact that he was asking questions about what would be done for the man who took care of
Goliath. And Saul sent for the kid, though he didn't know why he did. He didn't realize it was
Me that had put the thought in his head to do so. He had no expectations about David. He knew
he was a harp-playing shepherd boy and that was it.
David marched in and said, "King Saul, don't worry about a thing, King. I'm gonna take
care of this uncircumcised Philistine for you."
Saul laughed. "Kiddo, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you just ain't got what it takes to
kill that guy. Forget his size. You're a boy and that guy's been a soldier all his life. Not just any
soldier either. That guy is special ops. The baddest of the bad."
"I don't care what he's done," David said with a smile. "I have killed lions and bears to
protect my flocks and I will kill this schmuck too. For God is greater than any man. If He kept
me from being shredded by wild animals I think He can save me from that Philistine. Don't you,
King?"
7
Don't you just dig this kid? Is it any wonder that I would make him the next King of
Israel?
Saul stood there and stared at David, this child whose courage so far exceeded his own
that Saul should have been shamed into marching out and taking care of Goliath right then and
there. What self-respecting king would send a child into a situation like that? I whispered in
Saul's ear, "Be a man. Be a king. I'd do for you that I would do for David .. .if only you'd call on
Me. I'll protect you from a hundred Goliath's. Just give Me the chance."
But Saul couldn't hear Me.
"Ok kid," Saul said instead. "You and God get to it."
I shook my head. Fine. If Saul wanted to relinquish the glory to David, so be it.
Saul pulled out his armor and put it on David. He handed him his sword. "All set, big
man."
David tried to raise the sword. He barely could. The armor restricted his movement
severely. He strained to see out from under the helmet. "Uhhh, King Saul," he laughed," I don't
think this is going to work. I can barely move, let alone fight."
David took off Saul's armor. He put down Saul's sword and back in his own clothing, he
trudged down the hill to the brook in the middle of the valley. He waded in and surveyed the
stones glistening in the water. "Okay. Lord," he asked Me, "which ones?"
I pointed out one that I'd been preparing since the dawn of time. It was speckled brown,
the size of a child's fist. David picked it up along with four others and put them in the pouch tied
to his belt.
"What are the extra ones for kiddo," I asked him as he marched out to meet Goliath.
"You only need the one."
.I
8
"I know, but he's got four brothers."
I really dug this kid and I didn't want to spoil the suspense for him. He didn't need to
worry about Goliath's brothers. "Good thinking," I said and patted him on the shoulder.
Goliath's eyes boggled when he saw David coming out to meet him with his shepherd's
staff. "What the fuck is this?" he hollered. "You come out here with a stick to beat me with? You
think I'm some kind of dog, boyo? By the name of Dagon I'm going to tear your scrawny ass
apart and feed the little pieces of you to the badgers and the birds."
David laughed. "You come out here with your sword and armor, but I come to you
protected by the God of Heaven, the God of Israel, which you have mocked and defied."
"You are Philistine toast, my stinky friend," I said to Goliath who chose not to hear me.
Goliath couldn't see me either-or my army of angels. All he saw was a child with a sling shot
and a staff. What a fool he was.
David smiled. "Today, the Lord will conquer you. Today, the Lord will use me to kill
you. Kiss your back porch goodbye, Philistine. You and your army will be the ones fed to the
animals, not me, and not the army ofIsrael."
Goliath, hearing David's reply stepped forward. "It's your funeral, kid."
David ran toward him. As he did he fished a stone, the stone, from the pouch, put it in his
sling shot, aimed and fired. He was on the run, full speed ahead. His aim was a little offbut it
hardly mattered. The breath often thousand angels spirited the stone along its course and planted
it deep between the Philistine's eyes.
Pain ricocheted through Goliath's skull. His vision closed in. An angel slipped out a
gossamer foot in front of Goliath and caught the edge ofthe big guy's toe. That was all it took
for the Philistine to lose his balance and topple forward. He wasn't dead, just very dazed,
P'')
.~ J
v
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consciousness threatened to abandon him. There was no way he could get to his feet, not with the
weight of fate sitting invisibly on his back. He didn't even know where he was anyway, let alone
that his very survival depended on his getting up and fighting.
David, without a sword of his own and seeing that Goliath wasn't dead, grabbed the
prostate giant's sword from its sheath. As he raised it high above his head he was amazed at how
light it was (ifhe suspected I'd lent him a finger or two, he never let on) and brought it down
across the giant's neck, severing the spinal column with ease.
The rest of the Philistine army took off running. They had just seen their biggest badass
killed by a kid with a rock so they were more than a little concerned about what the trained
Israelite army might do to them. They would fmd out soon, because the Israelites chased them
all the way home, slaughtering the many they caught-a glorious bloodbath.
Saul's face, as he stood watching David kill Goliath, was a sight to see. It was ashen. The
realization that the battle had been assured all along, but that he had been unwilling to claim it,
he who had everything needed to do the job in faith and receive My blessing, was written all
over it. Though less of an underdog than David, he still would have been one in the battle with
Goliath, and ifhe'd trusted in me it could have been him that history remembered. Ah, well I
almost felt sorry for him...except that I didn't.
Saul was just like most people. He just didn't get Me.
And it would cost him his kingdom.
1
Jeremy Schmidt
03/14112
ENGL3140
"Thanatos: Much talk. Talking will win you nothing. All the same, the woman goes with me to Hades'
house. I go to take her now, and dedicate her with my sword, for all whose hair is cut in consecration
by this blade's edge are devoted to the gods below." -Euripides
Mitera
After traveling beyond the Western horizon, Dionysus had finally found the River Styx. His eyes traced
the river down into a dark cave, and then back landing on Charon standing patiently by the boat
awaiting his instructions. A beady eyed Minoan crawled out from behind Dionysus on her hands and
knees. Her fox skinned robe barely covered her soft white skin. She wished to touch the river, but after
sucking down a bit of wine she decided not to. Looking up to Dionysus she motioned toward a fig tree
for perhaps, a nap. Dionysus wiped the sweat from his beard with the bottom of his robe and handed
the Minoan his fennel staff, tipped with a pine cone. The Minoan took his artifact and rested her eyes
seeing only Dionysus stepping onto the boat before she fell deeply asleep.
The skin was cracking on Charon's extended gray palm. Dionysus handed over two coins and
Charon began to pull their boat toward the darkened cave with a large wooden oar. Dionysus wasn't
scared, but Dionysus was sober and had been now for many years.
The water was black, but it mirrored a clear reflection. Dionysus was able to see himself for the
first time in many years, while standing up in the boat. He looked older than he thought. He had more
gray in his hair than he expected. He saw his father in his own face now and it worried him. If he were
actually wiser than in his youth then why was he the god of the grape harvest? He felt he was a good fit
for the job at one point, but now he wasn't sure. "Shouldn't someone sowing wild oats oversee the
2
harvest festivals and drive men stark mad on a drunken whim," he thought. That's when he noticed an
old soul creeping toward the surface of the water. It was a child who probably died of sickness and
looked as though it was very hungry. Dionysus speculated whether the child was Spartan or from some
farm community on the island of Crete. Charon poked the child with his oar and sent him back down
into the the depths of the river. He then began to speak.
"I apologize, but most will not try to approach you. Most know who you are." The deep
rumbling of his voice carried with it no emotion at all and reminded Dionysus of his father's scoldings.
Every syllable was drawn out to completion and delivered formally as not to attract attention. Dionysus
sat down in the boat, and dipped his hands in the cold water.
"Charon, may I ask you a question?"
"That would be fine."
"Are you happy?" Dionysus realized it was almost mocking to ask the ferryman, but he had no
plans of returning after his journey was over.
"I once saw a white rose growing out of the rock wall. I stared at the rose while rowing until it
was no longer in sight. When I returned it was gone. Every journey I make back and forth is now in
absence of that rose, but I know now there are roses." responded Charon as he pulled the oar from the
water and let the current pull them along. Dionysus understood his puzzling remark and felt as though
he had not yet seen his white rose.
The Acheron, The Cocytus, The Phlegethon, The Lethe, and The Styx all diverge at the gates of
the Underworld, which creates a steady current. Dionysus stood up and admired the three headed
canine beast guarding the gates. He had never seen Cerberus before and noted that the majestic hound
looked much smaller than he had pictured. After stepping off the boat Dionysus turned to the stoic
ferryman and tipped him with an extra coin. Charon remained speechless. Dionysus entered the gates
and patted the neck of Cerberus who he had a fondness for since he was a child. Cerberus accepted the
gesture and growled feverishly at a damned soul flirting with escape. All are allowed in, but none must
/" 1
"
i
,,;
,--/ ",~,,'
3
ever leave.
Dionysus found Hades to be quite uncomfortable but not exquisitely bad. Everything is damp
there and the halls are confusing. "It's much too dark," he thought. Hades seems to mock Dionysus to
his very purpose. Nothing can be grown and everyone is a particular type of miserable. He knew of
Sisyphus with his boulder and Tantalus with his hunger and wished dearly not to run into them. He was
there to see Persephone and was growing frustrated from the confusion of the intersecting hallways.
The souls wandering around him were much too afraid to come anywhere near Dionysus. It was clear
that he was not one of the damned, rather a god and that frightened them. Finally, Dionysus pulled
aside an older gentleman and held him down as he squirmed and flailed about. "Where is Persephone's
quarters?"
"She is close down the adjacent halL Just follow the smell oflilac." his eyes were staring in two
different directions.
"Are you mad?"
"It was you Dionysus. You're the one who drove me to madness. Don't be so off-put by my
wandering eyes, or my ticks and quirks. You had a bit of fun, and I'll admit it was amusing to watch me
fall in a drunken haze down back alleys and bathhouses. It was amusing to see me embarrass my family
and lose my inheritance to gambling. Do not dare be ashamed of me though. I'm one of your better
creations," whispered the old man as he suddenly burst into tears after being dropped and abandoned
by Dionysus. He had remembered the old fellow over a summers feast following the Trojan war. There
were many parties back then and so followed many nights Dionysus would play tricks on odd looking
men and women for a laugh. Sometimes they went too far, and as Dionysus follows the trail oflilac he
thinks back on all of his drunken behavior and feels nothing.
Persephone looked surprised to see Dionysus. Her eyes widened but she did not move from lying down
in the midst of well groomed men holding plates of grapes and cooked meats. Dionysus preferred the
4
blend of his own grapes. Persephone sent the men away to stand in the shadow places ofthe room.
"Takes a seat Dionysus," she said with flirtatious irritation. He did and she sat up to meet him eye to
eye.
"Where is your husband?"
"He is with his brothers. Your father inquires about you. I say there is really not much to tell.
You've been gone for so long." Persephone took a drink from her goblet of thick red wine. "Care for a
drink?"
"Not right now. I'm here to pull someone out ofthe Underworld." he said with absolute
confidence.
"You know Hades would never allow it."
"But you will." he whispered, "I have something you might enjoy." Dionysus pulled out from
his robe a healthy collection of myrtle, roots in tact, and placed it on the table between them.
Persephone was astonished at his offer. For as fertile as Persephone's farms had been she could not
cultivate myrtle. The shrub carries with it a fragrant essential oil that Persephone longed for. Hades did
not care much for living things, so he refused to obtain the myrtle for his wife, which would only
encourage her to spend time on the harvest. Dionysus had acres of myrtle.
"Who is it that you want spared from this place?" she said.
"A woman named Semele. I believe her to be my mother." with this he held his chin up high
and proud.
"Dionysus, why after all this time do you have any interest in your mothers freedom? Zeus is
your mother. The mountain nymphs who raised you are your mothers." she said while getting up a
moving within inches of Dionysus. Her lips brushed against his for a moment before speaking, "there
was even a rumor that I was your mother." Dionysus quickly turned from her and stood facing the dark
and narrow halls flooded with damned souls and demonic shadows.
"Something has changed inside of me. The thought of sending people to Hades was once
5
exciting and I rallied with others to insist upon man's journey here, but no longer do I find it amusing. I
am simply out of touch with mankind and even the gods of my association. There is only one person I
long to know before I give up and wish the world away or die again by the hands of those wretched
Titans. That is I wish to know my mother." After delivering his speech he took Persephone by the hand
and looked deeply into her eyes, "now, which way do I go?"
The spiraling stone staircase stretched on for what felt like days. "Most of these steps need mending,"
Dionysus thought as he noticed the decrepit hole filled walls and frequently kicked away loose stone.
He did not know what he'd find at the bottom, and speculated whether the whole investigation had even
been worth it. What if Persephone was right? What if finding her would prove to cause more harm than
good? He would not let these thoughts change his mind, but he did start to question his motives. Why
had he lost his taste for wine and festivities? His cult followers were menaces to society all frequently
dancing and harboring ecstasy. They lived like forest creatures and drank themselves to death. Was he
proud of those followers he accrued?
When he reached the bottom there were what looked like rows of stone coffins where thousands
of bodies lay. These were the men and women who have chosen sleep so Dionysus remained sensitive
to that. He walked among the bodies. Some of them proud soldiers and politicians. He also recognized
some old beggars and lepers. There were followers of his among the bodies. Mostly good people. Then
he saw her. He knew it had to be her. She had his proud chin. It was the way he always dreamed she
looked, which was the way Zeus described her. She was beautiful.
Just then the flapping of wings and the screaming of lost souls came hurdling down the spiral
walkway. The winged thing revealed himself to be Thanatos and carried in his arms were the souls of
three criminals. Thanatos tossed them aside for a moment while he opened a special chamber. He then
grabbed the three men and placed them inside. After closing the large iron door the screaming ceased.
He turned and found Dionysus standing beside Semele as she rose from her sleeping state in harmony
6
with the thousands of other sleeping souls. All of them looked toward Thanatos. He was devilishly
handsome and dressed like a Spartan soldier. It was clear from the bags below his eyes that his days
were long and his nights were longer. Death never stops for Thanatos, and when Hermes gets caught up
with his other duties it's up to Thanatos to bring in the deceased. He walks slowly toward Dionysus
who is standing perfectly still. Semele is afraid. She covers her face in Dionysus's robe.
"Dionysus, why have you come to this place?" asks Thanatos now towering over him and
smiling with arrogance.
"I am here to take this woman home with me." Semele gasps and looks up at Dionysus in
confusion.
"I brought this one in, why don't you take another one? One that is not significant to me."
"This is my mother Thanatos. That is why it must be her."
"My answer is no Dionysus. You can not just come into Hades house and take whomever you
choose back to earth. It cannot work that way." Thanatos put his hand on Dionysus's shoulder to
comfort the god of ritual madness and ecstasy. He then attempted to escort Dionysus out of his lair, but
he found that Dionysus would not be moved.
"I am beginning to grow impatient with you Thanatos."
The winged god of death flashed his radiant darkness in a tornado of fury and flew up into the
air like a raging bat. His true form was now seen, which was much like before but now hideous and
putrid. The smell alone that slithered past his teeth could poison the lungs. The souls lying about on
their beds ran by the hundreds for cover, in fear of Thanatos. Dionysus would not be intimidated by this
creature. "Barely a god," thought Dionysus as he suddenly just vanished from Thanatos's sight. Semele
was now alone with her captor and more fearful than ever. Thanatos looked around in question. He had
seen tricks before but was unsure what to make of this one.
Like in the wake of a drunken haze Thanatos suddenly felt sick in his stomach and in his head.
The aches caused him slowly float down from his posted flight. He sat down on an empty bed and
I
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stared desperately at Semele. "You were the first soul I brought here. I want you to stay." He began to
get up and stumble over to her. He reminisced of her death, and carrying her down those spiraling stairs.
He remembered the way she looked in his arms, and her smell not yet tainted by the smell of rot and
damp dirt. He fell down and could now barely see through the blur, but he finally made it over to
Semele who was shaking with terror. He tussled her golden locks and it took him back to the time he
cut her hair in preparation for the Underworld. It was all too much for Thanatos to take in, so he fell
over in a drunken slumber that was so convincing Semele perceived him to be dead and fainted as a
result.
"How much time had passed?" were her first thoughts when she finally woke up. Semele was being
helplessly carried, but for some reason this did not worry her. She opened her eyes for just a glimpse,
but the light was so bright it burned her so she kept them shut. It had been so long since anything had
happened specifically to her, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to talk again. She tried for a
moment to open her mouth and speak but the task seemed daunting so she laid there instead awaiting
some unknown destination.
"You're safe now," the voice was familiar to her. "I have an apartment ready for you, and I have
decided for your own safety that you should change your name. Why don't we change it to Thyone?"
She nodded her head in approval. "Good, we're inside now you can open your eyes." She obeyed and
found it to be tolerable once inside her new apartment. The place was beautifully decorated with many
exotic floral arrangements. Sitting on the dining table was a large bowl of grapes. She looked around
and eventually her eyes landed on Dionysus. She had already grown accustomed to his face that looked
so familiar. After pouring them both a glass from a wine he had prepared for this precise moment, he
spoke.
"Hello, mother. My name is Dionysus. I have been waiting a very long time to meet you."
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Origin Story
This story is playing on the Greek myth where Dionysus who had never met his mother became
worried for her in Hades, and ventured into the Underworld to bring her back. He bribes Persephone
with myrtle and stands up to Thanatos. After retrieving her he sets her up in an apartment and changes
her name from Semele to Thyone in order to keep her safe.