Intermediate Creative Writing ENGL 3140 Mira Penkov Story Two

Intermediate Creative Writing
ENGL 3140
Mira Penkov
Story Two
Worksheet 1
Read for March 29, 2012
Michelle Cronan
Miroslav Penkov
English 3140
3/15/12
This is my adaptation ofthe Brother's Grimm's version ofsleeping beauty. A fairy tale
in which a young Princess is cursed by a jealous evil fairy to sleep until a Prince ofpure
heart breaks the spell.
Sleeping Beauty
I look out over the endless expanse of lush green trees and I can't help but smile.
I exhale slowly and let the calm wash over me. This, here amongst the treetops, in the
forest is when I feel most alive, most free. The melody of rustling leaves and birds
chirping is my favorite song. A melody I am only ever able to enjoy on rare occasions. I
turn my eyes North towards the extravagant marble castle with its beautiful towers,
elaborate stain glass windows and the lush vines that grow on it. Most girls ... most
people I suppose only dream of living in such a place, but for me it has become more of a
prison than a home.
My parents, in there overbearing nature, will have sent the guards and the
huntsmen to search for me soon. Heaven forbid their precious daughter so much as ever
get a scratch upon her faire skin or dirty her golden hair and heaven forbid she ever have
any real life experience.
Don't get me wrong, I do love my parents but they're so
incredibly suffocating all the time. They hardly let me leave the castle just to go into
town. They would never let me into the forest. However, fifteen years of being trapped
in a cage forces you to get creative.
I've learned that if I give our head chef Jacque a few of my fine jewels or some
spare gold he will pretend not to notice as a slip out the back door of the kitchen. I know
1
1
b,
all the rounds the guards make, when they take their breaks and how to scale the eastside
wall. I've managed to make it to the forest at least seven times without my parents
catching on. It may seem silly but after years of staring a what seems like endless trees
and blue skies I couldn't help feeling the pull of freedom calling out to me, tempting me
to experience life outside the castle walls. Eventually, I gave in, dipped my foot in sinful
temptation and now I can't stop. I'm just so tired of being treated like a china doll, made
of glass and easily breakable. I'm....
"Hey Princess Rose won't you please come down from your thrown and talk with
a mere peasant for a minute?
Of course he found me. I would know that voice anywhere, and I can't help the
faint smile that pulls at my lips. It's Aidan; at seventeen he is easily the most skilled of
the huntsmen in my father's company. I shimmy down the tree only to find him staring
at me with his familiar mischievous and knowing smirk.
"I see you've ventured away from your usual spot" he says as he quirks his brow
upward indicating his surprise at my craftiness and continues to smirk at me expectantly.
"How did you find me so quickly?"
He laughs and replies "Come on Rose I'm the one who showed you to sneak out of the
castle in the first place. Besides it's not as if you blend in well out here."
I pout at him annoyed which elicits another laugh from him. I hate to admit it, but
he's right. My light blue dress doesn't exactly match the deep green that surrounds me. I
can't help it though, I'm royalty and according to my mother Princesses don't get dirty,
they don't wear pants, climb trees or go out in the dark of the night hunting big bad
wolves. Being a Princess is insufferably boring.
?
"You could have waited a little longer before you found me though," I whine
through pursed lips. "I've haven't even been out here for very long."
"Uh, Princess you've been out here for over an hour, besides would you have
preferred for one of the guards to have found you?"
"If it means I could have spent more time amongst the trees then yes. An hour is
nothing compared to a life time of being imprisoned within the walls of your home." I
snap at him. He doesn't understand though. He can't understand, Aidan is free to roam
about the castle, the town, the forest or where ever he pleases. He isn't bound by his title
or anyone for that matter.
"Come on Princess you known I'm your favorite." He says as he grins at me
devilishly.
"You're so arrogant Aidan." I respond with all the nonchalance I can muster but
the widening of his grin tells me I've failed.
I feel my face start to flush. I seriously hate him sometimes because he known's
how to get a rise out of me. I hate losing my composure; it makes me feel weak letting
people see how I feel. But sometimes around Aidan I can't help it.
When I met him almost two years ago I was taken back by how attractive he was,
a feeling soon replaced by disgust at his arrogance. And two years later he is even more
attractive he has grown a few inches taller and his muscles have become more defined
from both hunting and manual labor. He has dark brown hair that is slightly unkempt,
green eyes that remind me of the lush leaves in the forest, his skin is tanned from the sun
and his smile is as mischievous as always. I snap out of my thoughts only to see him still
smirking.
"Whatever, you're so full of yourself. Anyways how upset is my mother?"
"She was more hysterical than ever, she found out that you've been bartering your
jewelry with Jacques in exchange for his silence." He pauses for a moment and his eyes
soften. "They through his family in jail as compensation for the jewels."
My heart drops to my stomach" What? Why doesn't he just give them back?"
"Rose he sold them, apparently his son is really sick so he used the jewels as a
means to buy medicine."
I can hardly stop the tears from slipping from my face. This is my fault. I never
once considered what might happen to Jacques if he was caught helping me escape. Of
course, I never imagined that my parents could be so cruel. Anger builds up within side
me.
How could anyone be so cruel over something so frivolous as jewels?
It is
completely unfair. I spend the rest of the walk to the castle in silence.
"Aurora Rose what in heavens did you think you were doing sneaking out of this
castle! You could have been killed, you could have been ... "
"Yes, mother I know, I'm a fragile little doll who isn't equipped to deal with the
big bad world. How could you imprison Jacques family over something I did?" I can't
help but scream at her. I'm so disgusted by her actions. It is one thing to imprison me,
but an innocent family is an entirely different thing.
"He defied your father and myself by helping you sneak out. That's treason and it
is punishable by death. I happen to feel that he got off lightly considering."
"That is ridiculous. Do you even know what he was using those jewels for? To
buy medicine for his sick son and now you've imprisoned his family."
My mothers voice softens as she says "Aurora your father and I go through a
great deal to keep this kingdom safe, we go through so much to keep you safe... "
"Safe, Pm more than safe I'm one step short of being chained to this place. I've
had no experience in the real world, I've never lived" my voice trembles as I begin to feel
defeated.
"Honey, there are things you don't understand, this situation is very
complicated..."
"Then tell me." I scream as my frustration takes over again. "Pm not a tiny fragile
child anymore. I'll be sixteen tomorrow, give me some credit.
I'm capable of
understanding more than you know."
"You are the heir to this kingdom Aurora Rose and we must make sacrifices to
keep you safe, maybe you resent that, but one day you will understand."
I look at my mother, she's so beautiful and I can't help but wonder when she
became so weak and afraid. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror only to realize just
how much I look like her. My long golden hair is slightly wavier than hers; my skin is a
little bit fairer, younger than hers. Her figure is fuller than mine her lips still just as pink
at least, when they aren't painted in red Lipstick. What strikes me the most is her eyes,
they are not deep blue like mine, rather they have faded to a blue-grey.
She looks like a woman who the world has broken.
I don't want to end up
defeated one day. I never asked for this crown and I certainly don't want it. But as I
stare at my reflection and at my mother whose spirit has been weighed down by worry,
worry that I've created I know what I must do.
~'I'm
sorry, I've been selfish... it's just that 1 feel so trapped sometimes and
I don't know what to do with myself. 1 just want to know what is outside of these walls.
I'm sorry." And 1 am.
"I know it's hard honey but everything your father and 1 have done is because we
are so afraid of losing you" her voice creaks, exposing how vulnerable and helpless my
mother is.
"I have a proposition for you, I promise not to sneak out anymore if you release
Jacques' family."
My mother smiles softly
~'you
my darling daughter are so full of wisdom and
grace. As long as you remain in the castle Jacques' family will be free, now get some
rest. Tomorrow everyone in the Kingdom will be here to celebrate your birthday and if
you're lucky you may find adventure within these wal1s."
"Maybe you will find adventure within these walls, your in control of your
destiny. You can choose to be happy or miserable. You are a strong young woman, you
can survive this"
1 repeat this over and over again as 1 stare at myself in the mirror. A gold crown,
it was my mothers first, embellished with diamonds and pearls sits upon my head. My
face is painted with make-up, only a subtle amount, yet I still feel like I'm staring at a
stranger. My silk dress is pastel pink with layers trimmed in gold and lace. It cascades
down my body accentuating my curves; it is as delicate as 1 look. 1 don't know this girl
that is staring back at me she looks mature and dainty. I look like a Princess.
I am startled out of my thoughts by Aidan, handsome as ever in his hunting
clothing. My heart flutters as he smiles at me.
"Wel1look at you Rose, you look ... "
"Stupid? I know but I promised my mother 1 would be the perfect Princess in
exchange for Jacques' families freedom." I can't help but feel silly standing here dressed
like this in front of him.
"I was actually going to say beautifuL Although you always look beautiful but,
right now you look ... you look grown up. You look like someone ready to rule the
kingdom with grace and sincerity," his tone lacks his normal arrogance, his eyes and
smile are soft and locked on mine.
My heart starts to flutter as he moves closer to me. The music from the ballroom
floats upwards to my room just as Aidan reaches me.
"Could you spare one dance, Princess, for a commoner like meT' he teases lightly
as he takes my hand and guides me swiftly around the room.
"You really are meant to rule, even though you spent your life in these walls you
still have so much grace and wisdom." he pauses a moment to twirl me. "I know you
don't agree but this is where you belong, not alone in the treetops but here guiding the
people."
His eyes are so captivating and yet unusually telling, he is keeping something
from me.
"What aren't you telling me Aidan? I ask and my eyes plead for him not to keep
anything from me.
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"I'm leaving tonight, I'm going on a big hunt and I'm not sure when or if I'll be
back."
"Why wouldn't you come back?'
He laughs and smiles sadly "come on Rose, what's keeping me here?"
I cast my eyes downward, speechless; I don't know what to tell him. If I'm not
enough for him, I won't beg for his love.
"Hey" he whispers as he lifts my chin revealing the tears that linger in my eyes.
"I'm not good enough for you Rose, you're the Princess and I'm just a huntsman."
"That doesn't matter, we can stilL."
"No we can't your parents would never allow it."
"Then I'll run away with you, yes come on Aidan we could slip out in the night,
leave this place and go somewhere they won't find us."
"And let your parent's imprison Jacques' and anyone else who they think helped
us? You don't have the heart to do that Rose and that is exactly why you will make an
amazing Queen one day."
My voice trembles "I don't want you to leave though."
"I know but I have too," his hand caresses my cheek as he says "Anyways we
both know I could never be a king, I'm too much of a nomad, if I stay in one place to
long I start to get antsy.
My reply is a simple nod because I can't say anything to change his mind.
Besides he is right I've already decided to take my place as Queen. I know I have to
protect my people the way my mother protects me. There isn't anything I can do but
cherish this moment with him.
(
And then it happens he leans in and kisses me. His lips are a little course from
year of exposure to the elements but it feels warm and inviting. One of his strong arms
snakes around my waste and pulls me closer to him as his other calloused hand caresses
my face, my neck to my breasts. I shiver drunk off a feeling I've never known. Before I
know it we're on my bed and he gives me something I've never had before.
The rest of the night was a blur, I drank, I danced and I socialized with people
from all over the kingdom but all I could think of was Aidan. Even now I stare out my
window into the forest thinking of him, wondering where he is and if someday I'll see
him again. His last words still fresh in my mind.
"Hey Princess, just so you know, you've always been my favorite. I love you."
And then he was gone.
My heart feels heavy and I can't help but wonder did my mother also have to
leave love behind to fulfill her duty? How much more will I have to sacrifice for my
people? Do I even have anything left to give them? I'm not sure ifI do all I know is that
I have the strength to survive this. I force myself away from the window and out into the
castle. My parents are in town so I figure it's a good time to go and explore, after all I
only promised my mother I wouldn't leave the castle. I never promised I wouldn't get
into trouble inside of it.
After awhile I see the entrance to the west tower. I've never been up there before,
excitement bubbles within me as I climb the stone steps of the tower and open the old
wooden door. Inside is an old maid with something that looks like a round wheel with
silk attached to it.
Q
I
"Hello Princess, it's so nice to see you on this lovely day." She says through a
toothy grin.
"It's lovely to see you too. May I please ask what you're doing?"
"Child have you never seen a spinning wheel before? It spins silk and cloth so
you can make dresses out of them."
I smile as an idea blossoms in my head "may I please try itT
"Well of course Princess just be careful ..."
She's too late though; I've already pricked my finger. My mind becomes cloudy,
I feel tired. I can barely see the maids petrified face as the world slips away.
I awake in a field of daisies. I'm in a clearing surrounded by a lush green forest
and an infinite blue sky. Then I see him Aidan looking more handsome than ever. He
smiles at me
"Hey Rose I've missed you."
I spend a life time in that forest with him before one day he looks at me sadly and
says "It's time for you to go now Rose." I look at him puzzled for a moment before hat
familiar feeling comes over me again. My mind becomes cloudy Aidan's face becomes a
blur as the ground beneath me opens up and the world slips away from me again. This
time I awake to a pair of unfamiliar and stunningly beautiful sky blue eyes.
That was a year ago today. I awoke to a man named Prince Phillip and no sooner
than did my eyes flutter open did my parents come bursting into my room with tears of
joy streaming down their faces. My mother finally explained to me that when I was born
a wicked fairy cast a curse over me stating that when I was sixteen I would die from the
prick of a spindle. One of the good fairies reversed the curse so that I, along with
HI
everyone in the castle, would be asleep until a Prince with a pure heart broke the spell
with a kiss. I was understandably a little confused and upset that my parents had kept this
from me. I slept through a hundred years before Phillip found me.
We were married soon after my joyful awakening. It wasn't easy, my kingdom
had changed and I was still heartbroken and in love with Aidan who had passed away by
now. It was hard to accept that I would never see him again. But Phillip was patient and
kind. His hair was light brown, his smile sincere and devoid of any hint of arrogance.
He was a romantic, but he was also strong, he practiced both archery and sword fighting.
He was tall and muscular just like Aidan. But, his heart was pure and full of love not
only for me but also, for our people. He was domestic he didn't feel restless after being
in one place for too long.
I eventually grew to love him not only for saving me but because he was an
amazing man and he made me happy. It would be a lie to say that my thoughts don't stm
drift to Aidan from time to time because they still do. He was my first love and I'll never
see him again. I only hope had as much happiness and love as I do now. I hope that he
found a love that made him happy in ways that I never would have been able too. I hope
he died without any regrets just like I have none now. I had an entire lifetime with Aidan
even if it was only a dream it was enough.
I'm not the same sixteen-year-old girl who craves freedom anymore. I no longer
see my title as a cage that suffocates me. Besides, I've had enough adventure for a
lifetime and my mother was right I never had to leave the castle to find it.
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Name: Brady Jackson
Instructor: Miroslav Penkov
Course: ENGL 3140 1 Intermediate Creative Writing
Date: 3115/12
A retelling of Gilgamesh, but focused on the introduction. In the story, Enkidu is created as a perfect
companion for Gilgamesh, the scornful king of Uruk. Enkidu is a man that lives with the wild, but has the
strength of a god. A shepherd was the first to come across Enkidu, and he informs Gilgamesh of this man.
Gilgamesh then wins Enkidu over to civilization by means of a harlot. They become friends and embark on
dangerous journeys together. Enkidu later dies, which then sends Gilgamesh on a quest for immortality that
he will fail to complete. Misfortune follows him from then on, and Enkidu speaks to him one last time at the
end of this epic, from the underworld.
The Shepherd! The Beast! The Whore!
The farm is yellow and gradually burning from the sun, yet its pond is still
the largest water-hole within a day's reach. Maintenance of the farm has lost
hope, and with rain at a scarcity, the lack of labor has dealt many deaths to the
crops. The farm-house stands strong, but it crumbles with cries for repair. And the
sheep made their escape during the last dust storm; the fencing that caged them
will forever remain in the dirt. The Shade Tree has lost a few leaves but, its roots
are thankfully within the pond. So for as long as the pond can thrive on sporadic
rainfall, The Shade Tree will be all right. But it will be the beast-the beast that
will ruin everything.
The wild man and the army of gazelles make their way toward the water.
Harpin Larkhil has been studying the animalistic prowess of this man for days
over. How he struts into the farm with the sun on its rise. How he laps from the
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drinking-hole and swallows up the grass. And with the strongest of beasts at his
enlistment how he demolishes the traps set for game, freeing those entrapped.
This wild beast, this wild man. Harpin has fallen obsessed. Harpin cannot stop
watching this beast, and he wants to know how it feels to run freely. As he stalks
them in hiding, Harpin daydreams of a life in the wild. Second in command would
be an ideal advancement. Running, stealing, showering mayhem upon his father's
dying farm. Harpin dreams of communication with the beasts and a shared
camaraderie in fooling the hunters, and playing games as the game. And feasting
on raw flesh!
The Shade Tree lives on the south side of the pond, and its branches are
well matured, full of life and strength. Harpin has no quarrel in bearing his weight
upon the musculature of The Shade Tree. He feels safe. He sits, perched within
the leaves and limbs. He is frozen by the wild man flaunting down the pasture,
minions at the heels. They frequent the depleting water-hole too often, terrorizing
the farm's standards. The weaker beasts shake in anticipation as they await their
authority's permission. But he measures each and every sip, and takes his time.
His power is like nothing Harpin has ever experienced.
This is the moment, Harpin decides, as the gazelles advance into the
water. This shall be his introduction. The fall from the tree is a heroic one, and he
makes an effort in disguising the trauma to his feet and ankles. He kneels in a
faked romanticism, staring at the crisp, yellow grass, relishing the excitement,
unaware of the tremor his feet sent through the earth as he made impact. Harpin
can hear the trembling legs of the gazelle partially dipped in the water. He senses
a glare smothering over him. He raises his eyes to the sight of a brawny pair of
callused feet, dampened and dirtied with mud. And a heady breath makes contact
with his neck, stiffening the hair follicles. He isn't welcome here, he realizes. Not
in their time of bath and relinquish. How could he evoke such hatred?
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Harpin makes eye contact and deli vers his desperate attempt at making
mends. "Oh Lord," he says, "I am so sorry, I never intended to frighten, I've been
watching you, you see-"
He says, "I've fallen mad over the sight of you, you see." He says, "I
cannot believe I've disrupted your visit. I am such a damned fool, [ am."
"Please" he says, "spare me."
The beast grunts, snarls, grits his teeth, and digs his toes into the rigid
earth. The robust frame of his chest heaves outward, constricts, and then repeats
itself in concentrated breaths. Harpin basks in fear and awe and suspense and-in
a whiplash-he is held a few feet above the ground basking in the introduction of
two beautiful grey eyes-slightly glazed, scarred, and undeniably tired. The beast
clenches the collar of Harpin's linen shirt, and with the sudden upheaval of
Harpin's body, he's planted a thick gash in the upper lip. Every movement this
creature makes is swift, and confident. A subtle growl unburies from the wild
man's breath, which smothers Harpin's nose with the smell of soil and possibly
death. Worry sets in.
The father finds his son hanging from The Shade Tree the following
morning. The dwindling down of the farm's production has sent the father into a
slumber. He fails to approach each day with anything but leisure. Watching the
farm die slowly has become his hobby, and the help he's received from the
marauding animals he has taken with light. They come early and he enjoys
watching their raid, so on the occasional morning he forces himself out of bed so
that he can sit in his chair by the window and watch them with deference. An
enjoyable tradition, but one that occurs too seldom. On this morning of 2750
BeE, three days since he'd last made it to the window in time, the father is shaken
by the sight of not marauders, but a human body dangling from The Shade Tree,
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swaying in the wind. His throat squeaks. His teeth clench. He kicks his chair back
as he stands up. The man steps into a run and throws his body into the front door,
breaking the barrier between him and the outside world. Sprinting towards his son
he whimpers at the thought of death. A shout of frustration catches dirt in his
mouth as he trips over his trudging feet. His legs are weak from sleep and
laziness, but he clambers on until he has made it to the pond.
The young boy's face is battered and swollen and where blood has not
been dried, the face is pale. At the sight of him the father cowers; he struggles to
lift his hand and touch his son, for fear of the worse. It's only the linen shirt from
which Harpin has been suspended from, but his lifeless neck and frame still worry
the father.
At the touch of his son's hand he softens his voice.
"My boy-Harpin, my boy?"
"Pap ... " Harpin says to him, through a hoarse throat. A sound that waters
the father's eyes.
With the back of his hands he wipes away the tears, desperate to see his
son clearly. The father takes hold of the boy's arms which pulse with warm blood.
He looks into the anguished face of his son who is unable to adjust to the daylight.
His lips are cracked and peeled. "My boy," he says, bringing his son into an
embrace, shouting into his chest, "Oh my boy!"
"Who's done this to you," the father says. "I thought you'd been killed!"
"Help me-please," Harpin mutters.
The father lifts his son and pulls, but struggles to unhinge the collar of the
shirt. "Hold tight, boy," he says. He pulls and hangs his weight towards the
ground until the shirt rips free. They topple down onto the grass together. Harpin
pushes his father away from him and tries to stand up.
"I'm fine, Papa, I'm all right."
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"Son, tell me who did this."
"I was climbing. I fell, and that is all."
"But your face. You look as if you've been bludgeoned!"
Harpin sighs and crouches down by the water's edge. He splashes water
upon his face and scrubs off the blood as best he can. He pauses to look at his
reflection, and turns his head from side to side to survey the damage. Over his
shoulder his father is looking down at him. Harpin cups his hands together and
gulps the liquid.
"How long had you been hanging there, son?"
He continues, "It was that man. The man who runs like an animal. It was
that man who did this to you. The man who destroys my work and eats our
vegetables! He's done this to you, has he?"
Still in crouch, Harpin lowers his face to the water until his nose is
touching the surface. He begins lapping up the water as the wild man would, with
his tongue. He feels as if he cannot respond to his father's accusation. Now that
he's become acquainted with the wild man, he sees himself different than before.
Stronger. He has looked into the eyes of his obsession and survived.
"I'll kill him, son. Mark my word," the father says, "Son, I will wait here,
and if he shall return I will kill him-and while I wait, you will go to the city of
Uruk, the city that is ruled by Gilgamesh. Created by Aruru, he is only a third of a
man, and the rest of him is god. Go to him son, ask him to bestow his strength
upon this farm, and expel this beast from our lives. I will ask you to do that, and
then you will have some rest."
Harpin agrees to what his father has requested of him. He has realized his
destiny. He will go to Uruk, but he will do this for reasons of his own.
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The city of Uruk whispers under its breath. Talk is spread through the
streets of a king that kidnaps the sons of men. Withholds them and raises them as
his own. A king that sleeps with the virgins. Sleeps with them before the husbands
will have chance to consummate. This king before them, this king of arrogance
and power beyond his control. Curses have spread through the city, and the cries
for change have been heard by the gods. The gods speak to his creator, Aruru.
Request that she create an equal to this king. To create a man for which
Gilgamesh may contend with and share his power; bringing peace to Uruk.
The king awakes from his dream. All of Uruk was collapsing, the people
were crying, and he, the king, felt responsible. Gilgamesh is disturbed by this
dream. He has never felt this notion of remorse, and he seeks an answer for why
this is happening to him. Ninsun, his mother, is waiting in the dining room. She
was informed by the gods that this day would come.
Ninsun listens to her son describe this dream to her. She accepts the
sorrow, and she says to Gilgamesh, "My son, the answer to this dream lies in the
hands of the shepherd. He is less than three hundred steps from the gates of the
city just now."
"How do you know this? What is this shepherd's name?"
"Go son. Meet him now, at the gates. I believe this shepherd has found
your answer."
She speaks to him with sincerity. This gentle command lifts him up from
the dining area, and sends him off towards the door. Gilgamesh repeats the
exchange with his mother in his head as he departs down the palace steps. His
determination shows in his narrowed brows and in the way he looks each of the
city folk in the eyes, darting from one to another. But the desperate frown on his
face tells of his confusion. This expression causes the people to stand by as their
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ruler walks about them. They see something different in him. Their king appears
to be uncertain.
When Gilgamesh reaches the gates, they have already been opened. A boy
stands just outside them. Gilgamesh walks forward at a steady pace.
"Is this the shepherd?" he calls out.
He thinks he hears a confirmation.
"And your name?" he asks.
Harpin Larkhil recites his name.
And so Harpin begins, "I have come to offer you a service."
Gilgamesh advances closer.
"Our farm is dying and with the presence of a beast we have lost hope.
This man lives with the animals and walks as if he is one himself. He told me his
name was Enkidu, and then he hung me by collar. He has the power of a god. I
think he can be of service to you. A companion, I might add."
Gilgamesh repeats his mother's words to himself. And these words of the
shepherd begin thereafter.
"Why do you tell me this," he asks.
"Because I wish to take his place with the beasts. To claim his role. Ruler
of The Wild. I have been told what you are, and I ask that you grant me this wish.
And if you do," Harpin says, "you may take this beast."
"This proposal benefits you greatly, doesn't it?" Gilgamesh says.
"Would you believe that yours may benefit greater?"
Gilgamesh doesn't answer. "I was informed of your arrival. I was told that
you would have the answer to my dream," he admits.
And Harpin smiles, "Well then, the beast must be your answer."
8
The harlot rides on the mule and Harpin carries the rope. Walking
alongside the animal he feels as if he's stepping into the role already. As if the
brute is moving out of respect.
He says to the whore, "After seven days of lust, the animals will despise
Enkidu, and at that time the whore will take him to the city. And as the king said,
that is when I, Harpin Larkhil will become Ruler of The Wild."
She says nothing. Her head bobs with the strut of her mule.
"Remember those words," he says.
They walk for several days in silence afterward. Until approaching the
farm, when the harlot speaks, "This beast will benefit the king?"
"Surely."
They approach the pond and make their way toward The Shade Tree. The
father is nowhere in sight. Harpin calls to him. The state of things appear
unchanged, as if the farm had been abandoned as soon after he left. He calls
again to his father. The farm house shakes with the wind. Harpin heads toward the
rattled horne and calls once more. When he reaches the busted door, he walks on
through the doorway to find the single room in the house empty. Touching the
back of his neck, he feels an absence. He is alone. He cannot help but pity his
father, though. To face the wild man like that, to face Enkidu! And for him to
think that he would prevail against him.
The wild man is standing in the pasture when Harpin exits the house. He
looks to be staring at Harpin. An understanding exists between them, and Harpin
feels his first tinge of a connection with nature.
The whore is unclothed and displayed, submerged to the calf in the pond.
The beast shifts his gaze, cocks his head to the side, and becomes entranced with
this woman. He walks to her. He circles around her. Unsure if she's prey.
"And so the seven days of lust begin," Harpin says aloud.
9
This beast will ruin the king's life. And Harpin knows this. He doesn't
remember being told, but he feels as if this knowledge was given to him. A gift
from the gods. He considers that thought, and then he lets it go.
He wishes the farm good health, and then he looks into his wild.
Taylor Jakovich
Miroslav Penkov
English 3140
15/3/12
Judas, We Hardly Knew Ye
"One of you will betray me." The words hung in the air like with the foulness
of a decaying animal carcass. Judas' eye frantically jumped from one disciple to the
next, hoping
praying - to find a hint of guilt in someone's eyes other than his own. He
searched in desperation, but it was too late, he'd already made the deal.
At his seat at the long table he could see all the other men's faces. Most
importantly, though, he could see Jesus' face. He looked different than he had three years
ago. His once entrancing emerald eyes now stared lifelessly down the table, straight into
Judas. His cheeks sunk into his pasty white face, his robes swallowed his ever-dwindling
frame. Though just thirty-three, the persecutions of man fell heavily on him, causing him
to look much older. He was growing tired.
Judas too was growing tired. He had been following Jesus for three years now.
Spreading the word, teaching good news, saving people. But from what? He looked at
the feast spread out before them- fragrant wine flowing in abundance, crisp brown loafs
of bread, fire cooked fish steaming on their plates - none of it their own. The people they
were saving, were in tum saving them, keeping them from starving as they went from
place to place. Judas grasped at the 30 silver coins in his pockets, careful not to let them
1
clash together loudly. It was the most money he'd held in years. "30 measly coins," he
thought, "yet I'm richer than everyone here."
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, "everyone of them."
The eleven disciples could do nothing. They were paralyzed. By fear of losing
their Lord and their teacher, but mainly they were paralyzed by disbelief. They couldn't
fathom that one of them, someone sitting among them right at that moment, could do
such a thing. To betray the man they had left everything for, the man they'd spent years
with learning from, a man they loved, the Son of God. Breaking the intolerable silence,
Peter asked, "Surely not I, Lord?"
Judas found it sickening how much Peter kissed up to Jesus. He was always
the first to agree with whatever Jesus said, the first to offer himself at any cost. Judas
personally couldn't understand their shock. It wasn't as if this was news to them. Jesus
had been predicting his death for some time now, but even then Peter had jumped at the
chance to protect his Lord, to stop any evil that should occur. Judas burned through Peter
with his gaze from across the table. Peter was perched at Jesus' side, holding onto every
word and every breath that came out of Jesus' mouth. Loose skin wiggled underneath his
robes and spilled out the sides. Even after three years of starving themselves and walking
non-stop, evidence remained of his old glutinous ways. He claimed that as soon as Jesus
found him and said to follow him, he had. Just like that. Left his faults behind and started
new. Judas wished he could do this now. Wished he could have done it then. Instead he
had his own plans for following Jesus - plans of wealth and fame.
2
;'
..,.- -
,o'~ 0.­
r,
--­
The disciples followed Jesus for three years. For three years Judas tolerated the
ridicule of the people, the hatred from the high priests, the torture they were put through
for the message they were preaching. He waited. He waited for his chance - his time to
shine. He was sure that any day, the people would change their views and follow them
and when that day would come, he would be divine. But the people continued to laugh.
The rulers still persecuted them. Wealth and fame remained out of his grasp.
The other disciples began asking Jesus one by one if they would be his betrayer.
Judas' stomach ripped at itself with each delicate "no". If there was one thing Judas
had learned in his three years under Jesus, it was that he knew all. There was no hiding
anything from him. He knew every dark secret you had, every terrible thought or unholy
desire. But in his knowing, he never judged, never thought ill of someone. Judas had so
many of these thoughts and ideas in his head it was a wonder Jesus asked him to be his
follower at all. He drank from his glass of wine trying desperately to avoid asking the
question that made its way towards him. Deathly silence told him it had arrived. "Surely
not I, rabbi?" he tried as he looked anywhere except into Jesus' eyes. He didn't need to
hear the answer. He already knew.
30 silver coins. The price ofa man's life. The price of the Son of God's life. But
30 silver coins was more than Judas had seen in ages. He'd waited long enough for his
wealth and fame to come. He was done waiting. Jesus told them of his inevitable death.
He knew what was coming.
"This shall never happen to you!" was Peter's response as Jesus told of his fate.
3
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Judas fought hard to suppress the smile forming at the edges of his lips as Jesus cursed
him.
"Get thee behind me Satan," Jesus demanded "You are a stumbling block to me;
you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns." He was
shaking. As Judas watched the scene unfold, he noticed something he'd not seen before
in Jesus
fear. He was scared. It seemed absurd to Judas that a man could willingly be
put to death. And yet, there Jesus stood, afraid, but at peace. Judas then saw something
else. Something bigger, an opportunity. Jesus would be put to death no matter what,
Judas determined, so why should I not take advantage ofit? He knew what Jesus
represented. The Romans despised him, people ridiculed him, yet he was still The King
of Jews. The Son of God. The Great I Am. Judas saw the fame and wealth within his
reach. He saw his name written out for ages to come
The Betrayer of Jesus Christ.
Jesus took the wine they had been drinking, tell his men to drink it in
remembrance of him, to think of the blood he would spill as a sacrifice for the world's
sins. The wine tasted like vinegar on Judas' lips, it's previously sweet taste now
unbearable. His insides ripped at themselves. The 11 men surrounding him now knew the
secret he and Jesus had shared. The secret Jesus had kept to himself. Judas didn't
understand how even as he knew this, he had let him sit at his table and drink his wine.
He didn't understand his compassion. He traced the outlines of the coins with his finger.
30 silver coins. He was rich. Soon, he'd be famous. Soon, Jesus would be gone and the
tearing guilt would be gone too, he thought. He hoped.
Jesus broke the bread they had been eating and told them to eat it in remembrance
4
of him. To represent the body he sacrificed for the world. Judas did not eat. "Soon"
could not come soon enough for him. But it would be over. All would be right. It was all
a part of God's plan. He took comfort in this for a moment, however fleeting it was. This
was not my doing, he repeated to himself. This was God's plan.
5
Bryan Nimmo
English 3140 section 003
Intermediate Creative Writing
Professor Miroslav Penkov
March 15t h, 2012
The Monster is Slain
The intruder lunges forward and swings his sword right at my face. I try to cry for
mercy, to raise my hands in defense; but it is too late. Wham. My entire body jolts from
the impact. My world spins, and I topple sideways toward the earth.
Time seems to slow down as I fall. I have time to think, before I land. A torrent
of memories spring to my mind, a rapid succession of sights and sounds and feelings
from across my entire life. Yet of all possible thoughts, the one which stays in primary
focus is: why must it have been like this?
I have but a dim recollection of my childhood. I suppose I must have had a
mother and father, but I never knew them. All my life, the only land I saw was my own
home: a cave, and some ruins. The cavern was a single small room which seemed hewn
out of the mountainside by force, as if some titan had scooped it out with cyclopean
hands. Inside were some furnishings, a rough bed and a few sticks ofbatlered old
furniture. I do not know where they came from, nor who made them. Outside my cave
are the remnants of an ancient building. Perhaps it was a temple, or a mighty seat of
government; all that was left now was a line of stubby broken pillars.
My only companions were my sisters, Stheno and Euryale. They did not live with
me, but instead only visited. On occasion they would stop by, bringing me food and
assuring themselves that I was safe. They had wings, but I did not; that never seemed fair
to me. But I knew they were my blood kin, for their hair held the same peculiar qualities
as my own.
"Littlest sister Medusa," they would say, ''you must stay hidden here. You must
never venture into the outside world. You are the only one of us who is mortal, and
vulnerable to harm; and the only one to bear the unique curse of your face. If you walked
among the humans, your gaze would wreak havoc among them; and they would surely
slay you."
"But dear sisters," I would plead, "can I not go out even the slightest distance? I
am so alone here, with none but you to see and hear. I would not cause havoc! I would
pass quietly through the night, quiet as a moth. None would ever know I was even there."
"They would know," Stheno would reply with bitterness. "Humans have a great
gift for throwing themselves into the path of danger. No, youngest, you must stay here.
We could not bear your passing. As the heel was to Achilles, so are you to our family."
This was a frequent saying of hers, but I did not know who Achilles was. And despite
their claims of great attachment, they never stayed long enough to ease my loneliness.
My world still spins. I try to reach down to catch my fall, but my hands refuse to
obey. I smack nose-first into the hard ground of my cave. My mouth opens in automatic
reflex to shout in pain, but it makes no sound. I keep tumbling forward, over and over
again. I wonder when I shall stop.
2
I was still young when I first saw a man. It was just past nightfall when I heard
the crunch of footsteps in the gravel outside my cave. I turned, perplexed; it was far too
soon since my sisters' last visit for them to return already. And the sound of the footsteps
was wrong, somehow. I picked up the single flickering torch which lit my room, and
walked outside to investigate.
On the way out, I heard the murmuring of voices. Strange voices! They spoke
the same language as myself, yet these were not my sisters! I stopped in my tracks, both
terrified and fascinated. Who were these beings? What did they want? And underneath
it all, a deep yeaming: was my eternal solitude finally at an end?
As they drew closer, I could hear some of their words. "This should be it," one
said. "Watch yourselves in there. Even if this Medusa is mortal, as the oracle told us, she
still has a Gorgon's fangs and claws."
"And the snakes!" said another voice, higher and more breathy than the first.
"Don't forget the snakes!"
"And the gods-damned snakes," the first voice agreed in a surly tone. "Quiet,
now. This should be it."
Their last words filled me with confusion. How did these strangers know about
me? Had they met my sisters? Remembering my siblings' vocal disdain for humans,
they had probably not made a good first impression. I racked my brain for reassuring
words to greet them with, when the first man stepped inside.
He was huge, nearly twice my height. A thick lion's mane of hair encircled his
head, complimented by a ragged beard; I stared in wonder, all other thoughts lost for the
3
moment. This was the first time I had ever seen proper hair. His clothing was odd,
unnatural; why, it looked as if it were made of metal! I saw the shadows of other men
behind him, creeping forward, far behind their leader. What strange guests! I tried to
smile with my mouth closed, not to show my fangs, as I greeted my new acquaintances.
I heard his breath hiss as he spotted me, and I looked up into his eyes. They were
wide and wild. As they were the first human eyes I had ever seen, I was not sure what
emotion they expressed. It turned out that I had little time to guess. As we locked gazes,
the man staggered backwards as if struck. His mouth opened wide, too wide, and he
uttered a mad howl which chilled me to the bone.
And then he... changed.
The others fled in heedless terror, abandoning their comrade. I sank to the floor,
bewildered and afraid. What had happened? I waited, still and quiet, for an answer
which never came. Long hours passed in silence. For a while I wept; then I hid in my
bed, blanket over my face, not daring to look at the thing at the door of my cave. The
man did not move; indeed, he never moved again. He had turned into solid stone, with
his final grimace of terror still frozen upon his craggy face.
That was how I met my first friend.
I finally stop tumbling along the floor. I gasp for air, but the breath has been
knocked entirely from my body. I cannot move. Yet my snakes move; they thrash as
they've never thrashed before, whipping and hissing and snapping in mindless fury. They
are wriggling so fiercely that my head lolls back and forth, and the walls of my cave seem
to shake with dizzying speed.
4
I was never fond of my hair. I envied the hair of men. From what I could tell,
human hair was merely limp dead stuff, as lively and feeling as dead weeds ripped from
the ground. It seemed easily groomed and trained, and would stay in one place until
rearranged. Mine was more problematic. The snakes which were rooted to my head
certainly had minds of their own. I could, with concentration, control them; but any
moment my thoughts strayed or my emotions got the better of me, the serpents would
become wild and free, biting at anything within reach.
I did not have to feed them; they seemed to live offmy own body's sustenance.
That was at least a mild blessing. The mere thought of having to individually supply each
one with its own meals was exhausting. They were enough trouble as it was, forever
getting coiled and tangled among each other. Whenever two got tied in a knot, freeing
them was never fun. When enraged, they would even bite my own hands. I was immune
to their venom, but taking care of them forever left me with hands that looked as though
I'd thrust them into a thorn bush.
I still cannot move. Spots appear before my eyes. It feels as though a great
weight is crushing my chest. I try to look around, to see where my attacker is; but my
view of him is blocked by one of my older friends.
For some time, the statue which had once been a man stood alone outside my
cave. I had dragged it out into the ruins, unable to bear the thOUght of his sightless eyes
peering at me while I slept. As time passed, I lost my fear of him, and even grew to view
5
him as almost a companion. I chatted with the statue about all subjects, and imagined his
clever and witty replies. I suppose that I was perhaps a little mad, but a long enough term
of solitary existence is enough to drive anyone to madness. My sisters were displeased
upon discovering my new friend, seeming ill at ease. Their visits grew shorter and more
seldom.
My lone friend was eventually joined by others. Men came searching for me as
the years passed by; men with weapons and stem faces. Yet each encounter was
identical. As soon as they met my eyes, they were turned into cold dead stone. Some had
complex visors over their face, or held magical talismans of protection; but it did not
matter. My gaze was eminently democratic. It treated all men equally.
After their transformation, I pulled each one to join my growing collection among
the ruined pillars. I conversed with them, imagining great discourses back and forth
between them. I named them all, imbued each with his own personality. When the rains
began to etch away at their faces, I spent long hours fashioning hats to keep their features
dry.
My sister Gorgons mocked me for this during their rare visits, calling me a silly
little girl. They looked upon the group of statues with uneasiness. "No good will come
of this," said Euryale. "They are as good as a signpost to announce your presence to other
men. You should throw them off a cliff and crush them into dust."
"No!" I shrieked, horrified. "These are my friends!"
"Strange friends, to come into your home with drawn swords," Stheno said.
"Beware, Medusa. These men had comrades, and brothers, and sons. Someday those
others may come looking for you, and you may not fare so well."
6
"Then let them come," I said. "They will join their comrades and brothers and
fathers, and remain together forever. Is that not kindness, of a sort?" My sisters looked at
me with uncomprehending eyes, and said nothing in return.
I hear the hateful intruder creeping forward with slow, cautious steps. I still
cannot see him. I still cannot force my limbs to make any movement at all. I blink, and
the mere effort to flutter my eyelids seems like trying to move mountains. My snakes'
frenzy is abating, their movements becoming slow and sluggish.
I try to tell the man "I only wanted to love you," but not even the barest hint of
breath passes my lips.
Countless years went by. 1 grew to adulthood, but ceased any further aging.
Apparently we Gorgons do not become old and feeble as men do; this was just one of
many things my sisters never bothered to explain. I only know the difference now
because ofthe strangest of chance encounters, when 1 met my best friend of all.
It was storming that night, a ceaseless fury of thunder which made me wonder if
Zeus himself were hurling his lightning at my home. The noise kept me from sleeping,
and I paced through the columns of the ruins in boredom and insomniac frustration.
Turning a comer, my breath caught in my throat; a man was laying on the path in front of
me, unmoving in the freezing rain.
My hair hissed in anger at this sudden surprise, but I kept still and watched. After
several minutes, he still had made no movement. He appeared quite different from the
fierce warriors who usually trespassed here; his head was bald, his face lined with age.
7
Instead of annor he wore a shabby toga, and instead of a sword his hand clutched a
broken walking-stick. A large sack hung from his back, wrapped tight with leaves. His
eyes were closed, and I could just barely see his chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his
breath.
I still cannot explain the curious impulse which then took hold of me. I tore two
strips of cloth from his toga, quickly fashioned a tight fold over his eyes and tied his
hands behind his back. Then I took hold of him while very strictly ordering my snakes
not to strike his helpless flesh and pulled him out of the rain and into my cave.
He was soaked to the skin and cool to the touch. I pulled off his rags and placed
him next to my fire, covering him with my blanket. Afterwards, I was not sure what to
do; so I sat behind him, hoping that ifhe suddenly awoke that he could not slip out of his
binds and look upon my face without warning. Opening his sack, I pulled out a large clay
jar filled with some very odd objects; long, tightly-rolled pieces of thin flimsy material
covered with strange markings. I puzzled over the meaning of these scrolls, while
awaiting his awakening.
Hours later, with a great racking cough, the man suddenly sat upright. "Where am
I?" he demanded, with a booming voice. "Who has bound me? You have nothing to fear
from me. I am but a blind old poet."
I had never heard the words blind or poet. I said, "You are in my home. I have
rescued you from the storm. I mean you no hann, but you cannot yet remove your
bindings. None may look upon me."
He laughed, a sharp barking sound. "That is not something you shall need to
demand. I have seen nothing for many years. As I said, I am blind." Suddenly he
8
straightened, struggling against his bonds. "My satchel! Where is my satchel?"
"It is here, safe and unharmed," I said, in what I hoped was a calming tone. His
struggling ceased. "But what are these things within it? I have never seen their like."
"They are books!" he thundered. "They are the knowledge ofthe ages! Return
them to me." Here he ceased for a moment, interrupted by a series of ugly wet coughs.
Finally he resumed: "They are precious and frail. Even though I can no longer read them,
it is my mission to carry their wisdom to the unlearned."
"You have clearly found an unlearned," I said wryly. Wishing to calm the man, I
replaced the "books" in their container and placed it upon his lap. "But tell me, what do
you mean by blind?"
"You do not know that?" he said in disbelief. "It means that I cannot see. My
eyes have long ago ceased their proper function."
I sat still. I said nothing. I dared not even breathe. Could such a thing be
possible? Could I have found someone who might remain flesh and blood under my
merciless gaze? Forcing myself into movement, I reached with supreme gentleness and
removed the cloth from his face. Underneath, his eyes were a pale, dead white. They did
not focus upon me, lolling back and forth with erratic randomness.
I stared directly into them, and he did not turn to stone.
He coughed again. "If you are convinced of my infirmity, then I would like to beg
you for something warm to eat or drink. The rain has given me a fearsome cold."
"Yes, yes, of course!" I sputtered, jumping to my feet and untying his hands.
"You will share in all that I have. I apologize for my treatment of you. I live alone here,
and have come to mistrust strange men."
9
"I understand," he grunted, stifling another cough. "What is your name?"
1 panicked. Some men knew my name! This blind man could not learn who 1 am,
what 1 am! "I. .. have no name," 1 said, telling the first lie of my life. "I have never
needed one. What is yours?"
Massaging his wrists, the man said: "Call me Horner."
Closer and closer, my assailant creeps towards me. 1 must get up. 1 must fight
back. 1 must look at him, or else all is lost. 1 desperately try to flail my arms, my legs,
even my hair; but none move an inch.
The following days with Horner were the most wondrous of my life. He had been
traveling from one land to another, and had lost his guide and his path in the storm. He
had taken ill in the freezing rain, but in the dry warmth of my cave he recovered.
Fortunately, my sisters had recently visited, so 1 had plenty of food; even more
fortunately, they would not soon return and catch me with my forbidden guest.
He was a teacher; 1 had not even known what a teacher was, nor that my life had
sorely lacked them. He seemed to know everything about everything, lecturing to me on
a bewildering array oftopics. He spoke to me of poetry, and art; he sang ballads about
gods and heroes, wars and journeys of unbelievable scale.
1 will never forget the day he spoke to me the strangest word, a word 1 had never
heard: "love". As he described it, defining its properties and explaining at great length all
its various incarnations, 1 felt my heart leap with joy. This was it! This was all 1 had ever
wanted, what 1 had sadly tried to wring from my stone companions. Love! 1 immediately
10
knew that I loved Homer, and 1 told him as much. His cheeks colored with
embarrassment. "That is, perhaps, rather premature," he said. "I do not even know what
you look like."
"Nor shall you, ever," I laughed, feeling giddy and playful.
"There is a method," he said, "by which I can. 1 notice that you have never
allowed me to touch you in any way, so I have not yet asked. But I ask now. Let me
touch your face, and 1 can see you just as easily as most men do with their eyes."
1 was silent for a moment. If this were true, would he freeze into rock when his
hands were placed upon me? But surely it couldn't work like that. "Very well," 1 said.
"But stand still with your arms outstretched, and 1 will step into your hands. Touch only
my face. Not my hair, nor anything else."
"You are a very strange woman," he muttered, but he agreed to my terms.
I moved closer, and then suddenly remembered my fangs. "'I have ... unusual
teeth," I stammered. "They grow long and sharp in my family."
"Yes, fine," he said, losing patience. "Come here now."
1 stepped forward, closing my eyes, pressing my face into his hands. 1
concentrated on my snakes like 1 had never concentrated before, willing them to hold
themselves silent and still, away from his touch. His fingers caressed my skin in a most
graceful fashion, and my whole body wanted to tremble. It was the first time I'd felt the
warm skin of another living being, save for the cold and uncaring claws of my sisters.
After a moment's deliberation, he said: "Yes, the teeth are fearsome. But the rest of your
visage is quite lovely, if I'm any judge."
I felt that I would melt away under his lovely words. Never had I been so merry,
11
so blessed, so love.
The footsteps stop. He is standing right over me. Any second I expect that
dreadful sword to slash down again, this time ending my life. I try to beg, but now even
my mouth will not move. My nemesis bends down, and something round and shiny
enters my field of vision. With a shock, I realize that I am looking into my own face.
Those magical days with Homer, alas, ended far too soon. After a week in my
care, he had almost completely recovered. Upon our last day together, he was telling me
legends of monsters. He had an endless knowledge of such creatures, and I delighted in
his seemingly infinite number of tales.
"In fact, that's one reason why I'm in these lands," he said. "In this locality, there
dwell a trio of daemonic sisters known as the Gorgons. I'm rather surprised that you live
this close to their lair!"
My body went cold. "The Gorgons never trouble me," I said, truthfully. "They
keep to themselves."
"For the sake of humanity, I wish it were so," he sighed. "No, they have killed
many men." He went on for a while, telling of all the men who had been slaughtered at
their claws, of the legions of weeping orphans and widows left behind. My stomach
clenched at this description, but I did not interrupt him; I sat spellbound by his horrific
tale.
"I was supposed to meet with a young hero named Perseus," he eventually said,
"who is supposedly on a quest to kill one of them. If he succeeds, it makes for a rousing
12
story. He's said to be a son of Zeus himself; notthat such a lineage is anything special,
considering how many bastard progeny that dirty old god has fathered. But this fellow
Perseus is said to be something different; a true hero."
I tried to quell the nervous feelings his words inspired, but I was becoming
agitated. Who was this hero? Was he coming for me, even now? Did he have some
special quality which all the previous aggressors had lacked?
Homer continued talking: "I hope the lad makes it. This devil he hunts by the
name of Medusa is said to be one of the worst fiends from the darkest pits of Hades. Men
say that her face is so hideous that one glance at her ugliness will tum a man to stone!"
Something within me snapped. 1 could not bear to hear any more; and 1 could not
bear for this hero to find Homer here with me. "Quiet, you old fool!" 1 cried. 1 grabbed
him by the arms, and lifted him over my head. He yelled in surprise at my inhuman
strength, but 1 was already running out of the cave and carrying him through the ruins.
"What in the name of Elysium is happening!" he bellowed, struggling futilely in
my grasp. "What are you?"
"I AM MEDUSA!" 1 screamed, and 1 felt his body go rigid in my hands. "I am
the monster of which you speak, and you cannot stay here!"
"No," he said, his voice faltering. "That cannot be true ..."
1 reached the path which led from my home towards a distant town, a path 1 had
never walked. I set him down on the road. "It is true," 1 growled. "See for yourself." 1
grabbed his hands, and pulled them into my hair. My control ofthe snakes was just
barely enough to keep them from biting him, but they writhed and coiled around his
hands. He shrieked, and fell backwards into the dirt.
13
"You are on the path to the next town," I told him, my heart breaking. "It is the
morning; you should follow it east towards the sun. Be gone, and do not return! Never
speak my name again!"
I turned, and ran away as fast as I could. I heard Homer behind me, pleading:
"No, please, wait!" but I did not listen. I ran all the way home, fully weeping by the time
I arrived.
The mysterious round, shining object is in front of me. I recognize it now: a
shield, polished so brightly that it casts a perfect reflection of everything in front of it.
Dazed, I study my own face: long sharp teeth, yes, and perhaps the skin is a bit too green.
But am I truly that ugly?
I look lower, and the sudden shock of realization stuns me to my souL I
understand now why I can't move my body.
It isn't there anymore.
I am now only a head, laying on the blood-soaked floor.
The hero Perseus snuck into my home the next night. I was a light sleeper at the
best of times, but now I was especially wary. As he entered the cave I sat up, but closed
my eyes.
"Wait," I said. "Please, stop. Do not do this. I do not wish you any harm."
I sensed him nearby, hesitating. "What sort of trick is this?" he demanded. His
voice sounded young; brave, but oh so young.
"No trick at all," I said. "I do not want to fight. 1 have never attacked anyone; yet
14
they all came for me anyway. I never asked to be born an enemy to men. I am merely
alone, and sad. I want to love people."
Silence from the hero. This was clearly not how he expected things to go. "Can
you please just ... go?" I begged him. "Go, and telJ all other men never to return? Please,
Perseus, please do this for me."
"How do you know my name?!" he screamed. "Foul beast!" I heard him step
forward. No! I have misjudged him. I had no other choice; I opened my eyes. But he
wasn't looking at me. He was instead staring at something in his left hand, something
round and shiny. In his right hand was a sword.
He lunged forward, and swung the sword right at my face.
My vision is going dim. Please, no, not like this! Gods, do not let my life end in
such a wretched fashion, without meaning or purpose!
My snakes lie limp and dead. Perseus grabs one of them, lifting what's left of me
off the floor. He stares at my reflection in his shield, and I stare back; such a youthful
face, more of a boy than a man. Then he lifts me towards an ominous-looking black bag.
I try to plead; but it is too late, everything is too late. He drops me in the bag.
All is dark inside, dark 1ike the midnight sky. I cannot hear anything. I cannot
feel anything. My thoughts grow slow. Please not yet, I pray. I am not ready. I did not
choose to be a monster. I could have changed. I had so much more I could have done.
I only wanted to love.
15
The Greek myth of Medusa is one with several different versions. Ovid and other classical
writers disagreed on many specifics. But a few details were always consistent: she was a monster
known as a Gorgon, she had snakes for hair, she could turn a man into stone with her gaze, and she was
beheaded by the hero Perseus, who avoided her lethal gaze by looking at her reflection. One final
common detail is that none of the ancient legends bothered to mention what Medusa herself thought
of her own life.
16
Jennifer Bennett
Miroslav Penkov
English 3140 Intermediate Creative Writing - Fiction - Spring 2012
March 15,2012
The story ofShim Chung, a Koreanfolktale, has been retold many times and is afavorite story
for demonstrating to young Korean girls the importance and rewards offilial duty. Shim
Chung's mother died in childbirth and her father, a blind man, begs for alms in order to raise
her. One day hefalls into a deep ditch and is rescued by a Buddhist monk who tells him that ifhe
gives 300 bushels ofrice to the temple, the monks will pray to Buddha to restore his sight. When
her father comes to his senses and realizes there is no way he can give such a sum, he falls into a
depression and Shim Chung, to save him, sells herselfas a sacrifice to the Sea Dragon in
exchange for the rice. When she throws herselfinto the sea, the Dragon sees her bravery and
admires her filial piety. He sends her back as a lotus blossom. Afishermanfinds her and brings
the blossom to the King. At night, Shin Chung is freed from the flower and when the King sees
her he falls in love and marries her. A banquet is held and blind men from all over the land are
invited to come. When her father arrives and hears her voice, his sight is returned
The Blind Man's Daughter
I held the lotus blossom carefully. It was milky and translucent, turning to pink at the tips
of its silky petals. My mistress, the magistrate's wife, had given it to me as a birthday gift out of
her garden. "You've done well, little Shim Chung," she told me. "The floors shine like new and
the cook says you've been a great help preparing for tonight's feast for the imperial minister.
You may go now and enjoy the rest of the day." She pressed the bloom into my hand along with
a parcel of honeyed sesame rice cakes. I thanked her for her kindness and tucked the cakes into
my pocket.
Bennett - 1
My steps were heavy as I walked along the shore path that led to my village; my mind
full of daydreams of what might have been. Today, fourteen years ago, I had been born and my
mother had died.
As I came over a rise, I saw a familiar flock of women scurrying over the sandy beach
like busy seagulls, sorting and counting their day's catch. Merry voices carried on the breeze.
White linen shifts fluttered against the sun browned stretch of their strong arms as they crouched
and reached. The braided coils of their hair were slick with seawater. Behind them, a foamy tide
lapped for their toes as if trying to reclaim what had been taken.
"Chung-ah," several women called to me in chorus. "Come, let us have a look at you."
I hurried forward, and then happily stood still for their inspections.
"Omo, our little Chung-ah has grown so tall," cried one. She stroked my long black
braids.
"But it is such a shame you are still so thin and weak," sighed another. Her firm hand
encircled my wrist. "How could a child fed at our own breasts grow to be such a delicate thing?"
"Not at all like your mother," lamented a third. "But you are a sweet child nonetheless,
and as pretty as that blossom you carry. Your eomma would have been proud to see how well
you care for your poor blind father."
These women were what my mother had been; one of the close circle of our village's
haenyeo, the women divers. They harvested abalone, octopus, sea urchins and other fine
delicacies from the ocean floor to sell at market. Their work began at sunrise and ended at
twilight each day for they were the hunters and gatherers - the providers for their husbands and
children, who tended the fields and animals. These women were strong and hearty. Although I
was born of one of them, I was not like them. My limbs were far too slender, my breath not
Bennett - 2
strong enough to swim to the depths needed to catch the rare fruit of the ocean. The tradition of
the dive was beyond me and I was lucky to have found work in the magistrate's household as a
maid. Without it, my father and I would be forced to do what we'd done since my mother's death
and my birth
beg. But still, these women cared for me and being near them gave me a sense of
who my mother might have been.
"Tell us, little Chung-ah," laughed the eldest of the haenyeo. "What news is there today
from the magistrate's residence?"
The others finished their sorting and gathered into a loose circle. Baskets ofjuicy
tangerines and savory balls of sticky barley rice were passed around and we began to eat.
"The household has been turned upside down by the arrival of a minister from the
imperial palace," I confided to them. Their weathered eyes opened wide.
"From the imperial palace?" They whispered among themselves. "Is he tall? Is he
handsome? Is he regal?"
"I have only seen him from a distance," I shook my head, "and he was surrounded by
many underlings. But the head housemaid whispered to me that he brought news ofthe young
emperor."
"Really?" they leaned toward me, mouths agape. "What news?"
Their rapt attention swelled my chest with pride. I raised my hands for dramatic effect.
My cheeks burned and my voice lowered. "The king is searching for a bride. It is said that he
seeks the purest and most beautiful of all the maidens in the empire."
"What he seeks," the boldest complained, "is the food from our mouths. Over half of
what we catch each day is taken by the magistrate and shipped to the imperial city. It is difficult
Bennett - 3
enough as it is to fill the quotas this time of year." The others waved her to silence. They feared
my youthful tongue might carelessly betray them.
"The currents are vicious this spring," the youngest haenyeo agreed. "The Great Sea
Dragon is unhappy. My older brother works at the docks and told me of a merchant ship soon
bound for return to the mainland. The storms nearly destroyed them on the journey here and their
captain has put out an offer of payment to the family of any maiden willing to sacrifice herself to
the Dragon in return for calm waters and safe passage for the next voyage."
"What?" the others scoffed in disbelief. "What maid would be willing to do such a
thing?"
The eldest haenyeo shuddered. "To lose her first and last kiss to the dark water ... it is
too cruel."
"Have you seen the dark water?" I asked. Evening's onset suddenly chilled and I tucked
the folds of my skirts closely around my legs.
"Only from a great distance," she replied. "The drop into Sea Dragon's realm is not for
such as us."
Their chatter went on and I listened, painting hazy pictures of a mother's smile in my
drowsy mind, while the sun slipped below the darkening blue horizon.
It was well past sunset when I returned home. I hurried inside, anxious that my father
might be worried.
"Chung-ah?" his voice was a ghostly echo from the shadows of his comer. In the faint
moon-light, I could see his figure seated on a straw mat, his head bowed and listening.
Bennett- 4
"Forgive me abeoji," 1 cried in a rush. "I was with the haenyeo and lost track of the time.
But they gave me a few abalone for your dinner. Shall 1 make you some porridge?" 1 lit the lamp
and went to work.
"Chung-ah ... " My father came to sit outside the kitchen, then reached for the makgeolli
jar and his drinking bowl. 1 stoked the fire and set a pot of water to boil. Beyond our small house,
clinging to the tall swaying grass, crickets sang their evening song.
"Yes abeoji?"
A milky trail of sweet rice wine dribbled from his chin. He swiped it away then tugged at
the long threads of his black beard. His blind eyes opened and closed in agitation.
"I was worried when you did not come. You usually return so much earlier in the day."
"I'm sorry 1 made you worry, abeoji."
"I went to look for you. But 1 fell into the stream. You know the water is fast this time of
year, and the banks are high. 1 cried out for help for many minutes." He paused to refill his wine
bowl.
"Omo! How did you get out?" 1 cracked open the abalone shells and scraped out their
succulent meat.
"I cried out, cursing my sorry fate and my blindness, until 1 heard a voice calling down to
me from above. It was a monk from the temple. He pulled me out and helped me home."
"That was kind of him." 1 poured a handful of rice into the boiling pot then added sea salt
and garlic.
"Yes. 1 was very grateful. He told me, 'Old Shim Hakk-Yu, if you will give three
hundred bushels of rice to Lord Buddha's temple, 1 and my brother monks will offer up prayers
and your sight will be returned.' 1 was so grateful, and so moved by his kindness that without
Bennett - 5
,
.
thinking I quickly agreed. It wasn't until after he had gone that I realized what I had done. Where
is a poor blind man to get such a large sum of rice? Aigoo, what have I done ... will not Buddha
be offended?"
Sweet green onions and garlic. Spicy pumpkin kimchi. Thick abalone porridge. The
honeyed rice cakes my mistress had given me. I set each dish in its proper place at my father's
knee and pressed his spoon into his hand. "Eat abeoji. You must be hungry. I'm sure Lord
Buddha will understand your good intentions."
But my father had become distracted and, instead of eating, reached in again to refill his
wine bowl. It was this night, this event set into motion by my own carelessness that marked the
beginning of my father's descent into despair. Over the next few days he become increasingly
listless and brooding, the makgeolli jar his constant companion. Drunken, he cried out in anger to
our ancestors for allowing him to be cursed with blindness and poverty. After the third day, he
stopped eating.
I pleaded with him. I cried for him. And then, when nothing I said or did was able to
move him, I set off to the docks to fulfill his heart's desire.
The morning I was to leave, I rose many hours before the sun and prepared my father's
breakfast. I washed carefully then braided and coiled my hair into the elegant chignon of a lady ­
of a bride. Into the woven strands I fixed the lotus blossom.
I put on my cleanest linen shift. Then, from a watertight wooden box, I took my mother's
wedding hanbok. The skirt was a brilliant red; tiny yellow butterflies had been stitched along its
hem. The jacket was a pale yellow and fastened together with a long white sash. I dressed
myself, only the soft whisper of sliding silk disturbing the early morning's stillness.
Bennett - 6
The sailors gawked at me when I stepped on board the merchant ship bound for the
mainland. The boat was heavy with treasures from our island and the scents of citrus and fish
rose from beneath the deck. I lowered my gaze and found a seat atop a wooden barrel.
"Is she the one?" One sailor whispered to another.
"I heard she offered herself in exchange for three hundred bushels of rice," another
replied.
"I heard she offered herself to save her poor blind father," a third chimed in.
I closed my eyes and, folding my hands into my lap, I trembled.
It was nearing noon when the vessel pulled away from the docks. We had been due to
leave at dawn, but when the sun was high and the crew began to complain, the Captain
announced that we were awaiting the arrival of a man of some importance.
Several hours later and trailed by a staff of nervous subordinates, the passenger arrived. I
had not fully seen his face before, but I felt certain the man was the same imperial minister who
had been visiting the magistrate's household. As he stepped on board, I was able to view him
clearly and felt a sudden regret that I would not be able to describe him for my haenyeo mothers.
He was tall, with a lean, studious appearance. His skin was pale and clear, unmarred by exposure
to the sun. He wore the hanbokrobes of his office, dark blue silks over a pristine white collar.
Perched on his head, his gat cast a shadow over the curious gaze of his eyes.
Forgetting myself, I stared at him. For a brief moment, he stared back. I reasoned that he,
seeing me beneath my mother's fine silks, mistook me for a lady of consequence, or, my heart
Bennett -7
quickened, a gisaeng
a courtesan. I blushed and looked away. He found a seat across the deck
and, surrounded by his men, withdrew a book from his pocket.
The sea was calm when we set out, but our captain was wary. "Be ready," he told me
gravely. "Aren't you afraid? Need we bind you?"
"There is no need," I shook my head. "I am ready. When the time comes, I will go."
"Perhaps having such a lovely girl aboard is token enough for the old Dragon," a sailor
laughed hopefully. "Perhaps it is enough."
"Perhaps," I smiled and crossed my ankles.
We were nearing the mainland when the storm hit. Men rushed to lower the ship's white
sails. Land was a hazy blur on the distant western horizon before the rain began to beat down.
The waves swelled to great heights and the vessel rose and fell, a speck in the vast chaos.
The captain gripped my shoulder.
"Brave Shim Chung! Save us Shim Chung!" someone shouted. The winds screamed,
tugging lose my braids. I plucked the fragile lotus blossom from my hair and clutched it to my
chest like a precious child. Great wooden oars groaned then snapped and blue-white lightning
flashed across the violent sky. The Sea Dragon thrashed and bellowed deep below.
"Shim Chung, the good daughter! The brave daughter! Our savior!" several men began to
weep and beyond them the young imperial minister shouted, demanding to know what was
happening.
I stepped onto the railing, gripping a thick rope for support. Below, the dark water boiled.
Closing my eyes, I cried a last farewell to my father, then opened my arms wide to embrace my
first, and fmal, kiss. I fell.
The sea grew calm.
Bennett - 8
I sunk and I drifted and, then, I dreamed.
I dreamed of sea nymphs. Their diaphanous fingers brushed my throat and I was able to
breathe with them. They tugged at my toes and pulled me down to the deepest depths of the
ocean.
I dreamed of a great body, jade and silver and breathing. From its jaws it brought forth
watery life and with each intake it devoured in greedy destruction. I hovered before the rolling
blackness of its terrible eye and it looked into me, turned me over and about, and saw me.
I covered my face.
I dreamed of my mother.
I laid my head onto her lap and wept for joy. Wept uncontrollably for the joy of seeing
her, oftouching her and knowing her.
She stoked my hair and hushed me. "You are a good daughter, Chung-ah" she said to me.
"You have given your own life to save your poor father. You are a dutiful daughter, Chung-ah,
and I am so, so proud of you."
"Stay with me," I cried. "I cannot bear to lose you again."
"I will always be with you," she told me. "Listen for me, for when I am happy, you will
hear my joy in the sparrow's song."
I dreamed ofthe eye, turning me - assaying me and laying my soul bare and raw. And
then it stopped.
Bennett - 9
f
v_
o
\
"You are truly a filial daughter, Shim Chung." The Dragon said. "Stay here with me and
be as my own daughter and I will care for you always."
But I was unhappy and homesick and the old Dragon saw it because he had seen through
me and into me. With a deep sigh, he encased me within my lotus blossom then let lose a strong
current and sent me adrift, like a seed on the wind.
Consciousness came in layers, the unfolding of soft petals. 1 sensed stillness and then a
movement and then the soft glow of lamplight. A thick blanket covered my body, weighing me
down and keeping me at rest. The cool comfort of a damp cloth pressed against my forehead. 1
opened my eyes fully to see where 1 was.
"Your fever has broken," a gentle voice came from beside me. It came from the man, the
handsome young minister, I'd seen on the merchant ship. Beyond him stretched the space of a
large room filled with fine furniture and paintings.
"Where am IT 1 muttered, too weak to raise myself from the bedding.
"You are at the imperial palace," he replied. His face was soft with concern. "A
fisherman found you washed ashore near the mouth of the Han River. Seeing the silk of your
gown and your fragile beauty, he thought you a noble-woman lost at sea. I recognized you as the
girl who threw herself into the storm. The captain later told me the entire tale, and I was moved
by your bravery and your loyalty and care for your father. 1 ordered you brought here, where 1
have nursed you through your fever."
"Beautiful Chung-ah," he took my hand into his own. "I have fallen in love with you and
wish you to become my own wife."
Rendered speechless, I gaped at him in astonishment.
Bennett - 10
A door slid open. An old man, a doctor, entered. "Forgive me, your majesty," he spoke
softly. "I've come to have a look at your patient."
"Your majesty?" I managed a rough whisper, looking from man to man in complete
confusion.
"That is correct, child," the old doctor smiled. "Do you not recognize your own king?"
We were married soon after, and a great banquet was held in celebration. At my request,
blind men from every comer of the kingdom were invited to come and join the festivities. From
behind a screen, I watched as a train of worn, travel weary blind men entered the palace. None
were the face I hoped to see.
On the last day, the tables were cleared and moved away. I watched, broken hearted, as
the last remnants were swept away by nimble young girls. At the gate, a loud shouting rang out.
The palace guards had turned away a late arriver, but the man demanded entrance. I ran to look,
and beneath a layer of dirt and grime I found the familiar features I had been waiting for.
"Abeoji!" I cried out. "It is my dear father! Let him in! Let him in!"
"Chong-ah?" he called. "Is it you? Or is it my dear daughter's ghost? Is that you my
child? Is that your voice I hear? Are you indeed alive? Come, let me have a look at you!"
I ran to my father and grasped his weathered hands into my own. "Abeoji!" I cried.
Forgetting his state, my father opened wide his eyes and saw me. He began to weep.
It has been years since that time. I have born my dear husband many children, and we are
very happy.
Bennett - 11
It is the first wann day of spring and the children are running freely through the palace
courtyard. Their laughter lightens the hearts of all who hear them, and we stop and watch their
innocent play.
"Harabeoji!" my daughter cries out and runs to her grandfather who is napping beneath
the shade of a willow. Her older brothers have knocked her down. A small red scrape mars the
surface of her tiny knees.
"Aigoo," my father coos over her. "You rascals!" he shouts out to the boys and they run
away. He pulls my daughter into his anns and blows gently onto her wounds. "Remember little
one," he tells her, "you are a precious daughter."
"Yes harabeoji," she replies with childish gravity.
Afternoon sunlight flames on the distant maples. In their swaying branches, a bright
sparrow hops forward and begins to sing.
Bennett - 12