In The Odyssey, I didn’t
find as many stand-out prompts as I did in the Epic of Gilgamesh, but that’s probably because The Odyssey is much better known and has already been highly influential—segments of the story have become part of the Western heritage,
like pretending to be “Noman,” avoiding the seductive call of the Sirens, fighting
the temptation to become a Lotus-Eater, having to decide between Scylla and
Charybdis, and falling for Circe who turns men into swine—all these have been
used over and over. But some lines or scenes still stood out that could be used
as prompts for situations, like:
- Devise a story or scenario for:
“she
bound on her feet
The beautiful sandals, golden,
immortal,
That carry her over landscape
and seascape
On a puff of wind.”
- Create a character for the “Daughter of . . . the Old Man of the Sea”
- What situation and person could produce these lines:
“He
will try everything,
And turn
into everything that moves on the earth,
And into
water also, and a burning flame.
Just
hang on and grip him all the more tightly.”
- Use the following to produce a story:
“Shedding
salt tears in the halls of Calypso”
- This one is haunting:
“the
phantom slipped through the keyhole and became a sigh in the air.”
- Imagine a background for this:
“the
cry of the spirit women who hold the high peaks”
- An interesting setting:
“a
floating island surrounded by a wall of indestructible bronze set on sheer
stone”
- Another setting:
“For
night and day make one twilight there”
- What would lead to this situation:
“The
other ghosts crowded around in sorrow”
- Or this:
“Most
men die only once, but you twice.”
- And this last one, so simple, is one of my favorites:
“The
night is young—and magical.”
- Finally, just in case you’re thinking of The Odyssey as being much too “classic” for modern tastes, I give you the gory and well-detailed description of puncturing the Cyclops’ single eye, with a stake that’s been heated and sharpened in a fire. (Horror writers, take note of the great use of detail and simile):
My men lifted up the olivewood
stake
And drove the sharp point right
into his eye,
While I, putting my weight behind
it, spun it around
The way a man bores a ship’s
beam with a drill,
Leaning down on it while other
men beneath him
Keep it spinning and spinning
with a leather strap.
That’s how we twirled the
fiery-pointed stake
In the Cyclops’ eye. The blood
formed a whirlpool
Around its searing tip. His lids
and brow
Were all singed by the heat from
the burning eyeball
And its roots crackled in the
fire and hissed
Like an axe-head or adze a smith
dips into water
When he wants to temper the
iron—that’s how his eye
Sizzled and hissed around the
olivewood stake.
He screamed, and the rock walls
rang with his voice.
Ugh!
All quotes are from the Stanley Lombardo translation, and
were taken from:
The Norton Anthology of Western Literature, 9th ed.,
vol. 1.