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  • Writer's pictureThe Fake Guru

The Cyclops – Part I

Updated: Jan 31, 2022

IN THE SPARKLING AEGEAN SEA in the western Cycladic Archipelago, south of Kythnos and northwest of Sifnos, lies a small island: Serifos, Land of the Cyclops. It is upon this island that the one-eyed giant Polyphemus lives, tending to his herd of mighty sheep.


Polyphemus was a lonesome giant, having few wants barring the safety and welfare of his flock. So it was a puzzling sight to find him casting a wistful eye over the craggy landscape. It was a late summer day and as Helios made his fiery descent over the edge of the ocean the island became awash in blazing swathes of scarlet and burnt orange


She has not returned, he thinks longingly.


Standing at the end of the cliff his shadow has grown long. A black silhouette cast beyond the grasslands where his herd grazed, it stretches all the way to the tip of the dark cave’s mouth from which the last rays of the sunlight escape.


"It is not unusual for her to leave for a day or two – but tonight is the the sixth night she's been missing," he says to himself.


Disheartened, the giant abandons his search and turns his back on the horizon's last slither of dying light. As dusk turns to darkness, he shepherds his sheep into the cave.


He stacks the fireplace with timber and twigs and sets them ablaze. The fire would keep him and his flock warm at night.


With the last of the sheep settled, Polyphemus chances a final, longing look over the pale moonlit prairie. He listens intently, willing into existence the familiar snap of a twig or the brush of grass indicating her return. But he hears nothing. Only the sound of the waves, distantly lapping against the shoreline, accompanied by the sneering lick of the wind.


Hanging his head in a heavy gloom, he seizes the massive boulder with strong, cracked hands and rolls it in front of the cave’s mouth, sealing the entrance shut.


Perhaps she will be waiting outside in the morning, he thinks to himself.


He sets his back against the cold stone wall and sits on a bale of straw. Resting his head against his wooden crook, he solemnly lets the time pass while watching the fire’s friendly crackle. Eventually he tires and closes his eye.




To be continued...

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