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October 5, 2007

David: Odysseus

I sat on the dock, resting my bones, and looked out over the bay. In the distance, I could see the tide washing onto rocks worn smooth.

I was wasting time in this strange country where I didn’t speak the language. I’d been stranded a few years back, and my efforts to find my way free of this place had proven futile.

So, I sit here, watching the ships roll in, cursing the loneliness that won’t leave me alone.

My only solace is the faith that she’s out there, in her harbor town, wearing the silver locket I gave her.

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Comments

Kudos for blending pop ballads with Homer!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 5, 2007 12:51 PM · Permalink

Just don't start whistling.

Posted by: Stacy at October 5, 2007 1:03 PM · Permalink

Bra-ffffffffing-ohhhhh

I am whistling in my head, RIGHT NOW

Posted by: Ted Bronson at October 5, 2007 6:35 PM · Permalink

Hmmm. That's odd. For me the whistling stopped hours ago and now all I hear is "Brandy. You're a fine girl..."

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 5, 2007 6:37 PM · Permalink

Oh, I have that song in my head all the time anyway, no bothers there.

Posted by: Ted Bronson at October 5, 2007 7:34 PM · Permalink

Jim, you ASSHOLE. :)

Posted by: Stacy at October 5, 2007 7:37 PM · Permalink

Hey, now! I didn't write that song into the last paragraph of my story like...er...somebody else did (above).
(Now that's what I call 'deflection'.)

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 5, 2007 8:28 PM · Permalink