Invasion

The Fields of Asphodel are like a cold winter night, where the only sounds come from the

whooshing of spirits past you. My new home in the Underworld was a drastic change from the

island where I lived when I was alive. There it was hot and I could hear the waves crashing on

the crags outside my cave and I could interact with other individuals of my own kind, the

cyclops. Yes, I know what you may be thinking, cyclops can go the Underworld too, not just

human beings. We too have to be judged before Cerberus, the three-headed dog. We too have to

abide by the rule of Hades, the god of death. We too live an eternity amongst dead, floating

spirits in the Fields of Asphodel, but I’m just ten feet taller, and I only have one eye socket. All

of the spirits of the Underworld know me as Polyphemus, the evil and primal cyclops who

cursed Odysseus’s journey back home to Ithaca. However, from these spirits I have heard the

stories told of Odysseus’s iconic journey home. However, these stories are idealized and

exaggerated, and were lies.

While it was true that the island I lived on was peaceful and great for farming, Odysseus

deliberately ignored the community in which he was trespassing on. I was not living on an island

in the middle of the sea by myself. My island, commonly named Cyclopia by the spirits of the

Underworld, was a well-functioning town. Everyone lived in caves with boulders we could use

as doors to stay warm at night. While I was the herder and farmer of Cyclopia, other jobs

included the king who ruled over the population and the blacksmith who made weapons for

battle. However, the day when the small and cunning Odysseus arrived, our years of peace and

prosperity were interrupted.

Upon arrival, Odysseus and his crew went to my cave because it was the nearest to the

shore. There they took my goat cheese and ate my lamb, and then took my shelter by building a
fire with the bowls which held the milk I had extracted from my goats for the past three months.

Yet, they still expected a guest gift. The humans’ only justification for this invasion was that I

was below them, socially. I did not yell at them because I was angry, but instead I yelled at them

when I wanted to relax and go to sleep. Naturally, I would be upset if an intruder was in my

home. Odysseus was mad when the suitors intruded his. On the second night after the crew’s

arrival, I left my door open because I was young and foolish. Then Odysseus used his greatest

weapon, his wits, to strike. He fed me wine until I was so drunk that the world was spinning

around me. I did not know where I was. And then it hit me. The blazing stake was gnawed into

my eye in a forceful manner, and I felt the greatest pain one can ever feel. Then Odysseus and

his crew left, where I threw boulders at their small mortal ships in pain and agony, hoping to take

one down with me. After Odysseus’s departure, I died just a few hours after because he nearly

had pierced my head with the spear that he made.

Yes, Odysseus framed me to be the bad guy. He called me a brute, he called me a hulk,

he called me a monster, and I was not any of those things. One way he justified my brutal murder

was through my cannibalism. But it was not really cannibalism. Cannibals eat their own kind,

and I ate humans, not cyclops. Human was not usually my first food of choice, but that year had

been a tough growing season, and I had very little to eat. Second, he justified my assassination

through my rage. According to the spirits down here in Asphodel, you are supposed to abide by

the Law of Hospitality where you make your guest feel welcome, even if he is not invited. I think

this is a stupid rule. Why would I give someone a guest gift who his in my home against my

will? If anything, my guest gift to Odysseus was not killing him the moment I realized he was in

my home. Lastly, Odysseus justified my murder through my disrespect to the gods. First of all,

this is utter and complete fabrication. Odysseus said I disrespected the gods just to further vilify
me. If I was against the gods, why would I call out to my father, Poseidon? If I thought cyclops

were stronger than the gods, wouldn’t I just have my fellow Cyclopians chase after him? What I

am trying to say is that maybe he was the brute and monster, not me.

Now in the Fields of Asphodel, I see Odysseus every once and a while and I try to follow

him. But whenever I follow him, I am joined by twelve young women with nooses around their

necks. Their feet are always twitching above ground and their pretty little faces are paralyzed

with looks of shock and anguish. I have learned that these are the maids Odysseus ruthlessly

killed after being raped by the suitors vying for his wife, Penelope. Just like the maids’ nooses,

the stake that remained in my eye in the Underworld serves as a reminder of why I am down here

in the first place. The maids and I torture Odysseus because he tortured us. He put us through

pain and suffering that we did not deserve. He tries to escape us through rebirth, but I follow him

through the River Lethe as well. In fact, about forty-five years, Odysseus was reborn as a

strategic German general and I was reborn as a tall and strong lieutenant in the army of the

Soviet Union. My army defeated theirs with ease, and I dealt the final blow by sticking my

dagger through Odysseus’s heart.

What spirits down here in the Underworld do not understand is that I seek revenge on

Odysseus for tainting my name than for killing me. I have spent much more time in the

Underworld than above ground on Cyclopia, and everyone is scared of me. No one understands

that Book 9 of Odysseus’s hero story is all lies and that he was the bad guy. No one understands

that I was not primitive, but instead lived a sophisticated and organized life. Now, because of

Odysseus, spirits like me have to live their lives cast aside as villains and without one trace of

dignity.