The Melanthiad

Remember Melantho, the minor character from The Odyssey? Didn't think so! Anyway, this is her perspective on how she is supposedly viewed:



I was the loud, in-your-face girl, who took whichever suitor I could scavenge. The one who answered back, the one who believed she deserved the life of a queen. Turns out, retribution is a bitch. You mess around, have a little taste of glamor while the boss is out and the innocent wife is still about, and from then on everything rolls down hill like I’m the one rolling the rock up the mountain for all eternity. My attempts at a new life from then on revolve around my “wicked” deeds. I’ve been a prostitute, a third rate model and a petty criminal, and it’s hard for me to believe that the best life I’ve lived was as a waitress at an off-road diner. All of those lives ended in sadistic pain and abuse. My former tyrant Odysseus believes that I deserve torture for life, as if the hanging wasn’t enough. His teenage son gets to berate me and murder my girls and I in pain, gasping for breath every damned second. I deserved the life of a goddess, I was born a beauty, shouldn’t that count for something in the afterlife? Because I was supposedly a dirty woman, does that mean that my eyes should remain heavily made up, and my skirt always well above my shapely legs? There are many derogatory terms used to describe women like me, and most of those insults came from my ruler when he was finished with every last suitor, and right before my time was up. The old goat Odysseus even wrote a book dedicated to dissing the maids and I, calling us ‘wanton’ and other things as well. I’ve never been a poet, though I was a struggling writer in one life, but here’s a piece about a piece of my mind dying to get my story out so I can finally be at peace with who I am. Maybe now they’ll all listen to me---no---they will listen to me.

I hate to admit it, but I really did love hardheaded Eurymakhos. Sure, he was only there for my mistress, but couldn’t he (and I) have some fun as well as she? Miss lady loyalty, high and mighty with her fine silk robes and golden jewelry, yet so clearly ashamed of it all while her king was away. Housewife of the year! But I don’t mean to be cruel towards the old cow. I mean, she is the one who raised me---wait---she raised me the way I am, so shouldn’t she have been killed off like the rest of us? Anyway, sure she was nice and kind to me, I was always her favorite. She would nurture me like a mother bear would her cub. She taught me which people to stay away from, what not to wear, how to keep from getting dirty—judging by how I turned out, I’d say I paid close attention to her cute little lectures. But, come on! When I was a teenager I had the same desires as any royal, common, or low class girl that age, and let’s be honest---how many ladies out there actually listen to their mother? Her husband had left her for the Great War, so who could make me feel any type of guilt? I was reckless as a whirlpool in the waters of Ithaka, which Eurykleia, the picture of faithfulness detested me for. A typical conversation between us was as rocky as the island itself.

“Melantho! Have you been borrowing the jewels of mistress Penelope? She would be cross as a landlord you hadn’t paid rent to in months, I should know, from experience.

“Miss, I wear jewels that could appear as if they belong to royalty, but maybe they only look that radiant on me?” I would try my best to sound innocent, which would cause the other naughty maids to tremble with laughter.

“You impudent girl! If lord Odysseus were here he’d have cut your head off by now! Get back into the house and return those jewels to your mistress at once!”

The other maids and I scampered like a pack of rodents back to our places, which were cleaning the royal robes (I swear, all those mourning veils Penelope wore!) and preparing the royal food for the mobs of suitors in addition to my mistress and her lazy-boned son, “clear headed” Telemakhos (I can assure you there was nothing “clear headed” about the thick daydreamer). Though honestly, serving food had been my favorite job, as I would attract many drunken suitors, though the only one I knew I could trust was Eurymakhos. Now, I’ve stated before that I was no tramp, but Eurymakhos was the one man in Ithaka who could prove that accusation wrong. I never messed around while we were together, aside from hearing occasional playful wolf whistles from his closest friends, and though he was courting my mistress, didn’t stop to glance at any other maid. We used to meet every star peppered night, black as pitch, so none of my “superiors” would catch me (As a guest, Eurymakhos didn’t need to worry about getting caught). I’d bring with me a jug of wine, which we’d share, straight from the bottle, and remember why we fell in love with each other. Looking back, it was a mere infatuation, but I, for a time, felt like he was the only one that knew I was destined for something better. After hell started breaking loose in the house, while both Odysseus and thickheaded Telemakhos were away, we could easily meet with each other in public. He was not ashamed, though I was just there to entertain him while he dreamt of bright golden riches.

The connection between us was as solid as the lifeline of a God, until Odysseus came back, and performed his Matrix-style revenge, but without the censors----you saw blood, meat and bread cloaked in dust on the ground, bodies laying there like heaps of firewood waiting to be burned. Yet Odysseus would save the burning for me. Except he let Telemakhos do the honors. I bravely cussed him out while he tied the rope around my neck, which won me a slap across the face, and the usual derogatory slang that was directed towards me. I was left, as he tied the knot tighter, gasping for air, my distorted face changing color rapidly, struggling to break free of this sadistic madness. Telemakhos never gave me a chance. Yes, I deserved a chance! I deserved a million chances!! Give me one Life worth living, like the ungodly Gods gave the royal son. Divinity is biased, I swear! I hear Penelope wrote in her book (Yes, the bitch wrote a book) that Telemakhos had become many great things: A senator, a distinguished author, a member of parliament. As I write this, my surroundings grow dark, and I sit in cold hatred looking back at better, brightly painted, cheery, lemonade cooled days, not that there were ever any for me.