Penelope's Diary - Post #1
Telemachus is almost a man. I came upon him sitting on my throne, trying it out I suppose. Wanting the responsibility to make decisions. He is not quite ready. Yesterday he came bounding in like a 12-year old boy bursting with energy he knows not what to do with. Now that he is taller than me he likes to put his chin on the top of my head. We have our games. I have taught him almost as much as I can. The intricacy of leadership is not an easy task to learn. Were his father here to guide him into the other half of manhood! Gods be damned – where are you Odysseus? Are you still alive?
Suitor baits Telemachus, taunts him. It would be to Suitor’s advantage to have Telemachus “out of the way.” Telemachus is the primary obstacle between me and thus to the throne. Suitor woos me with flowers and jewels, charms, muscles and seductive talk. He is dull. I cannot marry someone with only half the brain of Odysseus no matter the body and face.
My maid is restless and my slave girl is sleeping with Suitor. Her tongue is treacherous, she knows far too much about too many in the household.
The night settles in. Deep hues of purple and red fade into the darkness. Shadows play in the gardens and on walls of castle. Sometimes the statues in the gardens feel alive, shifting in and out of their marble poses.
I close my eyes weary of this waiting, day in and day out.