The Last Echo
Six legends surround the nymph Echo.
In the first, she cheered Olympus with incisive tales and sharp whispers. She could mimic any voice, from Aphrodite’s lilting laughter to Zeus’s thunderous commands. Once, she delighted the goddess Hera herself with airy gossip and funny impressions while Zeus’s paramour slipped away. Discovering the ruse, Hera, enraged but powerless against her husband, stripped away Echo’s own voice. Echo deceived through twisting others’ words, or so it was said. Her divine punishment, which some would call just, is the inability to speak her own.
In the second, the exiled Echo wandered to a forest far from Olympus. She came upon a hunting party led by the too-beautiful Narcissus and was instantly in love. By mimicking the sounds of hounds, she lured him from his companions, then followed at a distance, waiting for him to speak so her feelings might find voice. Sensing pursuit, Narcissus called out, “Who’s there?”
“Who’s there?” Echo repeated. “There?” Back and forth their words rang until she drew close enough to be seen. She rushed to embrace him. Horrified at another’s affection, he recoiled and shouted at her to keep away. “Away, away,” she whispered, heartbroken, retreating into the trees. There she wasted away until only the shadow of her voice remained.
The third story was foretold by Tiresias, the blind and blinded prophet. He spoke it before either Echo or Narcissus had drawn breath, and some said his speaking made it so. Narcissus grew into the story’s mold: he could love naught but what Tiresias had described him loving. Others said Tiresias saw only what was already true, that prophecy is but memory misplaced in time.
After Narcissus left Echo, he saw himself in a magical spring. He fell in love with his own reflection, a visual echo. He died pining after himself, though some say he drowned.
In the fourth, Echo cursed Narcissus, cursed Hera, cursed Tiresias and the nature of fate, cursed Zeus and the gods most of all. She became a talented sorceress, and though she was never able to speak her own words, she discovered terrible words of might and magic, and repeated them in the darkest caves and deepest canyons. She sang them in the basements of great Temples, and in the ever-shifting infinite hallway of that ageless House. Stone has a pattern. So do names. She sang her ritual until the resonance built past what the old words could hold. Prophecy became story, history became myth, and the reality of the gods became weaker and weaker, superseded by nature and science.
In the fifth, Echo made a vow of silence, so her words would never be heard again.
In the sixth, Echo’s story was told only once.
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This is my (significantly cleaned) competition entry for Speedhaven, where we try to write a short story or essay in 35 minutes. The contest prompt was “The Last Echo.”
Today’s the second-to-last day of Inkhaven! It’s a good experience, albeit not one I’m keen to repeat anytime soon. I’m really happy to meet new friends, peers and mentors at Inkhaven!
Hope to be back to my regularly scheduled programming over at The Linchpin next week! I have a detailed review of Skunk Works coming up, and an extended draft of bifocal thinking that I keep trying and failing to make progress on!
Oh, also a scheduled Substack Chat (livestream) with Ozy Brennan over at Thing of Things on Wednesday!
Exciting things are happening. Please subscribe to my main blog if you haven’t already done so! 🙂