The Tale of the Tides
Copyright 2012 by K. Writerly
The sea is a simple creature – lazy, selfish, fickle – like a cat stretched out upon a sun-warmed stone. It’s easy to see why my brother, Zeus, prefers his throne atop Olympus. Although the sea is an unwieldy force to command, it serves me well. All is as it should be: I am its master and it is my servant.
Like all servants, it plays when it believes its lord is otherwise engaged. I indulge it, turning a blind eye to its pastimes. The playful crashing of the surf upon distant shores is of no concern to me. In short, I care not where its attention wanders every morning and evening so long as the sea obeys my commands.
“Come to me,” I bid, scowling fiercely at the hull of a ship as it passes by. I do not recall being offered a sacrifice from this crew to ensure their safe passage upon my sea. Heathen mortals. They will be punished for this disrespect.
I call to the sea, raising my arms and summoning a whirlpool the likes of which shall make Charybdis herself quake in awe. These men who blatantly dare to cross my domain without permission shall pay my brother, Hades, a visit!
I call to the sea.
It does not answer.
For a moment, I am at a loss, an utterly uncomprehending loss. Why do only the most half-hearted of currents swirl around me in response to my summons? This does not feel like defiance – although it most assuredly is! This feels like distraction.
Very well, then. I let my pet remain distracted and, as it frolics happily in distant places, I seek out the recipient of its attention. I find it.