Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey

Odysseus is a sad boy. He has been away from his wife and son for a long time. A beautiful goddess forced him to have sex with her for seven years. He really didn't like it. Then he met a beautiful witch and she made him have sex too. Again, he didn't like it.

He sailed past more beautiful women and he wanted to hear their song, because it was supposed to be the most beautiful song in the world, so he tied himself to a mast to avoid having to have sex with more beautiful women.

Poor, sad Odysseus.

Drunk On Power

Jason surveyed all that was his. Turning his head left to right, everything belonged solely to him to do with as he pleased. After years of hard-fought battles, defeat after defeat, he had finally claimed this territory as his own, and there was nothing that Janet could do about it.

He believed he would call it Casa de Jason.

"But if you don't keep this area clean, I'm taking it back from you."

His wife could threaten him all she wanted. This corner of the garage was entirely his domain, and he'd hang whatever heavy metal posters he choose. Bwahahaha!

Evening Walk

I still smelled the floral scent of my wife’s perfume and dreamed of her laughing, a soft cackle that used to bring a smile to my face. Her beautiful complexion used to turn heads wherever we went. She was flawless.

One evening the air was perfect for a walk, or so we thought.

That was the evening a man wearing a mask robbed my wallet. When my wife called him a coward, he shot her in the stomach. When she laid on the ground, my hand cupping her head, she whispered, “I love you.”

My world was never the same.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Adrenaline

Bullets passed by my head in a blur, and I had only one chance to make a run for it.

I hid behind the bushes with soldiers’ lifeless bodies nearby, a sitting duck waiting to be devoured. I took deep breaths, counted to ten, then ran and shot in the air at anything that moved.

I had to make it back to my family. My wife’s sky-blue eyes, flowing brown hair and son’s quick wit pictured in my mind, gave me the adrenaline I needed.

Chaos ensued and men started shooting, but I kept going.

I made it. Then collapsed.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Problems With The Ark

Anyone who builds an Ark can expect complaints, and not just from the animals.

“This’s your stupidest idea yet, Noah.”

She got right to the point.

Not only was his wife seasick after 40 days and allergic to the weasels, but now she had to squeeze between two rhinos to sleep.

“Look, I'm only following orders.”

Orders – that was always his excuse.

Mrs. Noah added more frown lines to her face.

“Well, here's my order. From now on you’re sleeping between the two rhinos.”

“What?”

“No, forget the rhinoceroses.” She knew ‘rhinoceri’ was an improper term. “Make that the hippos.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Unfinished Business

I returned from the dead, a list in my pocket: wrongs to right, pleasures to reclaim, truths to confess, sins to own. Mostly I needed to know how the world had fared without me. Apart from my poor mother, a grieving ghost of her former self, it was as if I’d never lived. Never loved. Never mattered. A stranger slept in my bed, alongside my darling wife, in my home, the one I’d slaved to pay for, my manicured garden now wildly overgrown. I fed the list to the fire. I’d start over from the very beginning, wherever that was.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

Accident

The cars came to a halt, and sirens blared. I wondered how bad the accident was. I couldn’t see anything other than flashing red and white lights and I hoped no one was killed. I called my wife, but the connection was bad. I managed to tell her I’d be late due to traffic.

The sun shifted and it was blinding so I pulled my visor down.

After an hour the traffic let up. Ambulances and stretchers were on the scene of the accident.

I said a silent prayer and drove on, anxious to get home and kiss my wife.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Maxwell

When Maxwell slept, he always dreamed of chocolate. According to his psychoanalyst, this was a long repressed association he had with the candies his mother gave him as a child. His medical doctor insisted it was a result of his chocolate allergy (technically three different allergies to milk, nuts, and soy, but who's keeping track). His wife believed it was a sign he should get her a Valentine's Day gift (collateral damage be damned).

Maxwell visited a dream analyst. She said chocolate represents an indulgence, and his subconscious was telling him to live life.

In other words, death by chocolate.

Sinners

When the Church implemented the new confessional system, Pope Earl the First proclaimed it would usher in a new era of community and humility. Father Gabriel had doubts.

"Would anyone like to begin?" he asked the circle.

Heidi raised her hand. "This week I took the Lord's name in vain three times."

It went on like this for several minutes. Sean was holding a grudge at not getting a promotion. Mel was jealous that her sister was getting married.

Then Tony raised his hand and everyone stared nervously at the ground.

"I've been sleeping with Sean's wife for three months."

Moody

The twilight sky blazed with attitude, warning everyone to speed indoors. The clouds hung ominously low on the horizon, pink, black, orange, and grey clashing together as darkness settled over the town. Rain, lightning, and even tornadoes were all possible tonight, like a sleep-deprived toddler on too much sugar.

Ben turned his collar up and sank his hands into his coat pockets, but otherwise meandered on, his attention entirely concentrated on the argument he was running away from. Rather than confront his wife with what he knew, or thought he knew anyway, he'd just keep walking towards the sun.