Creative Writing: The Handmaid's Tale

Day broke through the night’s black armor and gave way to light. The stainedglass windows reflected the light onto my face displaying two eyes blue as Poseidon’s wrath and hair the color of the earth. I awoke to nature’s alarm: birds chirping and deer rushing through the forests with their graydyed adversaries following closely behind; as a nymph, the essence of nature was in my blood. I rose and stared at the sundried, mud brick walls and listened to the sounds of nature. A tap at my door began, but I ignored it; I was consumed by the smells and noises of nature, but the tap at my door became more constant. I ascended from my woolcoated bed, put on a satin dress so red you might think Aries wore it in battle. I approached the door to see if

I’d like to say that out of all the maids, I am the most capable. I would not describe myself as arrogant, but a born leader. That is why Circe made me the facilitator of the maids, and if a chore is assigned I am the one she consults.

“Who do we have the pleasure of hosting, mistress?” Andromeda responded curiously.

“Odysseus and his men.”

“The famed Odysseus who fought in the Trojan War?” I exclaimed.

“Precisely.”

“Then you must know that he and his crew have no shortage of hubris! For why have you let the likes of such men enter this home?,” I questioned furiously, feeling the veins on my forehead protrude like thorns on a rose.

“Do not let your personal feelings consume you; you will do the tasks I ask of you!”

Circe snapped back.

I racked my brain for a rebuttal, but I found nothing. Crushed and defeated, I hung my head and walked back to the rooms to retrieve the other maids. Our tasks were to dress the furniture with crimson covers and linen cloths, draw silver tables before the chairs, lay out golden trays to hold fluffy pita bread, set out wine in silver bowls and golden cups, and light