Nestor

The following takes place in real time; only seconds after the actions have been performed. Because of this, all verbs will be in past tense.

After I began my search for my dear father, Odysseus, I stumbled on a small island. I could see their leader, whom I later learned is named Nestor. He was royalty beyond belief, with more jewels and gems on his crown than I even knew existed. As you can imagine, as a newcomer, I was somewhat frightened to approach His Royal Majesty. I told Mentor, by best friend at the time, of my troubles, but he gave me some helpful words of advice:

"...some of the words you'll find within yourself, the rest some power will inspire you to say. You least of all - I know - were born and reared without the gods' good will." It's crazy the things he says sometimes. It's like he's some kind of divine being!

So I mount up all my courage, and I stepped up to the glorious king. And believe it or not, this man was a gentleman. He bathed me (well, not personally), clothed me (once again), and gave me the most glorious feast my eyes had ever had the privilege to enjoy. Later on in the night, he told me many stories, some featuring more imagination than others. Then, he began his story of the Trojan War, in which my father was the star warrior. But Nestor was clueless of my relationship to the Great Odysseus! (a.k.a. Dad). He tells a story of bravery, of sacrifice, and of courage, and it was all about my father. By the end, I swear, more water was coming out of my eyes than all the water in the Adriatic Sea! All in all, it was a fantastic night, and I am glad Mr. Nestor was able to give me so much hospitality.
The next morning, I had awoken without of memory from the night before. Luckily, I always keep careful notes of my travels. I was able to regain my knowledge of the previous nights events. It was at that moment when I saw a small note, in my handwriting, and the bottom of the page: “Dad = Dead”. There is no mistaking what that is, a preface for a funeral in his honor. But I mustn’t give up hope, no I shall not. On the good word of a close friend, my father is still alive, fighting for return to his home, my home.

I have decided that I need to stop stalling, and find m¥ father. It is possible he is currently in a state of grave danger, and I do not want to waste a minute. If my tardiness is the cause of his death, then I have no reason to live. I will leave today, with Nestor’s son, (a great guy, by the way), and we will set sail. Those suitors will never know what hit them, but I will. It will be my father’s angry and triumphant fists.