Once upon a time, there was an Ancient Greek island called Rhodes. There lived three boys: Kamiros, Ialysos, and Lindos, who divided it into three regions to rule over. From ancient times, the island was under the sovereignty of Helios, the god of the sun.
Centuries after the three brothers had divided the island, a girl named Lydia flew to Rhodes on a summer trip. She was an archaeologist and had heard about the curse of the Colossus of Rhodes—one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World—but glossed over it when it was mentioned in a college class.
It just so happened that a month prior to her trip to Greece, she went to a cocktail party at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. There, an old Greek lady told her that the Colossus covered a hole, which was a pathway to the center of the island where there was a cave under the sea. Great treasures had been there for thousands of years. She also said that it was too late to see the Colossus, which had been created in honor of Helios. When the Arabs conquered Rhodes during the 600s, they dismantled what had been left of the statue after an earthquake and sold the bronze parts in Syria. The locals let them because they thought the statue was cursed and were happy to get rid of it. In their Ancient Greek arrogance, they thought it had been built to last forever.
The old lady tried to appeal to Lydia’s love of New York mentioning the Statue of Liberty had been modeled using ancient drawings of the Colossus of Rhodes. But what Lydia thought was more interesting about the ancient statue was that it supposedly pointed the way to Mount Olympus, home to the Greek gods. The legends written about them had first attracted her to archeology. She was also eager to see the cave because the old lady had told her that as a kid, her grandmother would entertain her with stories about the fascinating lives of the mermaids and nymphs who lived there.
So she flew to Rhodes and took a bus, which led her to the city marina. The bus went down winding, narrow roads and she saw too many pharmacies and tourist stores. When the bus reached Ialysos—a region of the island—she started seeing the Aegean Sea on the left-hand side of the road. The sea looked dark blue far away and light blue near the rocky shore. Only hotel resorts and hills filled with Mediterranean plants were on the right. Then the bus arrived in the City of Rhodes. More houses, more stores, and especially more restaurants were everywhere. Particularly American, German, Italian, or Norwegian bars made to attract certain nationalities who frequented the island as tourists. Approaching the harbor, she saw a Venetian-style building and remembered the old lady had said it was close to where the Colossus would have been in ancient times.
Lydia got off the bus and saw a white and orange cat walking around the port with its tail up and occasionally looking and almost smiling at the sunset. But she didn’t know how to find the cave entrance. The old lady had told her that she would have to jump in the water. “Don’t be afraid, the nymphs and mermaids will make sure you visit them. Maybe they’ll think you’re one of them,” she had said giggling. Lydia thought the old lady was a little crazy but she was used to meeting unusual people as an archeologist.
After walking around the marina for a bit, she returned to her hotel nearby. That night, she had a dream about the white and orange cat making taralli—a type of Italian crackers she always ate. The cat looked up at her, then ran away. Lydia tried to chase it but couldn’t catch up. Suddenly, she couldn’t see it anymore. It was as if it had vanished in a black hole. She tried to trace the cat but she fell into an abyss herself. Lydia fell straight through a vertical cylindrical tunnel with sea walls long enough to strangely get used to the feeling of falling. She noticed the sea walls had fish and sea plants in them but somehow, the water didn’t flood the tunnel.
She landed in the middle of a room decorated with a light pink couch shaped like a seashell and several turquoise chairs, shaped like smaller seashells. On an oval table, there was a paper parchment that read: “Talk to the sea and ask it to give you exactly what you want. It can’t give you what you want if it doesn’t know what that is.”
Lydia thought the message was peculiar and wondered who had left it there. She looked around and saw a window shaped like a Renaissance mirror and through it, she saw more marine life. Then, she noticed a door and went towards it. Once she opened it, she entered a long, extravagant, golden hallway that reminded her of the Hall of Mirrors she saw when she visited the Palace of Versailles.
A little octopus with a bow-tie around its neck came to greet her. She wasn’t surprised. “Let me take you to the nymph Rhode. She will be glad to see you.” But Lydia had no idea who the nymph was. “Follow me,” said the octopus. “And get ready: Days here last for 67 hours. “How long do you sleep?” she asked. “Seven or eight hours,” said the octopus. “And what do you do the rest of the day?” “We live life to the fullest. You know all those people who wish there were more hours in the day? We have that here. Does this blow your mind?” Lydia rolled her eyes because she thought the octopus was a little arrogant.
They continued down the hallway and entered a throne room but there was nobody sitting on the throne. The room was large but empty, except for the throne and a pool table. Only Rhode was playing. Lydia looked at a wall and saw a clock. “It’s a gift from Kronos,” the nymph said while aiming to shoot a ball and not looking at Lydia. “It’s nice,” she replied. The nymph struck the ball but it just jumped a little and didn’t go too far. Rhode left the stick by the side of the pool table. “I’ve never been too good at pool. Helios is so much better, but that’s not a problem because I’m good at other things.” Lydia looked at the nymph but didn’t say anything. “What are you good at?” The nymph asked. “I guess I’m good at archeology but…” she paused. “You don’t really like it?” “No,” Lydia whispered. “Why’s that?” “I’ve actually always wanted to be a writer.” “So what happened?” the nymph asked, moving closer to Lydia.
“I guess when I was a teenager, I went to an amusement park with some friends and I had the bright idea to ask a fortune-teller if I would become a famous writer. She said I shouldn’t even try writing because I wouldn’t be good at it. I told her that she was wrong but she shrugged, which really made me angry. But I haven’t really tried since.” “Talk about a dream crusher,” the nymph snickered. “Are you going to let some random person dictate your future?” “No but I’m risk-averse.” “You weren’t risk-averse when you came down here.” “I guess I wasn’t.”
“How do you know so much about the human world anyway?” Lydia asked. “That’s a story for another time, Rhode said. “And don’t change the subject. If you’re a writer, you should write.” “But how do I know if I really am a writer?” Lydia asked. “Does it make your heart jump for joy? Do you lose track of time when you throw yourself into it?” “It does and I do,” Lydia replied. “Then writing is what you must do.” “But I would probably had never found you if I hadn’t been an archeologist, if I hadn’t been to that cocktail party at the Met and talked to the old Greek lady from Rhodes.” “Are you sure about that?” the nymph asked. Lydia looked a little confused. “Do you know the old lady?” the nymph smiled. “Were you the old lady?” “You can’t know for sure,” Rhode replied while twirling until she stopped near the clock, pointing at it. “Time is ticking. You have to follow your calling. Stop overthinking and pretending to be something you’re not. Write about me if you want but remember: Don’t waste your time with nonsense like the fear of taking chances and trying something new.”
Lydia woke up on the sidewalk of the Rhodes marina. A group of Greeks surrounded her, looking concerned and asking her something in Greek. “I”m ok,” she told them while trying to get up. One of them gave her a hand courteously. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m Kamiros,” he replied.