Short story: The tale of Echo and Narcissus

Written by Elijah Johnson

Illustrated by Anami Hayes

Echo only went to the speed dating event because some divine force (read: a desperate need for a human connection) told her too. James had veneers too big for his mouth and talked about the weather. He was a weatherman before he moved, and that was the highlight of his otherwise mediocre life. Otis came on too strong with his never-ending list of business plans.  Echo liked a man with a goal, but he was only mature enough for one night, not something serious. Narcissus, though, felt different from the moment he sat down. There was an obvious attraction — the soft honey curls, the way he held his chest when he laughed, the dimple on the left side of a Greek god jawline. Narcissus made her feel safe, something uncommon in L.A. Back home in the shadow of the mountains, everyone knew each other. Here, Echo never saw the same person twice on her daily morning walk. 

Narcissus took Echo to one of his friend’s art shows for their first date. He went so far as to preplan the entire thing before, so the only surprise was the art itself. Then there were nail dates, picnics and lunches, but her favorite was the wine tasting event. 

“Interesting choice,” Narcissus said. 

“Why is that?” Echo said. 

“A red would’ve paired nicely with your meal.”

“Hm. I like reds.” Echo took a sip of her white wine. “Sometimes.” 

“Like what? Sangrias?” Narcissus chuckled. 

“I don’t drink drinks sweeter than me. Unless it has cherry notes.” 

“Hm.” Narcissus tried hiding a smile behind his glass. “Cherries are my favorite fruit.” 

So the speed dating event wasn’t a total fail. Echo had found Narcissus, a man who made her feel things with every supportive note, glance and joke.  

*****

“Echo!” Narcissus called from the balcony. “Come look at this.” 

It was the first nice day of autumn. Echo only remembered because he was wearing a burnt orange sweater that brought out the blond highlights in his hair. When she opened the door to the apartment, Narcissus had the biggest smile on his face as he complimented her green sweater, which matched her eyes. Then they both whisper-chanted “Sweater Weather” until one of Echo’s neighbors entered the hallway, confused. 

“What is it?” Echo sat down the coffee cups on the table in front of him. “You know those smartphones creep me out.” Before leaving her beloved mountain, Echo only had a landline. 

“Instagram.” Narcissus took her hands. “I, too, was a skeptic, but it’s been live now for three months. Julius and I —” 

“So it’s for work only?” 

“Well, no. It’s both?” Narcissus ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, I’m using it to promote my photography business, but I also post myself. My self-portraits get a lot of positive —” Narcissus trailed on, listing all the comments underneath what he called “selfies.” 

His excitement over this new app and what it could do for his career made it seem like anything was possible. Echo knew dating an artist meant long hours working and bouncing from project to project; she was one herself. But she was a different kind of artist. Echo taught people how to connect with the Earth through ancient beliefs and powers. Echo’s favorite was the ancient Greeks, who seemed to have an explanation for everything. So when Narcissus became more absorbed with his selfies and the growing business he had with Julius, she asked the ancient gods for advice on a whim. To her surprise, it was Zeus himself who answered — she had expected a lower god like Koalemos, not the king. 

Zeus watched Echo’s cheeks change color. He liked what he saw. “I’ve been watching you, Echo. Your love for Narcissus —” Zeus stopped. He had to make sure his lie was convincing. “It’s genuine. Something rare in the mortal realm.” 

Echo sighed in relief before unloading her worries about Narcissus’s obsession, about how he was seeing her and the world less and less. As Zeus listened, he took in her smell, her dark wavy hair, the way her green eyes darkened and her hands clenched when she said “selfies” — he had never seen so much grace in a human before. Zeus wondered how she would take living on Olympus with him.  

“I think I can help you,” Zeus said. 

“Really?” Echo said. “I just don’t want him missing what’s around him. His love for the world is his main inspiration.” She paused. “Besides me, of course.” 

This made Zeus laugh. “Of course, my love.” 

“Just to have him back for the weekends. Maybe a Friday once in a while —” 

“You’re both busy people —” 

“Yes, but that wasn’t a problem before. Before, we had a balance. If —” 

“Here,” Zeus waved his hands, and out of thin air popped a small bottle filled with a sparkling liquid. “Drink this, then say your name three times when you’re close to him. But it only works if he can’t see you.” 

Echo took the bottle. It was cold. “And he would be mine once more?”

There was a pause before Zeus answered. “Of course.”

***** 

For all her determination before the King of the Gods, Echo didn’t take the potion. Weeks flew by. She blinked, and then it was her and Narcissus’s six-month anniversary. Well, her, Narcissus and Instagram’s — a throuple Echo didn’t approve of. Narcissus still came over, they still had their dates, but each day he seemed more distant. Instead of being five minutes late to something he was thirty minutes late. On the rare occasion when he was able to pry himself away from his phone, things were what it once was. Echo held on to those moments as best she could, but it was getting harder. The anniversary dinner had been one of those moments, but by the end of the night, with Narcissus back on the app, she could barely even feel it, like a fantasy of the past instead of a memory.

This is unbearable. This silence, that blue light, the sound of Narcissus’s double-tapping thumb. She escaped to the bathroom. On the sink stood Zeus’s bottle. For weeks it had mocked her, her hesitation, her foolishness. She had wanted to believe that an app — an app! — wouldn’t consume her love. But look at them now. Echo snatched up the bottle. It was as cold as the day she received it, the liquid glittering even in the bathroom’s dirty light. Inviting.

She held her breath when she drank it, but it tasted like nothing. Going out to the living room, she saw Narcissus stressing over his latest post. 

“Echo,” she said.

It happened too fast. Narcissus’s head snapped up. His skin turned gray. Horrible choking noises came from his throat. Terrified, Echo grabbed a glass of water and made him drink until the choking stopped.  

“I don’t know —“ Narcissus coughed, leaning into her.  “I don’t know what happened. It was like air was being sucked out of me.” Minutes passed. Narcissus put his forehead against hers and tucked her hair behind her ears, kissing her softly. “Thank you.” 

Echo smiled. She opened her mouth to say how much she loved him.

“Echo.”

Narcissus’s eyes went wide. Choking. Coughing. Hissing. Echo watched helplessly as Narcissus reached out to her, his fingers grasping at the air he was so desperate to have. Her name. Her name had done that. Her name was doing that to him! Echo heard herself scream — Nar-cis-sus. His name. How often had she said his name? And yet now it wouldn’t come, for somewhere between her heart and her mouth, his name had been chopped and twisted, and all that came out was —

“Echo!”

Echo put her hands over her mouth. Before her eyes, she saw just what Zeus had intended. Water wouldn’t help Narcissus now. She saw his throat collapse on itself, saw his lungs give out just as his heart danced for the last time. Zeus didn’t want to help her. Zeus wanted her. And to get her, in his three-thousand-year-old logic …

Narcissus was dead before she finished the thought. What was a mortal to an immortal god?

Echo’s tears came in streams that trickled down onto her lover’s beautiful face. But then a cold rush of air dried them all up. Zeus’s presence was cold and quiet, in a way just like her stricken rage. He stood before her, offering his hand. 

“Come home with me.” It wasn’t a question. 

Looking up, Echo saw the gold-eyed god look down at her. He wore the same shining robes he had on the first day they met, but this time she saw the red under his fingernails, the grime that clung to his teeth, the sinister glare he had in his eyes. This, a god? 

She had her voice back now. It rose in her, ready to unleash her wrath onto the being before her, but that was unnecessary. Since when has it taken much to sour greed? To spoil lust? To enrage a powerful man? 

“No.”

The god’s expression changed the way the sky changed preceding a storm. Echo knew not to anger a god. But Narcissus was gone. The one person that made life worth living was gone, and it was his fault.

“It’s a mistake to deny me,” Zeus bellowed. “From this day forward, girl, you will never have the first word again.” 

With his curse given, Zeus disappeared, never to be seen again. But then again, what was a mortal to an immortal god?

*****

The doctors ruled Narcissus’s death as a heart attack. Echo and what remained of Narcissus’s family held a small closed funeral. If Zeus was watching, he must be damn well pleased with himself. “Are you okay?” someone from his family would ask Echo, and all she could say was “Okay, okay, okay.” “We’ll miss Narcissus.” “Narcissus, Narcissus, Narcissus.” “Oh, marvelous boy, farewell.” “Farewell, farewell, farewell.”

On a whim, Echo logged into Narciss’s Instagram account. What was this thing that stole so much of his living moments — his limited living moments?  Instantly she regretted it. The selfies he took were abundant, but tried as she might, she couldn’t hold onto them for memory or solace, for he wasn’t hers, not on here. He was everybody’s. Narcissus’s timeline was flooded with so many memorial posts that Echo found it hard to put the phone down. “I can’t believe you’re gone.” “I’ll miss you, buddy.” “You were gone too soon.” Most were from people she had never heard of. His sweet smile jumped out at her every hour, accompanied by a stranger’s words of love — identical, incessant, intolerable, worse than in an echo chamber, worse than an endless funeral, worse than any curse. It became too much to bear. She rid herself of the phone for good. It wasn’t months later that people began to wonder if she had rid herself of the city, too, and where she might have gone.

It was rumored that she had moved to a cabin deep in the woods where there was no civilization, much less cell reception. But it was also rumored that she never went anywhere, for once in a while those who knew her would hear her, in empty and cavernous places, repeating their words back to them, sad and blurry. Some others maintained that she had gone East to be an Instagram influencer, making big bucks to repeat ads for air purifiers, athleisure wear, beauty activated-charcoal masks, masks, masks …