Long ago, the Cyclopes were led by brave warrior women who took care of their island and its rich culture. They met daily in a cave to discuss important matters and made fearsome raids on neighboring islands for resources. One day, a strange boat washed ashore, causing disagreement among the women about its meaning. When the men intervened violently, a battle broke out, leading to the near destruction of the women. In the end, the men took control, and the island lost its customs and traditions, becoming a shadow of its former self.
Long before the days of the heroes, long before Polyphemus gained an appetite for lost sailors, and long before the curse of Poseidon changed the course of that lying Odysseus's trek home, the island of the Cyclopes was a blooming colony. They tilled the farmland, they grew crops intentionally and with careful planning and math, and they attempted to keep their culture and education alive with schoolhouse caves full of slates and drawings. This flourishing society. naturally, was upheld by the warrior women clan of the Cyclopic people.
The leadership of the island of the Cyclopes was the warrior women clan. They would meet every day: young and old, able-bodied and stiff, haughty and simple, they all gathered in a cave emblazoned with the history of their people splashed across the cave walls in beautiful drawings. They had no written language, but their drawing skills (even with one eye) were remarkable. They held the club of their first warrior woman Cyclops leader to take turns discussing their opinions and concerns with the rest of the group. Rarely did they ever smash each other to bits when they disagreed. That was, for the most part, the job of the Cyclopic men. This violent behavior displeased their father Poseidon, who created them all, and their destruction of one another always saddened and angered him
For many generations, the warrior women clan of Cyclops prolected and provided fortheir homeland. They had struggled brutally to retain their island and keep it mysterious to other surrounding nations so they could live the rest of their lives in harmony and peace. They did this, these crafty and prodigous creatures, with the aid of their beautiful boats. The warrior women cyclops sailed to nearby islands, striking fear into the hearts of all the inhabitants they met, for at this time, the women Cyclops were twice as large and twice as fearsome as the men Cyclops were. They harvested all they could from the neighboring islands, grabbing new breeds of sheep and barley for their own, and before they left, they threatened each island to never come looking for them for revenge. After they returned with their spoils of sailing, realizing their fearsome tactics had worked, the women had all voted to burn all of their boats, as they were finished with their seafaring now that they had everything they could need.
As children of Poseidon, the sea still looked favorably upon them, bestowing them gifts that drifted in on the shores from the greater world. The colony never was without. Recently. however, the warrior women had noticed these gifts had begun to lessen. The men were not concerned. They said that as children of Poseidon, and favorable in Zeus's eye, they did not need to change anything or get too excited. All would be right in the end. This, they said, after drinking bellies full of wine and lying down next to their flocks of sheep for the first of many naps of the day.One fateful day, a strange wind blew one final gift to the foggy shores of the Cyclops's island: a boat. The women warriors met in their cave and held the club to take turns talking.They could not come to a decision. Some of the warriors felt that this boat was a sign from Poseidon to return to their neighboring islands and complete another round of scaring the inhabitants. Some thought it was a frightening omen that someone had already discovered them, and it was only a matter of time before they were ambushed. Some warriors were convinced that it was not even a boat at all, for it had been many years since they had properly seen one. The only thing they had to reference were the old cave drawings of their once beautiful fleet of ships. They argued and argued, and finally they were so loud and fearsome that they woke the men. The men were not usually a part of the council meetings, but they were angry at the warrior women for disrupting their leisure time. The men barged into the council cave. They did not hold the club. They did not take turns listening or talking. They smudged the walls of the caves so that the ancient paint started to bleed together. They all shouted over the warrior women to end this nonsense and get rid of the boat, or the men would get rid of them.
Some say that the Cyclops battled for years. Some say that it happened in a single day. Whatever occurred, the mountains were smashed to bits, the caves were destroyed with fewer left to inhabit, and the warrior women of the Cyclops were all but wiped out. The sea was stained pink with their defeat. The remaining few women were so terrified that they hid in their caves and would not come out. This lasted so long that the women started to shrink in size.Shortly after the destruction of the warrior women Cyclops, some say that it was revealed that the men Cyclops had fashioned the boat in the first place. Poseidon, too, seemed to recognize this trick, for a fierce storm blew over the island for thirty days and nights. The caves that had been beautifully painted with the history of the people were stripped bare, washed clean by the surging tides. The tablets were smashed to bits. All of the harvest rows were uprooted and demolished. The men were not phased by the storm. When it broke, all they decided to do was take the remaining warriors as wives and move into their caves without permission. They were now too small and too few to protest. Nothing was ever discussed about repainting the caves, digging out the destroyed caves, or replanting the crops. The men had never learned any of those things anyway.
Years went by, and the memory of these traditions became as foggy as the island. There were no more councils or rules. There was no more drawing. There was no more education, and to keep his children alive, Poseidon took pity on the colony; though nobody managed things on the island, they still had just enough to get by. The land was never tilled again, the paint brushes were tossed into the sea, and the Cyclops became a society known to all as a people without customs.
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