I'm Hercules, So What? I’ve Got a PhD in Myths!

"Dr. Matthews, your 2 o'clock is here. It's that student who keeps insisting the Trojan Horse was an actual horse."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Send him in, Janice. And maybe have some chamomile tea ready for me afterward?"

As I waited for my office door to open, I couldn't help but reflect on the absurd turn my academic career had taken. 

Dr. Alexander Matthews, esteemed professor of Ancient Greek Mythology at Westfield University, now reduced to debunking Hollywood-inspired theories from overzealous undergrads.

The door creaked open, revealing a lanky student clutching a stack of papers that I'm sure contained "irrefutable proof" of his equine delusions. 

As I braced myself for the impending headache, I couldn't help but wonder - Is this really what I signed up for when I decided to dedicate my life to the study of Greek mythology?

Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. 

Or at least, I used to. 

There's something magical about delving into the stories that have shaped Western civilization for millennia. The epic tales of gods and heroes, the profound metaphors hidden in ancient narratives – it's all fascinating stuff.

But lately, I've been feeling... unfulfilled.

"Dr. Matthews?" The student's voice snapped me back to reality.

"I've compiled a list of ancient horse breeds that could have feasibly been used for the Trojan Horse. If we cross-reference this with the average size of Trojan doorways..."

I nodded politely, my mind already drifting. 

What I wouldn't give to experience these myths firsthand, to see if the reality matched up to the legends we've built around them. But that's impossible, of course. I'm stuck here, in this stuffy office, arguing about the logistics of wooden horses with these brats who were not even wet behind their ears.

But what can I do? I need the salary from the University to continue this pathetic life. The Last thing I wanted was to be sued by the student's parents for splitting his head open

Ah..! Sometimes I wonder, would that be better? At least I would have cleared one task from my bucket list.

Anyway, an hour later, after gently steering my student towards more productive areas of research and away from horse architecture, I found myself alone in my office once more.

The setting sun cast a golden glow over the bookshelves lining my walls, each tome a window into a world I could only imagine.

My eyes fell on my prized possession - a first edition of Robert Graves' "The Greek Myths." 

I'd saved for years to afford it, and it held a place of honor on my desk. Absentmindedly, I reached out to stroke its worn leather cover.

"What I wouldn't give to see it all for myself," I muttered, a wistful smile playing on my lips. "To meet Hercules, to witness his legendary feats..."

Just as I was mumbling that, a sharp knock at the door interrupted my daydreaming. "Come in," I called out, expecting Janice with my much-needed tea.

Instead, a wizened old man shuffled into my office, his beard so long it nearly touched the floor. He carried a dusty, leather-bound book in his gnarled hands.

"Dr. Matthews?" His voice creaked like ancient timber.

"Yes," I answered back. "And who might you be?"

I asked curiously as this was the first time I had seen this old man.

Then a thought crossed my mind, could it be...some student invited their great-great-grandfather to have a scholarly debate with me?

But that didn't seem to be the case.

"Just a humble collector," he replied with a wink that seemed oddly mischievous for someone his age.

"But that's not important, What's important is that I have something that might interest you."

He placed the book on my desk, and I immediately felt drawn to it.

"I've come across this diary in my travels. I believe it's right up your alley."

Intrigued despite my exhaustion, I gestured for him to sit. 

The cover of the book was unmarked, but the leather seemed impossibly old. With trembling hands, I opened it, and a wave of musty air washed over me.

The pages were filled with strange symbols and cryptic writings.

Some I recognized from my studies, others were completely foreign to me. But one word, repeated throughout, caught my eye.

 "Hercules."

I didn't know how I knew it, but I instantly realized that the word meant exactly that.

"This is... incredible," I breathed, my academic excitement overriding my usual skepticism. 

"Where did you find this?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Let's just say it's been on quite a journey to reach you, Dr. Matthews. But I must warn you – this is no ordinary book. The knowledge it contains... it comes with a price."

I barely registered his words, too engrossed in the mysterious text before me.

"Thank you, this is... wait, what do you mean by a price....Huh?"

But when I looked up, the old man was gone. 

The only evidence of his visit was the ancient diary lying open on my desk, its pages seeming to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

As the last rays of sunlight faded from my office, I found myself at a crossroads. 

The responsible academic in me said to call my colleagues, to have this artifact properly documented and studied. But another part of me, a part I thought long buried under years of scholarly cynicism, urged me to dive in headfirst.

With a deep breath, I made my decision.

Fuck the university - I am going to read this first!

I began to read aloud, my voice growing stronger with each unfamiliar syllable. As the strange words filled the air, I felt a tingling sensation spreading through my body.

Little did I know, my life was about to change forever. The world of myth I'd studied for so long was about to become all too real...

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