Echo and Narcissus

In the ancient forests of Greece, where sunlight filtered through emerald leaves and crystal streams sang their way to the sea, there lived a mountain nymph named Echo. She was known throughout the woodland realm for her melodious voice and her gift for storytelling. Whenever the other nymphs gathered, Echo could enchant them for hours with her tales, her laughter ringing like silver bells through the trees.

But Echo possessed one quality that would prove to be her downfall: she loved to talk, and more than that, she loved to have the last word in every conversation.

This trait caught the attention of Hera, queen of the gods, though not in the way Echo might have hoped. For Zeus, Hera’s husband, had developed a habit of slipping away from Mount Olympus to visit the beautiful nymphs of the forest. Whenever Hera came searching for her wayward husband, Echo would cleverly distract the goddess with fascinating stories and endless chatter, giving Zeus time to escape undetected.

“My lady Hera,” Echo would say, stepping into the goddess’s path, “have you heard the tale of the river god who fell in love with a cloud? It’s quite remarkable, you see, because…”

And while Echo spun her elaborate tales, Zeus would quietly slip away to safety.

This deception continued for some time until Hera finally discovered the truth. The queen of gods was furious at being outwitted by a mere nymph.

“So, Echo,” Hera said, her voice cold as winter wind, “you love to talk so much, and you always must have the last word? Very well. From this day forward, you shall have your wish—but not as you expect. You will indeed have the last word, but it will be the ONLY word you can speak. Never again will you speak first; you may only repeat the final words that others say to you.”

With that terrible curse, Hera vanished, leaving Echo alone in the forest, her gift for conversation stripped away forever.

Echo tried desperately to speak, to tell her sister nymphs what had happened, but when she opened her mouth, no words came until someone else spoke first.

“Echo, what’s wrong?” asked one of her friends.

“…wrong?” was all Echo could reply.

“Why won’t you talk to us?”

“…talk to us?”

“This is very strange!”

“…very strange!”

Heartbroken and ashamed, Echo fled deep into the mountains, hiding herself away from all company, convinced that her cursed speech made her unfit for the society of others.

Meanwhile, in a village not far from Echo’s mountain refuge, there lived a young man named Narcissus. He was perhaps the most beautiful youth who had ever walked the earth—his features were so perfect they seemed carved by the gods themselves, his hair shone like spun gold, and his eyes were the color of the deepest forest pools.

But Narcissus’s beauty was matched only by his cruelty and vanity. He scorned everyone who tried to befriend him, believing that no one was worthy of his attention. Countless young men and women had fallen in love with him, but he rejected them all with harsh words and cold laughter.

“You think yourself worthy of my love?” he would sneer at his admirers. “Look at yourself, then look at me. How dare you presume to reach so high above your station?”

One spring morning, as Narcissus wandered through Echo’s mountain forest hunting deer, the lonely nymph caught sight of him and was instantly, hopelessly smitten. She followed him silently through the trees, her heart pounding with love and longing.

When Narcissus became separated from his companions, he called out, “Is anyone there?”

From her hiding place behind an ancient oak, Echo’s heart leaped. Finally, someone had spoken first! She could answer!

“…there!” she replied.

Narcissus looked around in confusion. “Come out and show yourself!”

“…show yourself!” Echo called back, longing to obey but afraid of revealing her cursed condition.

“Let’s meet!” Narcissus called, growing curious.

“…meet!” Echo responded joyfully.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Echo stepped out from behind the trees and ran toward Narcissus with open arms, ready to embrace the young man she already loved with all her heart.

But when Narcissus saw the nymph approaching, his face twisted with disgust and contempt.

“Get away from me!” he snarled. “I would rather die than let you touch me! Your love means nothing to me!”

Echo stopped as if struck by lightning, her arms still outstretched, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

“…nothing to me,” she whispered, the cruel words forced from her own lips.

Narcissus laughed harshly and walked away, leaving Echo alone in the clearing with tears streaming down her face.

From that day forward, Echo’s sorrow consumed her. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped caring for herself in any way. Her flesh wasted away until only her bones remained, and eventually, even those crumbled to dust. But her voice remained, lingering in the mountains and caves, forever doomed to repeat the last words spoken by others.

As for Narcissus, his cruelty did not go unnoticed by the gods. Nemesis, the goddess of divine retribution, decided that he needed to learn what it felt like to love someone who could never love him back.

One afternoon, as Narcissus traveled through a remote part of the forest, he came upon a perfectly still pool of water, its surface so clear and smooth it was like a mirror made of liquid crystal. Exhausted from his journey, Narcissus knelt by the pool to drink.

But when he bent over the water, he saw the most beautiful face he had ever beheld looking back at him. The youth in the pool had eyes like stars, hair like sunshine, and lips that seemed to beckon with unspoken promises of love.

“Who are you?” Narcissus whispered to the reflection. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen!”

The reflection’s lips moved, but no sound emerged from the water.

Narcissus reached out to touch the beautiful face, but the moment his fingers touched the water’s surface, the image dissolved into ripples. He pulled his hand back quickly, and the face reappeared, looking at him with what seemed like longing.

“Don’t be afraid,” Narcissus said softly. “I won’t hurt you. I… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The face in the water appeared to mouth the same words, and Narcissus felt his heart skip with joy.

“You feel the same way!” he exclaimed. “Oh, my beautiful love, come out of the water so we can be together!”

But no matter how he pleaded, the beautiful youth in the pool would not emerge. Narcissus tried kissing the water, but the image would disappear. He tried reaching into the pool, but his hands grasped only water. The harder he tried to hold his beloved, the more impossible it became.

Hours passed, then days. Narcissus refused to leave the pool’s edge, unable to tear himself away from the beautiful face that looked back at him with such apparent love and longing. He stopped eating, stopped drinking anything but the water from the pool, stopped sleeping except for brief moments when exhaustion overcame him.

“Why do you torment me so?” he cried to his reflection. “Every time I try to kiss you, you vanish! Every time I reach for you, you slip away! Do you not love me as I love you?”

From somewhere in the mountains came an echo of his words: “…love you?”

It was Echo’s voice, still carrying through the wilderness, still repeating the words of others. But Narcissus, obsessed with his reflection, didn’t even notice.

As days turned to weeks, Narcissus grew thinner and paler, wasting away just as Echo had done. His beautiful features became gaunt, his golden hair lost its luster, and his eyes grew hollow with longing.

“I understand now,” he whispered to his reflection as his strength began to fail. “You are trapped, just as I am trapped. We can see each other, we can love each other, but we can never truly be together. Oh, cruel fate! To find perfect love only to discover it can never be fulfilled!”

With his final breath, Narcissus stretched one last time toward the face in the water, whispering, “I love you… even in death, I will love you…”

“…love you…” echoed through the mountains, Echo’s voice carrying his last words to the heavens.

As Narcissus died, his body began to change. His flesh dissolved into the earth, his bones became roots, and from the spot where he had lain, a beautiful white flower sprouted—the first narcissus flower, with its white petals surrounding a golden center that always bends down toward any nearby water, as if still trying to reach its reflection.

And they say that if you visit a pool in the mountains and call out across the water, you can still hear Echo’s voice answering you from the cliffs and caves, forever repeating your words but never able to speak her own. She remains there still, a warning about the power of words and the pain of unrequited love.

As for the narcissus flowers, they bloom every spring by streams and pools throughout the world, their golden centers gazing eternally downward at their own reflections, a reminder that sometimes the greatest curse is to get exactly what we think we want.

The ancient Greeks told this story to teach their children about the dangers of vanity and cruelty, and the importance of seeing beyond mere appearances to the true worth of a person’s heart. For in the end, both Echo and Narcissus were victims of their own flaws—she of her need to always speak, he of his inability to truly see others—and both learned too late that love requires more than just words or beauty; it requires kindness, understanding, and the courage to look beyond oneself.