Gorgoneion [Tragedy of Medusa]

This was a short stint I had with writing mythological fiction. My own take on what really happened to Medusa.

 

Chapter One: Part I:

 

It was the coldest winter that she could remember. As she walked down the cobblestone road toward the edge of the sea-side city, she giggled at  the air she breathed turning into specs of ice. She held out her hand, tiny flakes of her breath melting on her pale, supple hands. She smiled to herself. A kiss for my love.

She reached the edge of the city where a small dock was overshadowed by a huge ship. There were almost a dozen men unloading  wooden crates and several of them had become aware of her crossing the beach.  Even at 20 yards away, the girl could hear them  cracking their plump fingers to keep them from freezing stiff.

Knowing full well that she was being gawked at, she pulled off her hood. She peered over her shoulder smiling at the men as her hair flattened against her back, the moonlight kissing the perfect waves that formed in her hair. A sudden thought of where she was headed plunged her back into her thoughts. She pulled up her hood, ignoring the courting men marveling at her stellar beauty that they could see even under the night sky.

The girl smiled to herself as she continued to watch her breath. She consciously breathed out deeper just to see the midnight air form bigger flakes of ice that she pretended to put in her pocket for safe keeping.

A sudden chill ran up her spine. She tugged on the shoulder of her cloak, trying to wrap it around her body though it barely covered her shapely legs or breasts.  It was freezing, but she owned nothing warmer then this white linen cloak, a gift from the God, Athena. The thought of Athena brought more chills. By the Gods, she knows I'm here….

 A low pitched and loud scream pierced the girl's ears and she cringed, her heart skipping a beat. Instinctively and swiftly, she moved behind a boulder in the sand. One of her hands rested on her shivering belly, trying to calm herself enough to find out what had frightened her. The other hand was leaned against the rock, thought she didn’t notice it was freezing to the touch.

The cold breeze flushed her cheeks as she peered around the rock to investigate the sound. Thump thump thump…The pounding of her heart was so fast that she couldn’t tell if she was hearing it or feeling it through her chest.

The blood rushed back into her face when she realized that the sound had been an elephant horn.  The shipmaster had blown the horn to bid his departure. A rude farewell being it had just turned midnight.

She leaned her weight against the rock to stand up. As she pushed away from it her finger tips began to burn. Her soft skin had swelled when she became frightened, causing her fingertips to stick to the icy surface of the rock. As a result, her skin was ripped off of the tips of her fingers, blood began to filter through the scabrous skin. As it started to stream down her arm, her eyes widened in sudden panic. The deluged blood dripped onto the sand, her bare feet, and onto her precious white cloak. 

 An awkward silence fell over the town, and for a moment she saw the world in tangerine. Horror overwhelmed her. She started running toward the sea, hoping to clean the wound that was draining the life out of her. She looked up, hoping to capture a blue sky, a glimpse of salvation.  Instead, the clouds were twisting and moving away from her. Was this Athena punishing her?

 She could feel her pulse throbbing as she wrapped her fingers around the imbrued hand. She stopped running and stood stunned in front of the water that was now a pitch black. The waves were barely visible against the darkening crimson sky. By the Gods! What is happening!? Her feet were pulled from under her, but she was helpless and now blind. Her legs became numb up to her thighs until the darkness crept over her.

 

“Medusa!” A cold wet hand under her head was lightly shaking her to consciousness, though all she could see was darkness. “Oh, beautiful! I thought you weren’t ever coming back to me!” Suddenly the air was being sucked out of her lungs, and she couldn’t breathe. For a moment she thought she was drowning until she remembered the deep, reassuring voice that awakened her. His lips embraced hers, though they were cold and blistered. Blood rushed to her mouth. Usirus! My love, you did come! She tried to speak though her mouth dared not move away from his soft, sweet lips.

The feeling in her legs returned. Her toes were still numb and were pressed against the same rock that afflicted the wounds on her sore and freezing fingers. “You came…?” The words were caught in her throat as she tried to sit up. She blinked and rubbed her eyes until she could see again. Her vision was still plagued with the salt of the sea. She could only make out the silhouette of Usirus. “You did come!” She threw her weak arms around him and nuzzled his neck. " I brought you a kiss," she spoke as she put her hand in her cloak pocket. She laid her wounded hand on his chest. "A kiss from the heavens."  Ignoring her words, he kissed her again. This time she was shivering and the blood was draining from her face. He stood up and sighed, shaking his head at the fatigued girl.

 Usirus lifted Medusa with no restrain. She nuzzled her cold face into the warmth of his body as he wrapped his grey Himation around her. She drifted into darkness again, though her serene face proved she was only sleeping this time. He carried her for two miles before he stopped to catch his breath. She was sleeping comatosely in his arms, her legs lifeless and cold, face as pale as the sand in the moonlight, but her lips were still warm with Usirus’ kiss.

 

 

Chapter 1: Part II

 

Medusa had just opened her eyes as they approached a rocky cave dug into the side of a cliff. She had been sleeping the better half of 3 hours as Usirus carried her the entire time. His energy was drained and his plodded pace reflected that. His breath was short and caustic; the burning in his chest had only been intensified by the weight of the girl, though she was not more then a hundred pounds. Despite the pain, he was desperate to feel her lips on his again.

He sighed with relief as they reached the cave. Aegis olive vines were dangling over the entrance, a pathetic attempt to hide the secret getaway. As they floated past the flowered vines, Medusa ripped a dark olive flower off of it. For a moment she thought she heard a scream.

“Let me down now.”

“Are you sure you can stand? You lost a lot of blood, my love. Let me carry you to rest.” His voice was painted with worry. He looked at the beautiful girl, his eyes soft and enamored with the flesh in his arms. She was smiling at him, almost mocking his concern, her lips curling into her cheeks. He noticed that her face was recovering its normal fair color, and her satirical charm was back. He grinned back at her, pinching her bottom playfully.

“Aye, sweet Usirus, you may carry me to rest.” She laid her head back on his shoulder and combed his hair with her fingers. With the blood stained fingers, she twisted the olive flower, watching the petals turn from a dark hue, to an iridescent red.

“These flowers are of the Gods!” She sat up in his arms again, frightened. The weight shift startled Usirus and he almost lost his hold on her. She jumped out of his arms despite his attempt to regain his grasp. “My goddess, my goddess…she knows we are here!” Medusa’s eyes were wide with panic. She clutched her white robe, her knuckles turning white. She studied the olive flower, her eyes unyielding. She was looking for something…

“My love…” He leaned over her shoulder and spoke softly into her ear, his breath delicately dancing chills down her neck.  She closed her eyes. He was suddenly aware that her cloak was unable to curtain her swelling breasts, or her hurried breathing. He grinned as he leaned into her neck, his breath caressing her soft, honeyed skin. “Volim Te…” He spoke in his native Croatian tongue, the words seducing a lustful moan from her shivering lips.

As he began to kiss her neck, there was a sudden harrowing scream. He was pushed away as she started writhing in pain, gripping her wounded hand; blood was again streaming down her arm. “It….It bit me….” Her words were broken and tainted with anger.

“Of course it would, you damned harlot!” A bold and feminine voice was booming over them. The two looked up, seeing nothing but the roughing of the rock that was harboring them, but they both were fully conscious of who it was.

There was no chance for them to fortify themselves against the formless presence. A hostile force pushed Medusa into the stony stockade sending her eyes rolling back into her skull, and causing her to bite her own tongue. “How dare you disgrace the temple of Acropolis with your petty coitus schemes?” The voice was against Medusa’s ear, the murderous tone alarming her.  Her algid blood numbed her chest and fingers. Instinctively, Medusa licked at the blood slowly pooling by her lethargic tongue, realizing she could barely feel it stream past her teeth.

 A harsh hand violently wiped the blood that was coursing out of Medusa’s mouth down her salty, bloody lips.  As she reached for her darling Usirus, who was also terror-stricken, Medusa was again thrust against the rocky wall, this time by her throat. The girl steals a glance at her lover, though he is struck motionless, his dark eyes petrified.  

A white silhouette of a hand against Medusa’s skin was visibly wrapped around the girl’s neck. Her chin was raised and the wrinkles of her squinted eyes signifying that she couldn’t breathe. She was choking. Her bloodied hand was thrusting in the air as she tried to grab a hold of the unseen attacker but it would not relent.

“My promiscuous little priestess…You disgrace the spirit of this cloak and your chasteness. You dishonor your promise.” As the last scornful word is bitten off, the unconscious Medusa is let go, her inanimate body falling to the floor.

Usirus fell to his knees in lament. To him, she was undeniably dead. His body contorted in pain as the heartache was too much to bear. As if holding his broken heart would bring her back, he grabbed his chest, digging his nails into his skin. The blood trickling through the broken skin treaded down his bare chest to his navel and pooled there.  His eyes piercing the angelic beauty lying lifeless in front of him. The blood left his face pale though it felt feverish. His life, his love, his capability of breathing was drained from his chest as he continued to rip at it with maniacal reasoning.

“The Olive flower.” Suddenly a beautiful woman draped in a white silken chiton appeared in front of Usirus and his terrified eyes were pealed away from his lovely, lifeless Medusa. “I poisoned her with the flower, my sweet, beautiful boy. She is merely in repose. Let her rest while I may speak with you.”   A chilling chuckle crept from the woman’s lustrous lips.  

 

The Ironic affair between Medusa and young Usirus stirred up dark, covetous feelings in Athena.  At that moment she recalled Medusa coming to her at a pubescent age, ripe with womanhood and being courted by every lustful man that caught sight of her ambrosial beauty.

There had been one man in particular that made Athena bitterly jealous of Medusa’s beauty.

Ophelos was the mortal son of an Athenian blacksmith. Even at a young age, the boy had caught Athena’s attention with his brawn and virile musk. He had grown taller then his father within his 12^th year, and by 16 he had grown as tall as the city wall at over 6 feet.

Athena secretly admired and loved the boy even at his young tender age, but alas she was forbidden by her father Zeus to lie with the young boy. Though he had laid many times with mortal women who bore many children to him, he still denied his virginal daughter to know man.

Despite her Zeus’ illogical demands, she would spend weeks watching Ophelos. Noting his every move, his feelings and his tender desires. She would appear to him in his dreams, a carnal plot to wet his desire for a woman’s warmth.

 

Most times she would dwell in his deepest desire unrobed, a delicate, angelic body pressed against him. His nose filled with the scent of her hair, the olive oiled strands dancing on his broad shoulder, the titillating strokes arousing him.  Her tongue would delicately play on his lips and mouth, fostering his excitement.

 As his heart melted with lust, every dream only aggravating the longing.

 

Author's Note

Some grammar or spelling may be bad. This hasnt been worked on in months, so be gentle =D Should I continue this?

Reviews

[Maudie]

Fun story, I enjoyed the read. The only things that I see that need a little polishing are your tenses. I noticed that you jumped from past to present. For example:

"Medusa was again thrust against the rocky wall, this time by her throat. The girl steals a glance at her lover, though he is struck motionless, his dark eyes petrified."

Should read something more like "The girl stole a glance at her lover, though he was struck..."

But all in all it was fun, interesting, etc... I would read more!

[Larry Dyson]

beautiful images created by lovely metaphorical weavings.

[JRB]

this was enjoyable and i agree with maudie.jan/uisiom

[Brandon Meyers]

I love Greek mythology, and found myself very entertained by this story. You have a good voice, and pull the reader into the story at a good pace. Looking forward to reading more. Nice write!