Stone tears

Medusa and Arachne

Stone tears

A cave in Greece, that’s where she had lived, secluded from others, not to cause grief. Until that one day when the spider came. The rebellious arachnid had already learned her lesson, but she came to release that burden for her flesh and blood.
That torturing stone, heavy like the
rock that Sisyphus has been doomed to carry forever for his rebellious demeanor.

“We will not end up like Sisyphus, my dear blood.” Arachne comforted her as she entered the cave. The sound echoed through the cave, gradually slipping into
cursed ears, doomed for life by Athena.
“S- Sister? Don’t look at me!
She turned her head to a corner of the moisty dark surface.
“You will turn to stone if you catch a glimpse of my eyes,” she trembled in fear, covering her eyes.
“No sister, you’re wrong, for I am a human no more.”

At that moment, Arachne crawled deeper into the cave, her fur clutching little water pearls, as her eight spider legs nimbly advanced forward, towards another specimen of her cursed bloodline.
“Turn around sister, and stare into my eyes as much as you want, too much time has passed for me to remember them.” She gently grabs the arm of a fellow cursed, her body: a woman, but hair: wild, horrendous, atrocious snakes.
“A- Arachne… She weeped.
I haven’t seen you in ages.”
What should be liquid, for Medusa it was not. Tears started flowing like a river, converting into shards of stone on her cheeks, her face still as beautiful as before, but now pale and miserable. Arachne looked at her face, now messy like a puddle, and her own softened, like it has many times before when she was in charge of looking after her younger sister. Medusa glanced at her body, terrified even more than anyone who saw Medusa, but still sensing her sincere sympathy and mother-like instincts. To her, that was all that has mattered, and always will. The spider had been waiting for her with open arms, and Medusa threw herself into her warm nest, hugging her tightly.
“How come you aren’t a statue yet?”
She wiped her eyes before the tears became stone.
“Have you ever turned a bug to stone?” Arachne asked.
“I see..” Medusa replied.
“Medusa, we have no time for grief, Perseus is supposed to come and decapitate you.” She said with a caring, but troubled and worried look in her eyes.
The face of a crying child turned into that of a serious adult.
“We can not change the myths about to be written, my death is the gods’ will. She glanced at the cave’s surface, with a calm, sorrowful voice.
“Have you lost hope? With this attitude, you are already dead.” She screamed in anger.
“I have learned from my mistakes, gods can not be opposed, but they can be avoided, and so can their will. F**k the gods!”
Medusa blinked, out of her trance.
She felt like a kid, seeing a storm for the first time. Suprise turned into trust, and trust into determination. Together, with a glimpse of hope, they disappeared, but the myths and prophecies have stayed the same.

Author's Note

What do you think?