Medusa

Medusa sat silently by the pool, gazing at her reflection in the
still water. When the gorgon subsided she took on the appearance of a
normal, mortal woman, as she had been before the curse: a beautiful
woman, smooth, dark-skinned, with big clear hazel eyes and dreadlocked
hair. She had once been a high priestess, someone who had possesed an
unusual ability to commune with the spirits of plants and animals. And
even though now she was part monster/part human; the collective spirit
of the plants and animals seemed to remember her former glory and loved
her still.

As if in answer to her thoughts two sparrows flew down beside her. One
of them stood on the pool's edge, and the other rested on her shoulder.
All animals loved her; they felt like her only friends in this world -
all animals: wolves, tigers, lions, bears, birds, even crocodiles had
sat next to her, had comforted her. She loved them all in return. None
would hurt her in any way, they seemed to revere her.

But the jealousy of a Goddess is not something to take lightly. The
Goddess Athena had found Medusa in the arms of the man she herself
loved and desired; had found them lost in a moment of heated passion on
the floor of her very own temple. In her outrage she had punished them
both: smiting Medusa with the gorgon curse, so that when she looked
into the eyes of her lover - he was immediately turned to stone. From
that day on, Medusa was cursed never to love another again, cursed to
wander the earth alone, to try and make sense of what had become of
her. Cursed to live with the memory that she had turned the only man
she had ever loved to stone. The revenge of a Goddess..

Over time though, she had grown accustomed to what had happened to her.
And learnt of ways to subdue the gorgon; finding she could will herself
back to how she had looked before the curse. But regaining her original
beauty gave only the appearance of control, for within her the gorgon
would grow restless with it's hunger for death, and taking over, would
go upon rampage after rampage, killing and leaving nothing but terror
in it's wake.. the reminder of Athena's curse.
So Medusa had learnt to work with her darker self over the long hard
years, learnt to give it what it wanted in exchange for it giving her
what she wanted.. her former self back.

But she was tired now, so tired, for too long she had wandered this
earth... too long. She desperately wanted release, longed for death.
Many people dreamed of what it would be like to live forever; but she
knew and she hated it.

A tear welled in her eye as she watched the happy/sad mortals go about
their daily lives in the park. Scenes of lone poets sat with a notebook
under the trees. Lovers on park benches discussing the politics of
romance. Roller blading keep fit fanatics with headphones to drown out
the concrete stress. Oneday they would all die, all of them, would no
longer be tied down by the laws of gravity, or the economic and social
systems of this world. They didn't realise how lucky they all were.
Death wasn't something to be feared, or to fight against, it was God's
gift to them.

As she watched them, she began to remember her former mortality. But
that time was vague now, just the odd glimmer of what it had been like
before she had become this monster... like a pleasant dream she
desperately clutched at for some semblance of hope; all the lives she
had taken since that fateful day.. so many lives. Surely she was cursed
now never to taste the sweet fragrance of heaven. She stared intensely
at her reflection in the water and suddenly as she did - her dreadlocks
came alive and changed into hissing snakes, her eyes narrowed and shone
translucent green. The sparrows startled, flew away suddenly. She gazed
at her gorgon image in the water, but nothing happened. She had tried
it many times before, but the spell didn't work on her. She relaxed,
her hair changing from snakes back to dreadlocks again, her eyes going
from green to hazel.

She got up and made her way back to her flat. It would soon be time
for work, and she needed to get ready. She worked as a singer in a
nightclub.

Medusa was a good singer, with a haunting voice; it was as if all the
ages she had lived through had become part of her voice. And when she
sang, people wept, people were enchanted, people changed... well some
of them.

A large amount of people who congregated in these clubs were the
wealthy and upper classes. And occasionally after her performance she
would get approached by some of them in her dressing room, asking her
if she would like to sing for them at a private party. She would agree
to do this. Medusa over the long years had grown to hate the rich; had
grown to despise the cruel divides between the rich and the poor; felt
anger at the injustice of poverty and exploitation.. and this was one
of the ways that she gave her gorgon self what it wanted.

She would sing for these rich men and women. Go back to their lucious
pads of sickening comfort, wait till they were alone, seduce them, lull
them into a false sense of security; listen with disdain as they made
their pathetic excuses for their lack of compassion towards the poor.
Listen with boredom as they talked endlessly about themselves and their
great achievements. How they lolled in their piles of wealth, me me me.
Framed in a big picture of their selfish egocentric perception of the
world.

Oh how they talked, she would watch them, never speaking, as they
undressed... their genitals aroused with heat and passion for the
lovemaking. Her ancient naked body filling them with dark desire. She
would watch and then let her gorgon self have its prey. The look of
horror on their empty money love faces, the look of shock, of
disbelief, oh though she hated her curse, at times it gave her great
pleasure. Great satisfaction to become their worst nightmare, to
torment these selfish tyrants. She loved watching them plead with her
for their lives. Her green snakes hissing at them. Her green eyes
burning right into their souls, devouring them. How they hated to see
themselves as they truly were. No-one could gaze into the eyes of
Medusa and live, no-one. For those eyes reflected the truth, drained
you of your essence, petrified you with your own soul.

Oh that wonderful moment when they became inanimate stone. A
sculpture, a work of art. Cold statues of heartless greed. Something
that showed so well the empty stone of the richmans world. That's what
the gorgon stare had become to her now: a tool. A tool for creating
works of art. She was an artist: framing these people in their most
naked soul moments - freezing them for the world to see. On every
statue she signed her name and gave it a unique title describing the
piece; then would make a discreet phonecall to the authorities.

The police didn't have a clue that they were actually dealing with the
real thing. They called the serial killer 'The Medusa' as a nickname,
believing he/she was a clever scientist, using a new technique to turn
his/her victims to stone: a technique they believed speeded up the
process of fossilization in some way, a technique which of course the
military were very keen to get their hands on.

It made her laugh when she read the papers or turned on the TV.

Humans with their technological triumphs, safe in their illusions;
forgetting that there are still things that walk the earth which they
know nothing about. Old things, ancient things. Things they are better
off not knowing about.

The Medusa to them now was the television sets and computer screens.
How could she even begin to compete with that. Millions upon millions
of frozen people sat staring into the mass produced technological
gorgon; sat staring whilst the real gorgon walked amongst them
un-suspected - creating modern works of art. Their disbelief in myths
her invisibility.. and also her beauty.