Medusa's Reflection

Written by: April Wahlin

Edited by: Talese Shertzer

~

People had once flocked from all over Greece to see the magnificent Temple of Athena. The land had been a paradise before the goddess herself punished it. Now, the island lay barren, the trees leafless—naught but a forest of skeletal silhouettes starkly etched by the setting sun. Ancient abandoned vessels lined the tiny coast, marking the waters where they rose to the shallow's edge. The ships, once the pride of their various regions, now floated desolate and dead, nothing more than additions to a cryptic collection. Much as their masters to Medusa's ever-expanding Stone Garden.

Medusa slithered across the deserted ruins that served as her prison. Squinting against the sun, she gazed down at the shore, recalling the island's former glory. Lately, the threat of a new ship on the horizon seemed ever-present. Black marks on the edge of her vision. The one now was just a speck in the distance. Soon enough it would breach her shore and a new horde would disembark, in search of her head.

Medusa picked at the statue of her latest victim. He wasn’t much older than she had been when cursed to this wretched existence. She longed to trade places—he was free to run in the Elysian Fields, eternally happy. She, on the other hand, was cursed with Immortality. True, on a few occasions, she had been close to death; yet each time, when she thought release would finally be hers, Hades sent her away—eyes averted from her petrifying gaze. She could die, she could be slain, but Athena’s curse kept her soul rooted to her serpentine body. The afterlife was forever out of her reach. There were no Elysian Fields for Monsters.

Gingerly, Medusa touched the fresh scar on her cheek. The last ship to visit had brought Spartans onto her shore, brave soldiers come to conquer the Mighty Snake-Haired Gorgon. Vicious and vile men, the lot of them. If not for her cursed stare, they might have gotten her. In the end however, victory had been hers. Another fleet turned to stone. Trinkets for her Gothic gallery of failed heroes.

The great screeching of her Sisters drew Medusa’s attention to the sea. They cried warnings of the oncoming ship, which advanced faster than expected. Why her Sisters cared whether she lived or died, Medusa did not know. Even they, her own blood, could not meet her deadly gaze. They kept their distance, protecting her from afar.

Medusa did not know of her Monstrous Sisters until after she had been cursed. Nor did she know that her parents were great sea creatures. In hind sight, it made sense. The priestesses of the temple had raised her. However, she had always been drawn to the sea. In her youth she would see things in the water she shouldn’t have: faces looking up at her from reflecting pools, strange creatures jumping and swirling in the distance. Perhaps thats why he took an interest in the first place.

Her former life seemed a pleasant dream. So many years had passed on this desolate island. Had her face ever been framed by golden locks instead of hissing snakes? Had she ever danced on white sand shores with adoring patrons? Had she ever been surrounded by anything but death? Her old life seemed so silly compared to this harsh reality; yet she would give anything to have it back.

Tonight was the full moon. Her one night of peace every cycle—the night the sea looked its most beautiful. As she made her way across the vast temple, Medusa found her reflection in a shard of mirror. She could just make out her face: still young, still cruelly beautiful despite the scars and snakes of her hair. It was an evil joke that her face had not changed—Athena’s constant reminder of what Medusa had once been, of her former humanity. Without this face it would be almost easy to forget that she was ever raised as a human, so easy to be lost beneath the snakes and claws.

The serpents crowning her head curled around her face, as if to comfort her. It was painful even for Medusa to look into her own eyes. They seemed every color at once. It made her eyes ache, and yet it was hard to look away. She suspected this was how the warriors felt: compelled to look into the eyes of death, to peek into Pandora’s box.

Medusa slithered solemnly toward the back gardens of the demolished temple. There thrived the only life left on the miserable island. It was her sanctuary: beautiful grounds fed by the waters of a spring fountain, the only place untouched by Athena’s wrath. The garden was a gift from her beloved, a place teeming with flora and light. Here, there were no eyes to see her, no flesh to turn stone. Flowers of every kind grew, their colors so vivid, so full of life. It was the one place Medusa felt a true connection to her former self.

At the edge of the fountain Medusa coiled herself and waited, watching the shifting colors of the sky as the sun sank beneath the sea. The moon shone brilliant, causing the ocean to sparkle. She sat entranced by its beauty while behind her the waters of the fountain began to stir. The spring rose and gently frothed and shifted as a flowing form emerged from the fountain. Strong, wet arms wrapped around her shoulders. With a sigh, she settled back into their embrace.

“How are you this evening, Dearest?” a strong voice echoed.

Her heart leaped; gently hissing, the snakes of her hair calmed, her eyes closed, and she smiled. “Better now.” The fluid figure rose up to sit next to her on the fountain's ledge.

She gazed up at the translucent liquid version of the man with whom she'd fallen in love so many years ago. His cool lips brushed hers, his waters calmly washing over them. He tenderly returned her gaze.

And winced.

Even in this form, her eyes had the power to bring him pain. Medusa’s heart sank, she could see the hurt reflected in the pools of his eyes. She turned back out to the sea.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked her.

“You know it is,” she laughed lightly.

“It's all for you,” his cool moist hands ran down her arms, sending shivers through her. “Sing for me.”

“No, my love,” she replied solemnly. “My voice has gone to rust with misuse. I have no time for such frivolity. Warriors come by the dozens to cut me down.”

“Your voice is sweet as ever,” he sighed, kissing her cheek. There he noticed the fresh scar. “They have marred your beautiful face.”

“You are a fool to call me beautiful,” she hissed sadly. “These Hunters, they grow in number and strength. Or perhaps I grow tired. I have been here too long.”

“I have pleaded with Zeus to free you. However...”

“I am a danger. He will not let me go. No living thing can survive my gaze… not even you.”

Medusa continued to watch the approaching ship. There was nothing he or anyone could do to stop them. Athena decreed that anyone looking for Medusa’s head would find calm waters and a favorable wind between them and the island. Her love had argued with Zeus, but Athena would not be reasoned with—not even by the King of the Gods.

“They are coming for you, my dearest,” he told her suddenly.

She wasn’t surprised. He always tried to warn her when danger was nigh. “I saw the ship on the horizon this morning,” she told him, staring at the daunting silhouette in the distance.

This one made her uneasy, there was something different about it. In all her years she had never seen a faster ship. “Let them come,” Medusa told him with false confidence, “I will be ready.”

“Not this time,” he replied, to her surprise. “He is a son of Zeus.”

Medusa looked to the flowers of her garden. She had lived here so long, wishing she could leave, wishing she could put an end to this gruesome imprisonment. Now her love said she would soon be conquered.

“You can try to fight him, but he will win,” he told her sadly.

“You wish me not to fight? You want him to take my head?”

“I want nothing of the sort. But there is nothing you can do.” She could feel his grief. “Athena has shown him how to defeat you.”

Medusa sat silent. Many times she had longed to die, longed for the afterlife, whatever it held for her. Now, hearing she would be dead upon the ship's arrival, she was not sure what she wanted.

“Then let me die,” Medusa sighed. “Perhaps I will finally find my peace in the Underworld.”

“Athena will not let you go so easily.”

“Easy?” Her snakes spat and recoiled. “You call centuries of entrapment on this island, of being tangled in this body, easy?”

“Steady, my love,” he soothed. “Athena has decreed that you will be defeated. But she has bound you in this body, and so you will remain. Zeus’s son wants your head as a trophy. There you will be captive. Forever looking out.”

“Dreadful!” Medusa hissed. “This is to be my fate?”

“I have a solution,” he replied. “I cannot keep him from slaying you. However, I can keep you from an eternity of service upon Athena’s shield.”

“How?” she asked, her snakes' tongues flickering. All their eyes turned towards him.

“Sleep, my love. Apollo will keep you in dreams until Athena has done with you. You will not wake, you will not feel the blade. Nor any other torment.”

Medusa rest against him once more, his rippling waters soothing her angst. She only ever felt at peace when she slept, when the sighing and susurrrations of the snakes were finally silent. A far more agreeable fate than the alternative.

“Then I am to remain like that forever?” she asked.

“I will come for you, as I have come every waxing moon with Apollo’s protection,” he smiled down at her, softly placing his cool, damp cheek against hers. “Until then, be steady. Sing for me. Sing, and think of what sweet dreams await you in Apollo’s care.”

Poseidon wrapped his aqueous arms around her. Enveloped in the lapping tranquility of his embrace, Medusa sang sweet songs of Water Nymphs and Sea Creatures. Her voice was rough, but her songs could still tempt the Gods down from Olympus. She and Poseidon lay together by the fountain till the sun rose. There she remained until the Son of Zeus came to claim her head. 

The Gingerbread Witch

The Gingerbread Witch

Written by: April Wahlin

Edited by: Talese Shertzer

~

Missy sat in the living room of her Gingerbread Home watching her son sink his fangs into a toy truck. She had never had this problem with her daughters. Then again, their father had been a Sorcerer and not a Scientist. Her new husband was a good man and brilliant, but she wished he'd mentioned his family’s genetic quirk before they’d had a baby together—it had missed her husband entirely, but hit her son full force. Puberty was not going to be fun.

She sighed and watched as her little boy swallowed the rest of his masticated tinker toy. No matter how much she fed him, he never seemed satisfied. The kid was no bigger than a Dwarf, but could somehow manage to eat an entire roast duck and still have room for dessert. At least living in a Gingerbread House provided her with extra food.

Missy sat back and cackled unexpectedly. Irritated, she put her hands to her temples and rubbed. She'd had this awkward version of Tourettes since she could remember, yet it never ceased to annoy her. Annoyance and frustration were feelings she was all too familiar with lately. She groaned as she thought back on the last year of her life: it hadn’t been good. Her husband had been gone researching some experiment, her daughter was away on the school Extension Trip, and her experiments to correct her Tourettes consistently resulted in her skin becoming a different color. Today her skin was a dark lime—but it was better than the canary yellow of the day before.

The throbbing in Missy's temples was just beginning to subside when the door chimes intruded on her calm.

“What now?” Missy groaned. Then cackled. Then got up to answer the door.

She really needed to check her Crystal Ball more often; she was not in the mood for visitors. Looking through the window, Missy was surprised to find Genevieve Goose standing on her candy apple red hard-candy porch. When she opened the door, the pleasantly rounded woman looked up through her little round bifocals and smiled tentatively through her round, rosy cheeks.

“Hello, Miss Wicked. I need to speak with you, if you have a moment,” Genevieve greeted politely.

“What a pleasant surprise. By all means come in.”

Missy let out a sigh as they settled into her couch. This wasn’t a wholly unexpected visit and from the look on Genevieve’s face, she was not the bearer of good news.

“I think you know why I’m here, Miss Wicked.”

“Missy,” she corrected, letting out a loud cackle.

Genevieve jumped slightly but continued. It wasn’t her first trip to Missy’s house.

“I’m here on government business. I think it will be easier if we keep this formal,” Genevieve replied.

“If you insist, Ms. Goose.”

“Thank you,” she nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s about those children you sent away a few months back. They’ve been making some rather...ahem...wild claims about you.”

“Yes, the rumor mill has trickled back to me.”

“Then you are aware of their accusations?”

“Yes. They're ridiculous! I would never eat a child.”

“I know that, Miss Wicked.”

“You know their background. The children were raised as con artists. Their parents had them begging on the streets before they abandoned them here. Terrible people!” In her disgust, Missy cackled abruptly.

“Well, the children will be fostered by their Uncle in the Industrial Domain.”

“Good, get those two cretins as far away from me as possible,” Missy sighed. “They nearly ate me out of house and home, then blamed me for how fat they got!”

“So, they did accuse you of fattening them up?”

“Yes, they got mad because I made them do chores, which you know I ask of all my tenants since they're staying and eating for free. They are the two laziest children I’ve ever seen. They even attacked me when I caught them stealing from my pantry! They nearly shoved me into my own oven trying to get away. Had I actually gone in, I would have been flambé, I could cook a horse in that thing. That was the last I saw of them and good riddance!”

“Yes well… they said you threatened to serve them up for dinner.”

“It was a joke!” Missy could no longer hide her anger. “One little joke about them being fatter than the turkey we were having for dinner and suddenly I’m a cannibal?”

Genevieve cleared her throat. “I believe you said,” she pulled out a small file and read, “ʻyou two are so round I should serve you up for supper. We would have meat for weeks.’”

Missy sighed then let out a high-pitched laugh. The cackles were always worse when she was stressed.

“In hind sight, that might not have been the best thing to say, but seriously. I have three children of my own. Why would I want to eat those two?”

“I’m sorry about all of this.” Genevieve sounded tired. “We thought setting you up out here to help lost travelers was such a wonderful idea. The number of people lost to the Black Woods has seen a substantial decrease in the few years you've been here. Building your house out of sweets to help people find it turned out to be a brilliant idea.”

“Well, it’s just easier for me to maintain,” Missy replied modestly. “I’m terrible with thatch and wood, but give me an oven and some sugar and I can produce miracles.”

“It was all working out so nicely.”

“Was? How bad is it Genevieve?”

Genevieve Goose shifted in her seat. “Well… I mean the Cinderella rumors just blew over.”

“Oh, not that,” Missy groaned. “None of that is true! You can go ask her, or any of my kids! I treated her like one of my own. You know what a clean person Cindy is—can't stand to leave a dish unwashed or a floor unswept. She was happy as a clam in my home. But when she told that dullard husband how she spent her time, he took it and ran with it! You know how the Charmings are about my family. They’ve hated us since grade school.”

“I know, but it’s the rumors,” Genevieve sighed. “Get enough people talking and they can make a Saint a Sinner. It’s all gossip, but you know how that spreads in town.”

“One of the many reasons I was happy to move out here in the first place.”

“Missy…” Missy took a deep breath, barely able to restrain a nervous cackle. This was it, the really bad news. “You’re going to have to close down the program.”

“No!” Missy was stunned. Cutting back her funding or salary she could handle, but being let go all together? “You’re firing me? How am I supposed to support my kids? My son is only two, his father’s always off on some wild goose chase… no joke intended. Amanda just left a few months ago on the Extension Program. You know how expensive that trip is! This is practically my entire income.”

“I’m sorry, Missy. I’ll do what I can, but we’ve been told to disband the project.” Genevieve placed a sympathetic hand on Missy’s shoulder. The two had been good friends in grade school. Mixing business with friendship was always difficult. “You also have to remove the 'Lost and Found' spell you created to guide people here,” Genevieve's voice was soft .

“That was a strong piece of magic. It won’t be undone easily,” Missy groaned.

“You have to, dear. It’s this new Government. You know it wouldn’t be like this if they had kept the monarchy. Then again, our little program might not even exist if King Richard hadn’t stepped down.” No matter how much kindness Genevieve put in her voice, there was no comfort for Missy. “And…” Genevieve sighed.

“Another and?”

“The Higher Ups have requested that you lay low until the brunt of the rumors stop circulating.”

“What?!” Missy’s cackle was almost a scream. “I'm under House Arrest?”

“Not as bad as all that, but essentially. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Amanda is away and there should be more than enough time between now and when your Son starts school for this to disappear.”

Her bifocals winked in the sunlight streaming through the sugar glass windows as she looked up at Missy. “You know I would help if I could, but I’m not going to be here much longer. This job is starting to get to me. I don’t think I'll be working for the Government anymore.”

“No! What are you going to do?” Genevieve seemed so content working for the Government. Missy wondered how many surprised one day could hold.

Genevieve thought for a moment and gave a little shrug.“Not sure. I have a teaching degree. I may apply for a position at Legends Primary.”

“Well, they would be lucky to have you.” Missy meant it; Genevieve was a good woman..

“Thank you, Missy,” Genevieve smiled sadly. “Please try not to worry about all this. There's a decent severance package and I’m trying to find another job you can fill in the meantime. You still have your home. You’re a very resourceful woman; I know you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

“Thanks,” Missy replied unenthusiastically. She unfolded her lanky frame from the couch to walk her rotund little friend to the door.

“I really am sorry,” Genevieve apologized again as she descended the hard candy steps. Turning back, she flashed Missy a smile,“By the way, that shade of green is lovely on you.”

“Thank you,” Missy’s chuckle was sincere. “Let’s get together for tea some time soon.”

“Only if you make those blueberry crumpets you do so well.”

“It’s a deal.”

Missy waved and watched as Genevieve disappeared from her yard. She cackled loudly to the empty yard and shut the door.

“Great.” Missy's forehead hit the door with a soft thunk. The sugar glass creaked in response. “I really need to start checking my Crystal Ball.” She turned to find Brody eating his way through the fruitcake fireplace. “I suppose I could start a candy store,” she laughed as she scooped her son off the floor. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He let out a resonating belch of agreement.

The End