Twisted: Flash Fiction

Monster

I wasn't always a monster.

In fact, I was quite ravishing once. Skin so fair and lovely you would have thought I was a figment of your imagination if not for the faintest of rosy glows upon my cheeks. My silken hair tumbled around my shoulders and down my back in wave after wave of soft, golden tendrils. I was quick to smile, quicker to laugh, and my good nature followed me everywhere. I was beautiful, indeed. Thinking back, it could have been any one of these things, but my guess? It was the deep and sparkling ocean blue of my eyes that sealed my fate.

Poseidon was but one of many suitors. Of course I was flattered. Who wouldn't be? The God of the Sea was vying for my attention. I must admit, I did find him pleasing. He was a god after all. Even so, I refused his advances. I was mortal, you see, and a devoted priestess to Athena. Sworn to devout worship and celibacy, a vow never to be broken. But as I would soon learn, my will was no match for a god used to getting his way.

I was in the temple of Athena preparing the altar for the day's worship when Poseidon found me. Little did I know when he dropped the glittering pearl plucked from the depths of the blue-green Aegean Sea into the palm of my hand, this was to be his final offer.

He smiled as he closed my fingers around the small but precious token of his affection. He stroked my hair and murmured to me the promise of every wish granted. But when I refused him again, his eyes grew dark and he cast my hand aside with such force the pearl flew from my clutch and rolled away, never to be gazed upon or lovingly admired again.

Gone were the gentle strokes imparted only moments before. Vanished the promise of endless wishes granted. Quick as lightning, he snatched a handful of my hair and wrenched my head back so I could see with clarity the contempt he now held for me. He threw me to the ground so violently I was sure every bone in my body had shattered. I thought about taking it back, about begging him to stop this madness, but I knew it was too late. He was going to take what he wanted no matter what.

***

"Sister, wake up. What has happened?" Stheno asked as she shook me awake. She and my other sister, Euryale, had come to the temple looking for me. They had not expected to see me lying in a bedraggled heap on the floor.

"Poseidon," I uttered. They had only to look at my swollen and bruised body, the torn fabric of my dress, to know what Poseidon had done. Fresh tears sprung to life at the sight of their worry and dismay.

"No," Euryale gasped. "Oh, no, no, no. I am sorry my beloved sister," she cried, gently pushing a tangle of hair out of my face.

"We must leave here. Quickly, before Athena comes," whispered Stheno urgently, pulling me to my feet.

But as you know, it was too late. When the ground beneath us began to tremble, I knew life as I had known it was over. Athena eclipsed the sun as she stepped into the temple. When her eyes found mine she began to scream, blaring and guttural, until I thought my eardrums might burst.

"How dare you?" Athena boomed. "How dare you lay with a god? Who do you think you are?" she spat.

"I gave you beauty beyond measure and this is how you repay me? By sullying my temple? You have betrayed me!" she howled, barreling toward me. "You will pay for your trespass for all eternity."

There was no use explaining. The bruises on my no longer perfect skin did not matter to Athena. My tattered clothing was of no significance. Believing she had been slighted, the Goddess of War was utterly blind to such a thing as consent. And so, it was at that moment my sisters and I became Gorgons. My hair still luxurious though matted and damp with sweat and tears, turned to wriggling, hissing serpents. Once bright eyes now orbs of fury colored the blackest shade of night. Forever cursed with a face as hideous to behold as the wrath of a goddess betrayed.

The rest, as they say, is history. Doomed to lurk in the shadows, a silent nightmare waiting to claim its next victim. Long tossed aside and forgotten by impetuous gods like a plaything outgrown, I no longer cry from the unfairness of it all. No, I relish my ugliness. Why shouldn't I? Men only seek to seduce or kill me. So I repay them in kind with treachery, taking sheer delight in seizing their hearts until every last one pays for what was stolen from me with their life. So, when you ask, "Do you feel even an ounce of pity for the countless souls you have turned to stone?"

The answer is no.