Book I

  The seafoam kissed her face.

  Winds of Zephyrus’ grace

  billow the young woman’s tunic

  as she stands on the edge

  of the Acropolis,

  overlooking the Aegean.

  Young maiden Medusa

  had been gifted highest

  honors of old Athens.

  She had been proclaimed as

  priestess of Athena.

  For many, the office

  would be foul auspice;

  for such lofty stations

  beset degradations

  of spirit by hubris.

  Fair Medusa was not

  among the lot of “many”.

  Ever just and temp’rate,

  she kept proper conduct

  in divine accordance.

  Through the eyes of Bubo,

  her most cherished pet owl,

  Great Athena was pleased.

  Medusa kept the rites,

  conducted rituals,

  and offered wise counsel.

  It was not long before

  citizens of Athens

  raised a statue to her.

  Earnest, reserved, grateful;

  met such adoration

  humbly with grace.

  Yet the eyes upon her

  gazed with such intentions

  that invite attention

  of one Aphrodite.

  “Who is this girl?” she asked,

  “she provoked the passions

  of all Athenians.”

  Then the high lady love

  cast her brewing ire

  upon magnificent,

  peerless lady wisdom.

  “Such beautiful creatures

  are wasted in service

  to your chaste scholarship!”

  Aphrodite shouted.

  Great Athena smirked,

  for Venus’ envy

  could not hide in her eyes.

  “Hush thy haut,” she replied,

  “Lady Love, your antics

  would make a monster of her.”

  Affronted, Aphrodite

  stormed away, dictated

  by her fickle impulse.

  Yet Athena lingered.

  Her own words gave her pause.

  Later that very night,

  Athena took the form

  of a shambling old crone.

  Old Athens’ citizens

  were none the wiser to

  the goddess’ presence.

  The women most envied

  Medusa’s braided locks

  and the men enraptured

  by her slender figure.

  “I know this spell too well,”

  Athena whispered.

  She found her way to

  city’s acropolis,

  where her grandest temple

  stood in all its splendor.

  On its front step lingered

  the young women whom all

  of Athens was transfixed by.

  Athena’s blue-grey eyes

  met the golden yellow

  orbs of Medusa which

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  pierced through shade like a torch.

  “Greetings sweet grandmother!”

  Medusa said as she

  gingerly approached what

  she presumed to be a

  wayward city elder,

  “If you are lost, then come;

  take shelter from Nyx here,

  palace of Athena,

  till Helios’ first light

  make true your journey home.”

  That is when the old crone

  removed her hood, revealed

  herself in full splendor:

  goddess’ divine light

  was banishing the night.

  “Your goddess is most pleased

  with your hospitality,”

  Athena said to her.

  “Athena!” Medusa

  excitedly proclaimed.

  The priestess leapt from step

  and rushed to her god’s side.

  “Come and see the wonders

  done in my name,” she urged.

  As eager as a child,

  Medusa took the hand

  of Athena and led her to

  the statue of herself,

  which stood before Athena’s.

  The monument was meager

  by fair comparison.

  It was not an affront,

  and even if it was,

  the goddess of wisdom

  recognized that was not

  Medusa’s own doing.

  She reservedly smiled

  at her priestess’ joy.

  She was a happy child,

  impassioned by reward

  for her worthy conduct.

  But she was not goddess

  of knowledge for nothing.

  Athena knew too well

  these first steps along the

  well-trod path of ruin.

  “Be happy Medusa,”

  she said, “happy in deeds

  and not in your acclaim.

  Though you may meet it with

  an honest heart and grace,

  baleful gaze of masses

  can easily infect

  even the most earnest

  souls with foul vanity.

  You make me proud, child.

  Always allow your eyes

  to look upon others

  in good faith and reason

  See them as the living

  beings blessed with the gift

  of miraculous life

  and the wonder of thought,

  that is the work called ‘people’.”

  Though reverent attention

  she had paid, Medusa

  found herself overwhelmed.

  The girl wasn’t certain

  what to do with those words.

  “If the statue offends-,”

  she began to say but

  was hastily cut short.

  “No! My sweet girl, be proud,”

  Athena insisted,

  “Remember who you are:

  a caring, competent

  woman with true power.

  You are more, also less

  than an idol of man.”

  That is when the goddess

  made manifest a shield

  polished to such a state

  that one could see their face

  in the shine’s reflection.

  “Look upon this image

  to witness your true self,”

  Athena instructed

  as she handed the shield

  to perplexed Medusa,

  “You don’t lose sight of her.