When he set his wingéd foot on my island, I knew there was something different. He carried a shield, and
from a distance, I could see it was adorned with Athena’s olive tree. Why wouldn’t she leave me alone? What
had I done to deserve the terror she had wreaked on me? Would she ever be sated?
I stood to approach him, anticipating adding him to my statue garden. But he drew nearer, impervious. I
shook my head, set the vipers writhing and hissing, but still he drew nearer, sword raised. “Prepare to die,
Medusa” he charged, sword held high, his face shielded. I snarled and leapt at him. The vipers spat a stream of
venom, but the shield repelled us. His blade whistled as it arced through the air, and my head flew from my
shoulders.
And in that moment, the Fates allowed me a glimpse of the future: my children forming from my blood -
light and shadow. Pegasus, my beautiful winged boy, fitting as Hermes had given Perseus his wings. Then my
golden giant son, and the line of monsters he’d beget: Hydra; Cerberus and Sphinx, terrible powers unleashed
upon the world, my revenge!
My head would be Artemis’ shield, but my blood, oh, my blood would offer either healing or death. How
would you know which one? I hear you ask, as you prepare to un-stopper that vial of red elixir? That depends
on whether you see in me beauty or a monster.
16
Cauldron Anthology