Prompt Day #205: Dramatize the retirement party for a god or monster
The Eyes of the Monster
“I can’t believe she’s just retiring. I mean, if I had that sort of power, I’d go one forever.” Artemis said, watching Medusa in her dark glasses, standing silently in the corner holding a glass of wine.
“Hello?” Aphrodite said “If I couldn’t look deep into someone’s eyes on a regular basis, I’d retire too. What’s the point of it all if you can’t have love?” she sighed, her eyes locked on Hermes’ muscular calves. Hera, who had come up to the conversation as Aphrodite was waxing on about love, rolled her eyes.
“Might I remind you both that Medusa is mortal. She’s aged. Can’t you see that?” Hera shook her head. “Sad, really. One of her snakes died last week. Choked on a bird.”
“A bird?” Artemis scoffed “She never goes out without a turban of some sort. How did the snake catch a bird in the first place?”
“She missed it putting the wrap on. And then, she walked right into a low grown tree.”
“Shh, she’s coming over!” Aphrodite whispered.
“Ladies,” Medusa approached slowly, her dark glasses slightly askew on her nose. Hera noted the way the woman took no steps without first grasping the nearest piece of furniture. “Thank you ever so much for attending my little soiree. I suspect I shan’t see you much after tonight.”
“Medusa! Are you ill?” Aphrodite asked, kissing the woman’s cheeks first one then the other. “You look dreadful, I mean even more so than usual.”
“I’m old, Aphrodite.” The dead snake hung rotting from the wrap that writhed, albeit sluggishly as if even the very thing that made the mortal a monster was aging along with her.
“Medusa! I demand to know the meaning of all those piles of shit in your garden. What happened to the tortured stone souls? I did so enjoy visiting it when feeling down.” Hades said shoving Aphrodite out of the way to get up in Medusa’s face. Medusa turned on the direction of his voice.
“Hades, I could smell your sulfurous stink coming a mile away.” Medusa spat.
“Well? What are those piles of muck out there? Where are the bodies? Don’t make me kill you right here, you snake headed, beastly witch.” He said.
The others were looking out the windows into the garden, where historically stood many souls once mortal like Medusa herself, who having looked into her eyes were turned to stone in their moment of horror and disgust. The visages on the statues wore the look of having stared pure evil in the face. It was pure pornography for Hades who frequented the garden more often than the creator of it herself. There standing among the older, crumbling figures of Medusa’s glory days, sat lumps of shapeless concrete, some still drying in the sun.
Behind them all, Medusa, the once beautiful maiden, now a gorgon, a hideous, ugly beast, pulled the scarf from her head, releasing the snakes who crawled about her head lacklusterly. These serpents once stood about her head, hissing and striking but now, as if chilled by her dying body, they merely slithered about one another. She took off her dark glasses as well. Her once crystal green eyes, both beautiful and dangerous to behold, were now hidden beneath a milky film.
“Cataracts.” She announced. “I can barely see through them, myself. Humans who gaze into them cannot see the full horror that I have been cursed to become. They cannot see the beauty of which I was once so proud. Instead of turning to stone,” she gestured to the garden just outside the window “they turn to a half formed concrete that without its shell, falls into a heap.”
Hades roared with laughter at her failure. Aphrodite wept for the loss of Medusa’s only beautiful trait. When Athena and Perseus arrived, swords and mirrored shields held high, Medusa calmly approached them, bowed her head and waited for the strike to make her retirement official.