I’m late for Monday Masterpiece, so that we’ll call this Thursday’s Huh? Hubby took one look at my Medusa thank you card that I sent to an art journal page swap partner and declared I was nuts. As if I haven’t been called nuts before. To me, though, the card makes sense. Medusa, with her misbehavin’ and willful hair, happens to be one of my favorite characters. In this case, Medusa is based on 2 gorgeous ladies I ran across many years ago. I wanted to list the brand of markers, pencils, and watercolors used on the primary work and the card (though pencil, ink, and marker were used on the thank you card), and the card made a good place to list them.
Back to Medusa.
Over time, I’ve read variations of the Medusa tale. I decided to make up a tale, too. There are just too many tales in which guys don’t know when to leave their peckers in their pockets.
Sprinting home from a party, Medusa heard a weak hoot from the shrubbery along her path. The cries sounded pathetic, so that the young woman put the brakes on her dash and peered into the lilac bushes (and no, I don’t know if lilac bushes grew in Greece during those days).
Medusa stared. “Oh, my goddess! It’s an owl with a busted wing. I’ll take her home and nurse her!”
A short time later, tired Medusa tiptoed across her bedroom’s threshold and scooted under the blankets. As soon as the exhausted woman dozed off, Euryale popped into the doorway.
In the dimly lit room, the older sister shook her finger. “I heard your sneaking home. You went to that party, didn’t you? I smell Apollo all over you. I told you that you’re too inexperienced to go without an escort to these parties. You aren’t to go on any chariot rides with him. He’s not to be trusted. And what have you there?”
“I discovered her in some bushes. I’ll nurse her back to health, and then she can come and go as she pleases.” Medusa cradled the bird who hooted at Euryale in a “Don’t scold my friend, you bossy ol’ thing!” fashion.
Euryale knotted fists on ample hips. “You don’t know any more about birds than you do gods. Go to sleep. Come tomorrow, you will be busy finding that bird something to eat. Taking care of that owl will be punishment enough.”
Slam went the door.
Just before dawn, lightening flashed through Medusa’s room. She blinked and squinted while the bird flew and perched on the shoulder of a woman who was dressed in armor and helmet.
Medusa shot to a sitting position. “Wait a minute! You can’t fly with a banged up wing.”
“The birds of goddesses heal pretty quickly.” The tall woman tilted her chin, looking down her nose at Medusa. “I know of your intent to help my companion. You will be paid for your kindness. What do you wish?”
Medusa thrust out her chest. “The gods and men are always trying to get me to touch their you know what(s), but it’s my sisters who really bother me. They think I’m stupid. They tell me I’m too inexperienced. Can you make them think I’m smart?”
The owl woman said gently, “When the dawn comes, look into the mirror. Men will see you and become terrified of your wisdom.”
Medusa chimed. “Don’t leave yet. Sometimes my sisters leave me alone while they go shopping at the market. Will you give me a companion? Maybe a snake because snakes are cute.”
When dawn arrived, Medusa rushed to the mirror. She was delighted with her new hairdo.
The next time she saw Apollo at a party, he grinned at her.
“Would you like to see my chariot? Your nosey ass sisters aren’t going to care if you take a little ride with me.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Medusa hmmed and hawed. “And why are you wearing those gloves?”
“Oh, they help me keep a tighter grip on the reins. Come walk down the road with me, and you can see them better in the moonlight. They are the latest in glove ware.” Apollo grinned harder.
He didn’t tell her the gloves were venom-proof.