A Motley Crew - Medusa

Paul slowly entered the large underground chamber, he looked around and saw many statues of people in horrific poses, fear evident on their faces.  He knew that he was in the right place, he was in Medusa’s lair.  He walked slowly forward, sword clutched tightly in his sweaty hand, shaking slightly. As he passed the statues, he looked them over.  Many were wearing armor and held weapons of all types.  Fear welled up in his stomach, threatening to spew his breakfast all over the floor.

He crept along as silently as he could, hiding behind each petrified statue as he snuck deeper into the lair.  Using the mirror in his hand, he looked around the statue he was hiding behind before sneaking up to the next. He held his breath as he hurried to the next statue before letting it out and sucked in air in a ragged breath.

“Leave now,” a feminine voice boomed out from somewhere in front of him.

He froze in his tracks and closed his eyes out of fear and hoped that she would mistake him for a statue, and he could surprise her and kill her.

“I have killed much more skilled adventures that yourself,” the Medusa’s wicked sounding voice said from even closer.

He gripped his sword tighter in his hand.  He cocked his head slightly, trying to listen for any sound of her approach, but he heard nothing.
Suddenly he felt a strong hand gripping his sword arm at the wrist and with a quick flick of her hand, the sword clanged to the ground at his feet.  Fear overwhelmed him and he felt his bladder let loose and the smell of urine quickly filled the space around him. The hand released his wrist, and he heard his sword being picked up.  His arms fell to his side as he waited for the evil Medusa to either turn him to stone or stab him with his own sword.

“Seriously?” the Medusa said from behind him, “You pissed yourself?  What kind of adventurer are you?”

“Just kill me and be done with it,” he said, mortified at wetting himself.

“Why are you so eager to die?” she asked, slightly amused.

Tears started welling in his eyes and soon started streaming down his face, “I don’t want to die,” he said in a choked-up voice.

“Then why on earth are you here?” she asked, still standing behind him.

“I needed your head to save my sister,” he said softly.

This piqued her interest a little, “Why does your sister need my head?”

“Our village was attacked by bandits a week ago and she was taken by them,” he told her, resentment and failure evident in his voice.

“So, you thought it would be easier to kill me and cut my head off than to rescue her yourself from the bandits?” she asked incredulously.

He simply nodded.

She sighed slightly, “That was very brave of you, and very stupid,” she said as she turned around and started walking away from him.

He heard her voice receding and he looked in the mirror in his hand and saw her walking with her back to him, a cloak was pulled up over her head, but he could see something writhing under the material of the hood, “You’re not going to kill me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not,” she said, her voice no longer sounding menacing, “Please, follow me.”

He slowly turned around and closed his eyes and starting following her, his hands stretched out before him as he slowly inched forward.

“You can look at me,” she said, “As long as you don’t make eye contact with me, you’re fine.”

Paul slowly opened his eyes and looked at her back as she continued walking.  When he didn’t turn to stone, he followed behind her, catching up to her quickly.

“I don’t get it,” he asked, clearly puzzled, “Why don’t you just kill me like you did all those other people here?”

She let out a small laugh, “You mean these statues?” she asked, her hands spread out indicating the statues around her.

“Yes,” he said, “You turned all these people to stone, why spare me?”

“Truth be told, there are only a couple of petrified adventures here,” she pointed to a man wearing heavy armor and wielding a long sword and carrying a shield.

Paul was thoroughly confused as he looked at the rest of the statues, “Then who are the rest of these people?”

“They are simply statues,” she said, “I have a deal with a local stone mason to make statues for me.”

Paul shook his head slowly, trying to make sense of what she was telling him.

“I really don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said, “And I figure that a room full of fake petrified people would deter most people from entering,” her head turned slightly in his direction, he could see a couple of snake heads poke out from under her hood, “Well, smart people anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul said, “I was desperate.”


“I know,” she said as they reached the far side of the chamber, and she opened a simple wooden door and walked through.

He walked through the door and entered a small living space.  There was a table with some fresh fruit and cooked meat on a plate, a simple bed on the far side of the chamber and a small stove with some pots and pans.  She walked over to a door on the right side of the room, entered it and then returned a few minutes later, the hood of the cloak draped far over her face, obscuring it from his sight. 

As she walked up to him, fear again welled up in him as the hissing from the snakes on her head became louder.  She reached out and handed him a bundle of clothes, “I think these will fit you,” she said as he took the clothes from her.

“Thank you,” he said taking the clothes from her.
She pointed to a door she had gone through, “Why don’t you go in there and get cleaned up and change out of those wet clothes,” she said, amusement obvious in her voice.

He looked over at the door confused, but slowly walked over to the door.  Looking in, he saw inside was a small pool of water about ten feet around.  He touched it and found it to be warm if not hot to the touch.

“Are you hungry?” she asked from the main room as he slowly started to undress.

“Yes,” he replied as he climbed into the pool and felt the hot water slowly envelope his body.

After around ten minutes, he emerged from the washroom in the new clothes, freshly cleaned.  He could smell freshly cooked meat and saw that she had put a plate on the table for him with meat as well as a couple apples, cut into slices.

“Thank you,” he said as he sat down in the only chair at the table and started eating voraciously. 

“You’re welcome,” she said sitting in a comfortable looking chair next to a book shelf filled with books, “What is your name?”

Taking a moment to gulp down his food he responded, “I’m Paul,” he said before taking another bite of an apple.

“Its nice to meet you Paul,” she said, “I’m Medusa, but of course, you already knew that.”

Paul simply nodded as he continued to eat, and Medusa grabbed a book off the table next to her and opened it and started reading.

When Paul was finished, he looked in her direction, no longer scared of her, “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

He could see the lower part of her face from under the hood and her saw her mouth curl up into a genuine smile, “Of course,” she said.

“Why didn’t you turn me to stone?” he asked, “You knew that I was here to kill you.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Paul,” she said as she closed the book and set it aside, “But will defend myself if given no other choice.”

Paul nodded, “That’s why you told me to leave,” he said more to himself.

“Yes,” she responded to him, “I was hoping that you’d run for your life rather than continuing.”

“And when I didn’t,” he said, “Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

She let out a laugh that surprised Paul, it was a sweet laugh that reminded him of his sister’s laugh, “Because when I saw you up close, I realized that you weren’t a threat to me, you were more likely to hurt yourself with that sword than me.”

Paul laughed along with her, “Yeah, I’d never really held a sword before coming to find you.”

“That was very evident from the way you were shaking,” she said before her tone turned more serious, “Now, tell me about your sister and these bandits and why you thought you needed my head.”

“My sister Beth is only fourteen years old.  She was taken when our village was attacked by bandits last week,” he said, worry and concern washing across his face, “They took her to their camp and are doing who knows what horrible things to her.”

Medusa’s face steeled up and rage welled up in her at his story, “Was no one willing to try to save her?” she asked.

Paul felt the change in her demeanor, “No, everyone was afraid of them,” he said, “They have a very large camp with a lot of bandits.”

Medusa nodded, “And you thought that if you took my head, you could walk into the camp and turn them all to stone and get your sister back?”

Paul nodded, “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Medusa smiled at Paul again, “It’s okay, Paul,” she said, “It was very brave of you to come here to save your sister.  Very stupid too, but I can tell that you love your sister very much to risk your life coming here.”

Paul simply nodded as Medusa stood up and walked over to a shelf on the wall where she picked up a strange looking pair of glasses and slipped them under her hood, “I’m going to take my hood off, but you’ll be ok,” she said as she slowly pulled the hood up over her head, letting Paul see her face for the first time.

The glasses she was wearing obscured her eyes from Paul’s view so he could look at her without risking turning to stone.  He was taken aback by how beautiful her face was and if not for the mass of writhing green snakes she had on her head in place of her hair, she looked nothing like the legends.

“Much better,” she said as she put the cloak on a hook and sat back down in the chair, “It gets very stuffy under that hood”.

“Can I ask, um,” he stumbled as he started asking the question.

“How did I end up like this?” she asked for him and he simply nodded, “I didn’t always have snakes for hair and the ability to turn people to stone,” she said, “But my story is similar, in a way, to your sister’s.”

Paul’s mouth opened a little before closing again, not sure what to say to her.

“Long ago I was an acolyte of Minerva and served in one of her temples studying to one day become a priestess,” she told Paul who sat listening to her, “When one day, a group of brigands broke into the temple late at night, they were drunk and looking to have fun.”

She shuddered a little as she told Paul what happened, “They slew the priestess who was trying to protect me and then they spent the rest of the night raping me again and again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Paul said horrified at her story.

She nodded at him, “Thank you,” she said softly, “Somehow, I survived the night and, in the morning, I crawled to Minerva’s alter and prayed, begged her for the strength to protect myself from men who would hurt me and she answered my prayers by turning me into this,” her hands waved over her face and head.

“What did you do?” Paul asked.

“I found those men who hurt me and out of anger and vengeance I turned them to stone,” she said with fire in her voice, “I did it in front of the town that let this happen before running off and finding this cave to live in.”

“And that’s how the legend of the Medusa began,” he said to her.

“Yup,” she responded, “And I’ve gone out of my way to fuel those legends so people will just leave me alone.”

Paul sat silent for a moment, his mind racing, “I understand, but doesn’t it get lonely being here all by yourself?”

Medusa nodded slightly, “But what is the alternative?” she asked.

Paul shrugged, “I don’t know,” he said.

They fell into silence for several minutes, “Paul,” Medusa said.

Paul looked up at her, “Yes?” he asked.

“I’ve come to a decision,” she said with a smile on her face, “I’m going to give you my head so you can save your sister.”

Paul looked at her confused, “No, I can’t take your head,” he said to her, “I’ll…  I’ll have to find another way.”

She let out a little giggle, “I was more thinking that I’d come with my head and together we’d deal with those bastards to took your sister and get her back.”

Paul’s mouth dropped open, “You’d do that?” he asked, “Even after I came here to kill you?”

She nodded, “You are a good man and you only came here because you love your sister and you were desperate to save her,” she told him, “And what kind of person would I be if I allowed your sister to be hurt by those men if I could do anything to save her.”

Tears welled up in Paul’s eyes, “Thank you!” he said as he started crying again.

She smiled as she stood up and grabbed a backpack and started stuffing it full of food, utensils and other supplies they would need on the road.  

She looked up at him as she grabbed her cloak, put it on and handed him the backpack, “Shall we?” she asked as she walked to the door.