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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2159569
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2159569
Weird Tales Contest, words: 607
Some mysteries in life we will never know the truth about. Until now, that is.

Have you ever wondered why some statues are so life like? I mean, what sculptor is that good? Okay, well a few are. But there is a reason why some are so lifelike.

There are symbiotic relationships all over our planet. Bees spreading pollen for the plants in return for honey, trees creating oxygen and humans creating carbon-dioxide, little Finding Nemo fish and sea anemones, and most importantly, Gorgons and sculptors.

Without a sculptor in our back pocket, it is hard for a Gorgon to exist in today’s society. Turning men to stone without a backup plan, is just plain foolish. I won’t tell you all my secrets, but you get the idea.

My three aunts, born so long ago that no one can remember how many ‘great’s’ go before them, started this all. But, I, Theno Ballarian, revolutionized the practice of “passing.”

Well, I think I am getting ahead of myself. Two of my aunts are Stheno and Euryale. I am named after for the former. You probably have never heard of them and that is a good thing really. It means we have flown under the radar. My third aunt went on to make a name for herself. She is the incomparable Medusa.

Ever since the hoodie came out, I have been wearing one. With my snakes covered in a Rastafarian like head covering, just in case, sporting a serious pair of wrap around sunglasses, no one is the wiser. We concluded, that despite legend, it is the eyes that can turn you to stone, not just looking at our faces. That fact and sunglasses made life much easier.

We are not quite sure why some of us are mortal and the others live on forever with their immense burden. I am one of the immortals and I must say the twenty-first century is by far my favorite. No one questions the way I dress and instead of hiding in mountain retreats, we move about without notice. My elderly aunts stay in our mountain home for the most part, but the younger more energetic roam the Earth and try to stay out of trouble.

My curse has been tough on my lovers. Why must they want to see my eyes, touch my hair and be so damn intimate? Renaldo was in his studio working away on some chunk of rock, and I thought I was free to take a long bath. My little snakes were itching to be free of their constraints. I was drying off when the door was opened, and Renaldo stood there looking at me.

“Is that you, Medusa?” He chuckled uncomfortably.

“No. She was my great aunt!”

I was angry. Why must they always think I am her? She has been dead for over two thousand years. What? Haven’t you read anything?

I turned to face him and turned him to stone still holding on to the bathroom door.

He is in the studio. I broke his arm off trying to get his hand off the door. I have done that a time or two. They grip something and it’s just better if they aren’t standing there with a cell phone or a hotdog. Statues are better without modern day props.

I must wait until I can get another sculptor to change his face a bit before he can be put on display. I tell them that I had it commissioned but don’t like it. I let them do whatever they want to with it. It works for both of us.

Until they get too curious.

© Copyright 2018 🏳‍🌈 Me ~ Duf ♏ (meduf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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