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A blood-curdling shriek, coming from deep within the cavern, pierced the tar-like darkness of the night. You had advised your companion to not go too deep into the pit, as chilling rumours about the monster roaming this labyrinthine burrow had reached your ears. Yes, a being so dreadful that it could paralyse anyone with a simple glance dwelled this chasm, or at least that’s how the legend went. You shivered, a slight chill running down your back as a silent hiss echoed behind you. It had been awfully quiet ever since that cry, hadn’t it? You turned around slowly, your whole body trembling as what felt like tiny snake heads nibbled on your face. With a jolt, you tried to close your eyes, but it was too late. In front of you, the freak you were dreading was directly staring at you, eyes glowing red in the poorly-lit den. Cursing yourself, you finally understood what was happening to you. Your body gradually stiffened, becoming as hard as stone with every passing second; you had met the creature’s gaze, and were now doomed to join the ranks of her army of statues.In a trembling voice, you uttered the name so many people warned you about : Medusa.

What struck you first in Medusa was her beauty. Sure, you were told that it was this same prettiness that condemned her in the first place, but the myths depicted an ugly monster, with boar tusks, inhuman, half-sentient eyes and slithering hair. Her locks were serpentine alright, hissing and crawling like tiny snakes, but her face had kept its human form, eerily enough. You sensed annoyance in her red pupils and disdain in her creased brow, but, apart from your impending petrification, you somehow knew that you weren’t in danger. Maybe the rumours had been exaggerated, maybe Medusa wasn’t such a cruel beast as you first believed. You looked at her and saw remnants of the beauty that made Athena so jealous, underneath the greenish tan and webbed fingers. The Goddess of Wisdom, upon seeing the once gorgeous maiden’s unmatched charm, had sentenced her to the life of a beast. The Olympian deity had turned Medusa’s hair into bloodthirsty snakes and her eyes into weapons capable of petrifying anyone who meets her gaze, forcing her to seek refuge in this humid and dark grotto, away from prying glances.

However, your lower body was in fact painfully turning to stone, that the legends had gotten right. You had wandered into the depths of this cavern to get rid of its dangerous and petrifying dweller, but seeing her in flesh had startled you beyond measure. As Medusa started crawling towards you, you screamed to scare her off, your shriek filled with horror.

“Begone, foul beast! Don’t come any closer, or I swear I will, uh, I will…”

Your voice trailed off somewhat weakly; you hadn’t realised that you were so parched. Somewhat surprised, the creature glanced in your direction. Slowly, she emitted a faint hiss, her reptilian curls snarling at you.

“And who, in the name of Hades, do you think you are?”

Her tone was commanding, and her voice otherworldly, as if a million souls were trapped in her throat. You stayed silent. What could you even say to her? She was a monster, and you had initially come to slay her; you didn’t know what was the correct etiquette in this situation.

“I said get back,” you repeated, unable to hide your fear and disgust, “or I will poke your eyes out!”

“Oh,” she snickered, “I see I’ve caught myself another one of these brave heroes, haven’t I?”

“Yes, and I am not afraid of you, vile fiend! I have come to rid humanity of your calamity”, you cried out, in an effort to motivate yourself, “and I will cut you down!”

“And with what, exactly?” Her gaze was cold despite her amused traits. “You’re half-human, half-statue, and you won’t be able to move in a few moments. I’m surprised you’re still talking, if anything, although sometimes the process does take longer. So do us both a favour, shut up.”

A chill ran down your spine as she inched closer to you. You bit your lip, remembering the many warnings you had deliberately ignored, up until now.

“One last chance”, you gasped hoarsely, “or I swear, I’ll—“

“You will what?” Medusa snapped. “Beat me up? Slice my fingers off? Give me a haircut? You can’t even move, little one.”

“But I—“

“Silence! I’ve had enough of you. You think you’re a hero, but you’re barely holding it together. Look at you! Not a sword or a shield in sight. Maybe you thought that your wit would suffice, that you were some kind of anonymous Ulysses, a nobody. You’re all the same. You come at me with pocket mirrors and shiny helmets, but as soon as I show up, you lose it. I’m nearly starting to regret Perseus, you know. And he beheaded me and paraded my head all over Greece, just to get the Gods’ favour.”

At the mention of the Olympians, Medusa spat on the ground, cursing them into oblivion. Her face had gone sour as you stood there, unsure what to do or say.

“Ah, Perseus,” she continued, bitterness slipping through her pointy teeth. “What an unsavoury character, that one. Strutted in here with his fancy gifted-by-the-Gods gear one day and took my life, out of the blue.”

“Why?” your voice was shaky and ragged; the petrification process was starting to reach your stomach.

“Oh, he wanted to kill Polydectes, the guy that was courting his mum. I think her name was Danae? It was all so long ago. Besides, the Gods had ordered him to do so, and he wanted to prove himself to them! Of course, no one asked me what I thought about the whole ordeal, they just sent him off on his merry way to my lair.”

“Yeah, sure,” you stammered, “but you did petrify a whole bunch of people! I mean, you’re not so innocent yourself, or at least that’s what I heard.”

“And you believe everything people tell you, little one?”

Medusa was gazing at you, her eyes peering into the depths of your soul. You stayed silent, confused as to what to say. You couldn’t believe that that creature, that monster presented herself as a victim, of all things. But her eyes were delving into yours, looking right through you. You suddenly felt very naked, as if your whole being had been laid bare on the cold hard ground.

“Men always go on and on about how women are temptresses, devious ‘femmes fatales’ that only want to kill and petrify them.” Medusa’s words were seething with anger as you watched her scaly hair rise up. “They tell everyone that we are going to strip them of everything, from power to honour, and tighten their grip on us. They always make women a target, you see. And then, they use their own myths, their carefully crafted stories to kill us, and to come out on top as heroes.”

She was stomping around the cave, as if she was trying to calm herself down, her ire boiling her blood. Something was off, you knew it. You didn’t want to reconsider what everyone had taught you until now, but maybe there was some truth in her words. Could it be that Medusa wasn’t such a bloodthirsty killer after all? She was certainly a monster, and a ruthless one at that, turning hundreds of men into stone. But she had fallen prey to Perseus’ ambition, and to Athena’s jealousy. She was saying she murdered all those people to protect herself. You didn’t know what to think of this anymore. Was it a trick, or was she truly only protecting herself? A slight tingle was numbing your fingers as they hardened. There was definitely no getting out of this now.

“Men are always watching us”, Medusa resumed, “spying on us, gazing upon us, scrutinising our smallest move, to make sure that women remain to their taste, even if they don’t realise it. And we start looking at ourselves in the same way. There’s no escape, little one. Their gaze is always on our backs, even if we lock ourselves in the highest towers or the deepest pits. It’s ironic, really, coming from me. I am confined to this gods-forsaken hole and I can’t look at anyone without killing them on the spot, do you think I like it? Do you think I chose this, that I want to do this?”

You could feel years, decades, even centuries of bitterness permeating her words. She came to a stop, a mere inches away from your face, staring into your already-cursed eyes.

“Do you even know how lonely it is ?”

Medusa slumped unto a rock, shoulders down. The seclusion and isolation she’d been forced to endure in her lifetimes screamed through her thick skin. You wanted to say something, anything to alleviate her overwhelming loneliness, but by now, your throat was crushed by the petrification.

“Ever since the curse”, she went on, “the whole world has been out to get me, wanting to destroy me and use my head for their own needs. They send out hordes of soldiers to claim my head as a trophy and, when I dare fight back, they treat me like a monster. What else can I do, little one?”

Medusa got up, drawing near to you. Her red gaze was burning with rage and disgust but, for some reason, you understood her.

“No more,” she said in a strangely calm tone. “No more, I can’t take it anymore. Do you want to know why I was afflicted with this in the first place, little one? The real reason? It wasn’t because Athena envied me, no. It was because she wanted to protect me. I was one of the handmaidens serving at her temple. One night, Poseidon came down from Olympus to see me. At first he was charming, sure, but he quickly turned violent. On that damned day, little one, the noble and grand God of the Sea forced himself onto me, on Lady Athena’s altar, and there was nothing I could do about it. Who can fight a god, but a god? Her malediction actually came as a blessing to me at first, as she took me away from the pressing hands of the men who think that, since I was pretty and alluring, they deserved every inch of me.”

Medusa was now furiously shaking, her voice heavy with the plight of an eternity of torment.

“I was isolated from society, from men, and for a while I thought I had gotten away with it. Yet I could still feel their gaze on the back of my neck. It was an short-lived lull, before I was condemned to this accursed existence. I was turned into a monster, and I couldn’t avoid it. I still wasn’t left alone. They came for me in hordes. Do you see all these statues beside you? Who, in the name of Tartarus, does that? Even with this blasted power of petrification in my gaze, even with my warped appearance, I am still not safe. Just now, you thought it would be fun to come and try your luck with me, didn’t you, little one?”

She was shouting, her rage echoing against the stark walls of the lair. On her head, the tiny snakes hissed in all directions, mimicking the outburst of their mistress.

“I will keep fighting back,” she pledged, “for the sake of my sisters. Do you think I don’t hear their cries of suffering? Every time a woman dies at the hands of men, at the hand of Gods, I hear their wrath and their pain. They join their voices to mine and reincarnate as a snake on my forehead. And you can see, little one,” she said, pointing to her scalp, “that there isn’t a lot of space left. And as long as I am not bald, I will avenge my siblings from little ones like you who think they can grab whatever they want from us without any repercussions!”

In a last desperate attempt to speak, you drew what you knew would be your last breath. Your face tightened around your bones in excruciating pain as you stood there, powerless. The petrification process was nearing its end. Your last thoughts went to Medusa, and to the poor souls attached to her head. She was a queen of horrifying beauty, verging on the sublime. Your vision narrowing, the last image you would take into the Underworld would be that of this woman, tormented by a fate she wanted nothing of.