[u]3. The Gorgon's Daughter[/u]
[Although this tale might not be true, it has enough truth in it for me. I pray that you might overlook what fact is wrong and what fact is right, and instead revel in a good myth re-interpreted, expanded, altered, and outright ignored, so that another might rise.]

	Medusa — a monster with snakes for hair and a stone-turning gaze — was killed by the Greek hero Perseus. She had two sisters, also monsters, also with snakes for hair, that survived her. The eldest, named Stheno, had red snakes for hair, and reacted poorly to her sister's death. She gained a fearsome reputation amongst Man, killing many. Euryale, the middle sister (Medusa was the youngest), was said to have bellowed loud enough for the whole world to hear when her youngest sister died. Needless to say, she did not take Medusa's death well, although, unlike Stheno, she did not slake the thirst of her grief with man. Instead, Euryale withdrew from the world, permitting only the visits of Stheno.

	Not that, of course, anyone else came visiting.

	Life wasn't always this way for the Gorgon sisters. They'd been human once, and each was born fairer than the last. Stheno was said to make men stare as she walked to market, and her hair was so vivid, it was said to be live fire. Euryale was likewise admired by many men. All the more so because, unlike Stheno, Euryale did not flaunt her beauty. Many men would sit beside their wives and ponder, not on affairs of state or war, but upon Euryale's raven hair. Medusa, however, shone like a 4000 watt bulb. Suitors nearly lined the streets for a sight of her, or simply to hear the sound of her laugh. It is no wonder then that the deities of the time found Medusa's beauty similarly attractive.

	Regrettably for the sisters, Zeus and Athena were not getting along at the moment (as many fathers and daughters are wont to). So when Zeus chose to seduce Medusa, it was when they were visiting the temple of Athena. Specifically, it was when the sisters were in Athena's temple. Such an action made Athena understandably more angry.

	However, it is not a good idea to actually lash out against the patriarch of the gods, and so Athena — being clever — saw an alternate path. She instead cursed the Medusa, transforming her face into a hideous, twisted versions of its self, and giving her a head of snakes, not hair. To her sisters, she exacted a likewise punishment — for they had not moved to stop Zeus (though, what mortal would?). Athena did not, however, curse Medusa with immortality like she did Euryale and Stheno. Athena felt sorry, in a way, for Medusa; the act had not been entirely consensual. Athena also, in one of her lighter-humored moments, cursed the sisters according to their perceived beauty: the sister with the most would [i]literally[/i] turn men to stone should their eyes ever meet, and the next most beautiful would turn men to stone only in moments of anger.

	So Athena's sense of justice toward her father was placated.

	Obviously, this meant severe changes for the sisters, now known as gorgon (dreadful, in the ancient tongue). They were forced to leave society, and after many years took refuge upon the coast. And they lived a solitary life, accepting of their fate. And they learned to fish, and they learned to hunt, and so they continued away from civilization for a few years. Then history twisted around, and took the sisters back into its gaze again.

	So it came to be that Perseus crept in amongst the three while they were asleep, walking backwards, and only looking through the reflection of a sheild to prevent petrification, and beheaded their sister Medusa to satisfy a far-off king to prevent his mother from being forced to marry someone. Euryale, who slept closest to Medusa, awoke to the sickening sound and let loose the bellow for which she is famous. The same bellow, of course, woke Stheno, who slept nearest to the entrance of their hovel. Perseus had already begun moving to the door, and Stheno, uncertain of what was going on and fighting off sleep, let him pass. Euryale was shortly behind Perseus, and as she moved past, Stheno clearly saw the bloody scene for the first time, and joined her sister in the chase.

	Perseus was faster than any mortal they'd ever seen. It was then that Euryale caught sight of his shield, surely given by Athena, and knew despair. If Athena no longer cared to maintain the sisters' punishment, then there was nothing stopping the other deities from assisting Perseus. And now that she looked upon the mortal's feet, following the font of blood dripping from her sister's severed neck, she saw shoes made from Hermes.

	Euryale knew that it was hopeless. You can't defeat the will of a deity without a deity on your own side. Yet, she kept running, her anger driving her forward. All Perseus had to do was look into her eyes, and then her sister would be avenged. Perseus did not look into her eyes, however. Instead, he ran into a copse of trees, and disappeared.

	They searched for days, but could not find him. Enraged, Stheno began killing mortal men at random. Euryale did nothing to stop her sister, partially to allow her to handle her grief in her own way, and partially because she herself would have liked to kill a few men. She did not, however, because she knew it wasn't the fault of men, but rather, the fault of deities. So be it.

	Many hundreds of years passed.

	It came to be that, in her vanity, Euryale wanted a child. She had hopes that perhaps the curse would skip a generation. These hopes started out as idle curiosity toward the scope of her curse, and then developed into something more as the years progressed. Euryale began to see a child as her hope at redemption; as a chance for her to live a normal life.

	The issue that had always prevented Euryale from acting on this plan was husbands. No man would consort with her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Some men would, but that class of man was hardly fit for the trials of fatherhood. Nor was she entirely certain that she could hold her anger in check during a parental dispute, and she had no doubt such a dispute would happen. Better to not try it.

	As the years passed, and her longing for child steadily increased, the answer came from an unexpected place. Mortal humans had by then developed artificial insemination. And so Euryale put on a broad-brimmed hat, as was the style at the time, and visited such a facility.

	So it came to be that Euryale gave birth in a small shack on the gulf of Mexico. The rhythm of the sea set the mood, and when Euryale saw her daughter for the first time, she was ecstatic. Her daughter wasn't ugly, and her head was blessedly free of serpents. Euryale named her Korinna Medusa, after her curse-free innocence and her long dead aunt. But when baby Korinna howled at the world for the first time, Euryale cried. Her daughter's tongue was black and forked; like a snake's, it was long and thin. Years passed, and Korinna grew a bed of midnight-black snakes upon her head. Her skin never tanned nor blushed, and instead remained the color of fresh white sugar, in bright contrast to her black tongue and serpents.

	Euryale could not help but notice these changes and despair, for they meant the curse was eternal. Yet Korinna still gave her hope — throughout the years Korinna's face remained beautiful and unmarred. Perhaps with sufficient generations, the curse would be lifted entirely. Yet, her daughter's appearance wasn't Euryale's only worry. 

	Korinna drifted apart as she grew older. She was far too curious about the forbidden world of mortals. At first, Euryale fostered curiosity, believing it to be a sign of early intelligence. Euryale even bought her daughter black lipstick, to match her hair, and beautiful dresses to wear. But it wasn't enough. Korinna wanted to see the world; she didn't understand that she wasn't normal, that they were monsters in the eyes of Man. She yearned to show her dresses to someone apart from her mother.

	It should be no surprise, then, that Korinna sneaked away one night. Her mother felt a sad vindication when Korinna returned two days later, eyes red with old salt, dress ripped in a hundred places, but no mark left unhealed on her flawless skin. Euryale felt it was time to explain their curse.

	So Euryale told Korinna about her old, old aunt, and the unimaginable squabbles of the gods, and her aunt's death at the hands of a Greek man who had died thousands of years ago. She explained her own patience toward the curse, and told Korinna about her other aunt, who might visit from time to time out of obligation to her family. Korinna asked about the gods. Where were they now, and maybe if she could just talk to one of them— but Euryale explained that the gods lived far away, and that she didn't know how to speak to them. However, her sister (Korinna's aunt) had spoken to them, once, long ago. And then, satisfied that the matter was settled after Korinna was quiet, Euryale resumed trying to give her daughter a better life, and forgot the matter.

	But Korinna didn't forget. She was waiting for Aunt Stheno to visit, because she had a plan to make the gods listen. Surely after all this time they'd release the curse. If not on her mother and her aunt, then certainly on her — after all, how had she offended Athena? Since her mother had obviously given up, it was up to her to find out how to speak to the gods and then do it. Or at least try. As Korinna grew older, she always held onto that thought, even if only in the back of her mind.

	And then, one day, Stheno visited.