Medusa Bled

Medusa was a beauty. A real looker. She caught the eye of a god. Granted, he had a wandering eye.

In those days a girl didn't have much of a choice and, well, let's face it when the big guy says jump (or in this case lay down) you jump. So the poor girl didn't have much of a choice. Stuck between a rock and the proverbial hard place. Okay, the literal hard place.

The wife didn't like it much. It was a bit of a routine with them. He bagged them and she, not able to do much about the boss, took it out on the innocent girls caught in the middle of their marital issues. You can understand where the old gal was coming from. She was, after all, quite a bit older than him. More his mother's age. She'd survived the overthrow of the old regime and was the most powerful of the female gods. You don't get to be that mighty without knowing how to defend your turf. She knew where to play politics and whom to crush. Medusa, she crushed.

Though her face remained beautiful, none would be able to appreciate it. Her long flowing hair was transformed into deadly snakes. It was not their venom but, their glare that stopped the blood cold in your veins. With time her blood began to run cold, too. With time all that was left of her was her legacy. People forgot who she was or how she came to be regarded as a monster. She was vilified not by her actions but, by a woman desperate to retain control and order.

History tells again and again of people, regardless of their groups (women, Jews, Blacks, whatever) that they should band together. Instead they do their worst to their own. This was no different. Medusa bled and cried. None of us cared. We didn't care why or what for. So Hera won.... or did we lose?