Aug 17, 2009 20:44
He dares to call himself a man.
Oh, that Perseus would return and fight me, face to face, hand to hand, on equal footing - no gods or curses standing in our way! Whose terrible visage would be on shields and swords then? Surely not his. For he could not inspire terror as I could; he would simply be a simpering reminder of the hell that could befall a man should they ever dare take on a Gorgon.
It makes me fearful that I should remember so well - the flashing instant of waking before death, of opening my eyes only to see the slash of the sword and then the dizzying ascent as I was held above my body in that coward's hand.
Worse than all is ... the absence of them. The naught. The neglect of those I loved so well. The distrust and hate leaves only a burning gaping hole than never, can never, be cooled or healed.
The gods have abandoned me. Forgotten me. Tortured me, and all for what? For nothing. I did nothing but worship and respect them and this was how I was repaid. I felt her great Goddess presence there and she but laughed. I swear I can hear her laughing still.