Found this myth here: paleothea . com - I don't take credit for the research. I just added some drama and text to flesh it out.


I am not a fighter by trade. Neither am I a runner. This may come as a surprise for some, considering the fact that I was born as a nymph, but we'll get to how I ended later. For now, it is enough that you know my name: Acantha.

I lived in a pine tree growing up, and for the first five hundred years, I lived peacefully, hiding from the gods when they would come and avoiding their affections with more success than several of my sisters. However, there were some who were faster than Pan or the satyrs. There were some who accepted Apollo's affections without complaint, and then there were still others who simply didn't manage to escape.

I chose simply to never be seen by the gods.

I foolishly did not realize that there was a god who could see without being present.

There was a man who came to see me every day. He was handsome, human, and an endearingly bad hunter. He relied on the fruits of the trees and bushes to survive, since he could never quite manage to avoid scaring off his quarry. Gradually, I came to love him, coming out of my tree more and more until we finally lay together, enjoying each other as best we knew how.

But one day he didn't come. I came out of my tree expectantly, thinking that perhaps he had simply gotten lost or had a successful hunt for once, when the god struck.

There was a beautiful body headed my way, unhurried and powerful in stride. His grace was that beyond a human's, and even my sharp hearing could not detect his approach. But I could see him, and he was beautiful. Blond curls fell in ringlets to his shoulders, not like my man's, whose hair was straight and often had twigs sticking out of it. He was perfect, like the sunlight through the trees, and headed straight for me.

I heard the tittering of my sisters through the wind in the leaves, announcing that he was, indeed, not human. He was a god, and I should bend to him and be done with it quickly if I wasn't interested. But there is one definite difference between the willows and the youthful saplings; and the tall, proud oaks and pines: our trunks do not bend.

So I fled from him, running with all of my might and will. But I was unused to the act, unused to the exertion of having to escape a pursuer, and he caught up to me easily, even going so far as to pass me up and meet me at the stream where I would come to rest.

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted, and I stilled, silent. I straightened my back with all of my pride, and thought of my beautiful human. Had this god killed him? Was he waiting for me? It didn't matter. He would not forgive me for betraying him for another; or, perhaps he would, though I would never forgive myself. Thus, I resolved that I would not lay with this god, even though he was more beautiful. He was not as attractive to me; nor was he as fleetingly precious.

"I think I might be in love with you." The god confessed, taking my silence for reply. I gave my steeliest gaze to him, and summoned my voice.

"I don't return your affections. Please leave me alone." His smile never faltered, as though he was sure I misspoke, and he approached me with open arms.

"Don't be that way. You'll hurt a man's feelings." And then he was on top of me, and I was screaming and kicking and scratching whatever I could reach. I managed to scratch his face, and in his vanity, he recoiled and covered the seeping wound with a hand. He glared at me from above, as I had no energy to move from the ground, and pointed at me.

"You will love the sun, but always bear thorns." He cursed, and I began to grow, becoming the nymph of my own Acanthus Tree, forever encased in the trunk so that I could neither find my lover again nor be had by another. And still, I do not bend.