Just a disclaimer- I did little to no research on this fanfiction, it was just for fun, so this is not an accurate portrayal of life on an Athenian temple, just how I imagined it. However I am being absolutely faithful to the Medusa story that I know.
The gongs sound in the morning. So do the songbirds, their voices smooth as water and sweet like honey. I sigh, remembering the dancing and merriness of the last night.
I rise quickly and slip a simple white chiton over my head. My hair is long, curly and reddish-brown. I twist it quickly to get it out of my face and tie it with a strip of fabric.
Around me friends are preparing for the day. Philomel is rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her fists, Thekla is busily repairing a broken lyre string, and my sisters Sthenno and Euryale are playing a little clapping game like children. I smile.
I quickly walk to the main part of the tiny temple. It may be small and we may have very little visitors that come to worship here, but still we take pride in the appearance of the temple. Down the almost hidden stairs to the kitchen- where the cooking women are busily preparing the first meal of the day- baking bread and making jam from figs. A more elaborate meal is being prepared too- cooked bread, wheat not barley like ours, a stick of olives, a small slice of cooked fish from the coast, and a honey cake. This is the food that will be burned as an offering for Athena.
I take a knife and go out the back, into the little secret garden, where we grow flowers, and cut the stalks of several. They are lovely narcissi, with petals that glow golden like the sun. I slice their stalks and then take them and lay them at the foot of the statue, on the altar. Brushing a little dust off the statue, I feel an electric pricking at my fingertips. Perhaps it is the influence of the goddess.
Smiling, I turn away and run back to the sleeping room. Sthenno catches my hand. "Come! Let us pray at the statue. Where were you?"
"I was dusting the statue and putting narcissi there." I say.
"What would the war and wisdom goddess want with narcissi?" Euryale, my other sister, laughs.
"I think she appreciates the beauty of the world just the same," I smile, and pull them both towards the main part.
Eventually, all twenty girls, plus the five cooks, are kneeling in front of the statue, our heads bowed, praying.
I suddenly think of a painting I once saw, of the sea. The waves crashed on the sand, frothing white, and the sand was as golden as the narcissi flowers I picked. I pray that I will one day see the sea.
A shiver runs through me, as well as slight pain. I would be able to bear it were it not for the vision I see when I blink- a terrible fanged monster with writhing snakes for hair, and the Moirai snipping a thread. I scream out loud and fall against the marble floor.
"NO!" I howl.
Euryale grabs hold of my arm and tugs me out of the temple area. "What ails you?" she demands with worried eyes.
Sthenno is following us. "Why did you scream like that, Medusa?" she asks reproachfully.
"I…" I shake my head. "I saw…"
"What?" Euryale urges. "What happened?"
"What on earth possessed you?" Sthenno challenges me forcefully.
I shake my head. I saw the Fates. I saw the monster. I saw… "It's nothing." I mutter. "I am fine now."
"Are you unwell?" Euryale inquired anxiously.
"Why did you do that, Medusa?" Sthenno blurts. "You…"
"Stop, Sthenno. Leave her be." Euryale tells her, putting an arm around my shoulder. "Why don't you go back to the prayer hour. I will stay with Medusa."
"But…" Sthenno is not convinced. She is very religious and I can see she thinks we should all go back.
"It is settled, Sthenno." Euryale says firmly. "I will see to Medusa. I believe she is ill."
Sthenno turns and walks back to the temple.
"I am fine now." I repeat.
Euryale still stays with me. After a time I can see her fingers fiddling. Euryale is not of the sort that likes to be idle. She reaches up and pulls my messy coil of hair undone, letting my curls fall about my shoulders, and I think of snakes.
I sit still as a stone as she twines my thatch of hair into a neater twist than it was and ties the cloth around it. Then she sits and leans her head on my shoulder, her pale green eyes closing. She is completely at ease.
But I sit distressed and fretful, my throat choking up with butterflies, thinking of snakes.