#StitchedSaturday 6.29.19

Image result for beautiful medusa

Here is your #writingprompt for Saturday, June 29, 2019!

Exercise: Spin your own tale on Medusa using 500 word max
Genre: Sci-Fi/Horror/Fantasy

16 thoughts on “#StitchedSaturday 6.29.19

  1. Excerpt from the short story “My Best Friend is a Gorgon”
    By Veronica Smith

    The woman on the ground stopped crying and looked up. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing. The hair on the woman in black was moving, as if it was coming alive while she smiled.
    Without looking down at her, the woman in black ordered, “Run now. And don’t look back.”
    The woman got her legs under her, picked up her purse, and stood up shakily. Using her right hand, she lightly touched the wall for balance. With each step that took her further away, she needed it less and less. Despite what the strange woman told her she glanced back once more. The woman’s hair was a wildly waving mane, almost like tentacles. The woman in black was staring at the man, angling her face closer to him, and light appeared to shine from her eyes.
    The woman hesitated no longer. She turned and fled.
    “They never listen at first, but some instinct makes them do what I tell them eventually,” the woman in black told him. “Something makes them run before it’s too late.”
    The man was getting scared. No matter what he did, her hold on him never weakened. She was holding him up by his forearms, keeping them close to his body so he couldn’t strike out with his fists. She kept him pressed against the bricks and he could feel the pressure painfully against his shoulder blades. His eyes widened at what he saw.
    This is not possible!
    Her hair, which had began moving on its own, was clumping into thick sections. At first, they resembled dreadlocks but within seconds, they looked more like snakes. He first had thought the ends were turning into knots of hair until one struck at him, opening its little mouth and flicking its tongue, barely touching the tip of his nose.
    He wondered if he’d bought a bad batch of weed. He’d smoked a joint a few hours ago, but surely, that had to have worn off by now. The woman’s eyes were shining gently. White glowing light expanded and her pupils dilated into large pools of black ink. He turned his eyes to look down the alley; the woman he had attacked had vanished. When he turned back, her eyes were glowing green. Not a sick pale green but a dark hue, a rich forest green that seemed to chill him to his bones. He was chilled, actually freezing. He was getting colder by the second. He couldn’t look away from her gaze and he couldn’t move, not a muscle. Panicking, he realized something was happening to his body. His legs felt heavy, as if he was swimming while wearing thick pants. The stiffness was building up into serious pain. His veins were solidifying and his lungs hardening. It was hard to breathe. He opened his mouth to scream and found his throat had closed up. His vision clouded over, first smoking grey, then solid black as he saw and moved no more.

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  2. She sighed as the nanites completed their work. The constant tinglings inside and out would be missed a little bit as they had been her constant companions for the past two years. The decision had been an easy one for Terana. Being a former Terran Protectorate investigator and enforcer, she had already served for several years Earth’s Great Society and beyond. Although the people of Earth had come together to fix problems such as the environment, hunger, and medicine, bad people still did bad things and the Protectorate handled justice for Earth and it’s colonies Pythea being among them. Finding a world that was habitable through minor terraforming and that only partial biological hybridization would be needed, the Pythian colony had become very popular for earther’s or Terrans, if you prefer, who adored ancient mythology as much as Terana did.
    Her legs still functioned under the lower snake torso that had overtaken them, and her training with her new body had gone well. Her arms and back had become scaly and tough, and the sensory and protective appendages that had grown over her hair would be helpful.
    The writhing had freaked her out at the beginning, but learning that both her mood and sensory input would cause the movement, she had learned to handle both. After leaving her restructuring tank after the final treatment, she looked at herself on the mirror.
    “Medus was never that hot,”, she heard a somewhat familiar voice say.
    Looking around she saw her former watch commander, Jason Screed, approaching her. Because of the region he was responsible for, he had been rebuilt as a kind of big cat centaur, and she couldn’t tell if it was tiger or leopard or both, but it seemed to suit him.
    “Looking pretty good yourself boss,” she replied”, taking on the plains regions?’
    “Yep”, he replied, half snarling,” would have gotten the rain forests like you and Trembler did, but their current boss, couldn’t handle it.”
    Body adaptation wasn’t for everyone and due to issues that could arise, templates of a core form were saved.
    “Yes, but once he transitions back, there are no more colonies, right?”, Terana inquired.
    “Got that right, snake-girl, now enough jawing, and get your rest and finish your training”, he replied with a playful, almost roar,” I expect to see on the vid screens at the next colony briefing.”
    Laughing, her ‘head snakes’ shivered with her humor and she slithered to her now fully modified cabin to prepare for the rest of her journey.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. A Gorgon’s Eye
    Becca Mitchell

    Captain Avery had no memory of how he got to this desolate and lonely Island. He only knew that the bartender had given him that bloody drink and said that it would ensure he find the magic, beauty, and power that he sought in his life.
    That was all he remembered before waking up on the shores of this tiny island with a dense fog all around and the sound of crashing waves. Captain Avery couldn’t make out much, but as he stepped deeper into the island he made out the remains of a temple. He held tight to his rifle and glanced around. There was nothing, there was no one, yet there was an unmistakable feeling of being watched.
    He was almost at the temple when he saw a form between two pillars. He recognized it as a well formed woman with long flowing hair. He tried to call out to her, but she stepped back into the shadows. There was something about her, he had to follow, he hoped too that maybe she could at least tell him where he was.
    As he made his way inside he heard the soft chuckle of a woman. “Excuse me Ma’am but I’m very lost, I was hoping you could help me?” He heard shuffling behind him. Then he heard her voice, husky and soft “Go on.” Captain Avery shook his head with amusement, “Well there’s not much other than I probably drink too much.” Captain Avery’s smile was cut off when he found he couldn’t move. He tried to wiggle his feet when something huge had bound his torso and legs. He glanced down and saw that he was being constricted by the biggest snake he ever saw. His gun was pressed against him, but he was able to free one arm to go for his pocket knife.
    He could make out the shadowy form of the woman coming toward him and he relaxed. She moved closer, fear gripped at him and he was too stunned to speak. The snakes that were her hair snapped and hissed at him. Her tunic covered her scaled breasts as well as the bottom half of her that was the very serpent that had him in a death grip. Then he saw her eyes, gorgeous light violet eyes that danced. As Medusa squeezed him and as his body was hardened he muttered one word before he became one of her many statues, “Beautiful” Medusa smiled “thank you” she replied in a husky voice.
    Medusa smiled at her new prize for her lush garden. Looking over his strange belongings that she would use and look through later, she debated on at least sending the bartender a thank you for keeping her gorgeous garden of statues well stocked for all these years.

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    By Thomas R Clark

    The bitch asked for it, they said. She asked for it and deserved what she got. No, they weren’t referring to her self-banishment to the Convent, she went there of her own volition. And no, they weren’t so callous as to blame her for the violation motivating her exodus. They may have believed her beauty made her culpable to some extent, still it didn’t excuse her rapist. The pregnancy to follow was but a collateral effect, the child another innocent bystander in a chain of crimes. The crude extraction of the unborn fetus from her exsanguinated corpse wasn’t her fault either. It needed to be done to save his life.

    But her death? They all knew the answer.

    “She brought this shit on herself.”

    When you kill every man on an island with nine square miles of real estate, it won’t take long for anyone with half a brain to figure out who is making revenge fantasies come true. Poisoning the water supply with enough anti-E.D. meds to prevent a boy’s school from answering questions at the chalkboard for a semester? Some might call this a brilliant prank. Cutting off their stiff, blood engorged cocks and weaving them into her matted hair? This crossed the line. Mutilation of this nature is frowned upon by most any society.

    She created a dozen scarecrows, leaving the dismembered, naked bodies of her victims strewn about the Church’s grounds for all to see. Each of their faces revealed a death mask, frozen in agony from unwilling castration. The carnage struck fear in the hearts of the island’s surviving inhabitants. They were given no recourse and called for aid. The assassin answered their call, armed and dangerous, ready to exact the capital punishment for her crimes with extreme prejudice.

    The assassin arrived earlier in the day, hiding in the mists of morning, using stealth and guile to enter the Convent grounds unnoticed. He hid in the shadows of the sanctuary, ever so patient in waiting, watching, and following her movements; anticipating when he should strike. Opportunities came, only to be thwarted by circumstance. He couldn’t be too careful, and to make eye contact with her could spell the difference between the assassin’s life or death.

    When the moment presented itself, he almost failed. Hubris born from overconfidence in his armament alerted the murderer to his presence. She could have run, left to fight another day. Her ill-advised pursuit of the hunter, when she was the prey, led to her extermination. The assassin’s errant blow struck her in the neck, separating it from the body.

    The woman’s bitter, scowling visage of rage remained, even after death. Her head rolled down the steps of the sanctuary, making wet slapping sounds with each impact on the stone stairs. It came to a stop, a muddy tincture of earthen matter stuck to the bloody stump. Her purple, bloated tongue stuck out between smiling, pointed teeth, to hang from cold, crimson lips.


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    Love Bite

    by Ruthann Jagge

    When you live in Texas you know that Spring means you need to be careful when you’re outside. Things creep, slither, scurry, and crawl awake after their rest.

    Sammie Jo lived with him out near the oil fields where life was slower and the work was harder. She didn’t have much but her garden was special and digging in the dirt making things come to life gave her a bit of hope.

    Most days she could hide the bruises: he knew how to hurt without hitting her face and her pride wouldn’t ever allow people to see and talk. She skipped mass sometimes on Sunday because Saturday nights could be bad but no one really noticed.

    It was not so awful-hot yet that Saturday morning so she picked up the worn duct-taped hoe that had belonged to Grandpa and started to work her small patch. She had dried seeds all Winter and was excited to get them in the ground!

    It felt like a rubber band snapping against her ankle: sharp but more annoying than painful. Sammie looked down and saw a small, bright orange snake she didn’t recognize quickly making a path through the dirt, almost sparkling in the sunlight and thought it was a pretty thing but damn her ankle had started to burn like hell and swell like a balloon!

    She went in to get ice but tripped as she walked up the sagging wooden stairs of the trailer. Everything was spinning and she fell to the dirt as she passed out.
    The cool night air teased her out of darkness as Sammie struggled to stand. Hours must have passed and as she stumbled into the small kitchen, she smelled cooking grease and stale beer. He must have come home and walked in not noticing or caring.

    The pain was gone and she felt more alive than she had in a long time, her skin was tingling and she wanted sex in the worst way! He had passed out on the bed and the room was dark except for the TV so Sammie stripped and eased herself in next to him.

    “Oh so now you like me you whore!” he spat at her as she wrapped her arms around him tight and clamped a leg over his. Sammie leaned close and closed her eyes as her new enhancements began to wind around his throat, some easing into his ears and nose. He may have tried to struggle but it didn’t matter, she was having the best orgasm of her life as his ended!

    When she had finished, she stood and caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked-mirror leaning against the door and smiled. It sure was nice to feel beautiful again.

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