Monsters and Gargoyles

Chapter 1 – Medusa

MEDUSA

Itake another long swig of the bottle of booze in my hand.

A nicely dressed couple walk past, shooting me a dirty look.

I grin and take another drink. For a second I think I look freaking cool, and then I hit the trash can.

Tumbling over it, I hit the ground on my back.

The air rushes out of me, but I lift the bottle, satisfied to see I haven’t spilled a drop.

I grin again and lift my other arm. Some old taco wrapper is sticking to my new leather jacket. Great, just great.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I struggle to my feet.

This day just keeps getting better and better. First, I lose my job. Then, my best friend says I’m too much of a screw-up to keep in her life. And now? Now, I have old beans—and what I hope to god isn’t meat—on my new jacket.

I just need to crawl in bed and let this crappy day pass me by.

As I stumble past an alley, I catch a flash of silver. When I pause, my superior vision picks out a woman pressed against the wall. Her breathing is rapid and her pupils dilated. Three men surround her.

I want to walk past. Damn everything to hell, I want to just ignore her.

Nobody appreciates my help anyway.

Closing my eyes, I tell myself this isn’t my problem, but it doesn't matter. I’m already heading down the alley when I open my eyes.

“Hey!” I shout. “You guys just get out of here. I’ve got shit to do.”

Everyone turns to me at once, but the greasy-haired guy holding the knife is the first to speak. “Nice sunglasses, cool girl. What? Too bright for you in this beautiful shit-hole?”

I smirk. “Trust me, asshole, you don’t want me taking these glasses off.”

I glance at the frightened woman to see that she’s not exactly a woman. She’s probably fifteen, but from her dark makeup and barely-there clothes, she wanted to look older.

“Now, this girl and I are going to take off, and you, fellas, can just go on with your night. Okay?”

This time, it’s Greasy’s good-looking friend who responds. “We’re just having fun. Why don’t you join us?”

He starts to move toward me with a big smile on his face. He probably thinks that smile is going to get me going, but I know his type. A pretty face often hides the most dangerous people, and this guy’s dangerous. He's not as dangerous as me though. Fucker.

I take another sip of my drink. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t really mean that to be a question.”

My hand tightens on my bottle. This was seriously the last thing I wanted to deal with tonight, but if these guys needed me to beat the shit out of them, well, I guess I’ll have to do it.

I set my drink down on the edge of a dumpster. “Come here, then. Let's get this over with.”

There’s the slightest flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he masks it as he slides up to me.

He tries to grab my shoulder, but I move with lightning-fast reflexes, twisting his wrist and bringing him to his knees.

A surprised squeak leaves his lips, and I enjoy the look of fear on his face before I snap his wrist. When he screams, I drive my knee into his nose, and a second later he’s sprawled on the ground, out cold.

My gaze moves to his buddies. “Who’s next?”

Greasy boy’s knife moves from the girl to point at me. “What the hell are you? How the hell did you do that?”

I smile and head towards him at a lazy stroll. “That? Oh, that was nothing. What I’m going to do to you is going to make that look like child’s play.”

He slashes the knife out in front of him, his filthy face streaked with sweat.

I can’t help but look at the girl. I can tell she wants to run, but I hope she isn’t stupid enough to do it before I get the knife from Greasy.

When I get close enough, he stabs out at me.

I knock the weapon out of his grasp, and it hits the ground with a clatter. The sound radiates through the alley.

A second later, his quiet friend pulls a gun from his pocket, levels it at me, and pulls the trigger.

Bullets are fast, but unfortunately for these dipshits, I’m faster. I yank his friend in front of me, and the bullet hits him in the back.

Neither man has time to react before I send Greasy flying towards his friend.

Another bullet goes off, and they both hit the ground, with Greasy on top of him.

A pathetic moan comes from one of them, but I’m not sure which one.

I stride toward them, find the hand that’s still clutching the gun, and crush the man’s bones beneath my foot, along with the metal of the barrel.

He screams as I whirl toward the woman. She’s trembling against the wall.

I want to say something, but what am I going to say? Don’t spend your weekends with thugs? Go home to your mom and dad and be a good girl? Why bother? If what just happened doesn’t frighten her enough, nothing I say is going to help.

So, I walk past her and pick up my drink. Taking another chug, I feel another wave of relaxation hit me. God I love tequila.

“Hey!”

I spin around.

The quiet thug hits me in the face, sending my glasses flying. I don’t have time to warn him. To close my eyes. To do anything. Within seconds, he turns to stone, his face forever frozen in horror.

Closing my eyes, I kneel down and reach around until I find my special glasses. Slipping them back on, I look around the alley. The girl takes one look at me and turns and races away.

Slowly I stand. “You’re welcome!”

I turn and start back toward my empty apartment, feeling strangely low. If I actually expected her to appreciate what I did, or thank me, then it isn’t her fault. It’s mine for being completely delusional.

Over two thousand years old, and I haven’t accepted my place in the world. It’s pathetic.

Because—news flash—no one ever appreciates it when I help them. Yeah, everyone likes heroes. But scary monsters? Not so much. And that’s exactly what I am. A monster. Medusa. A woman who can turn anyone to stone with just a glance.

Is it any wonder I’m such a screw up?