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Between A Rock And A Hard Place

By

Rob Astor

Word Count: 897 Words

Glaucushia woke suddenly. Torrid blackness enveloped her like a cloak. For a second, Glaucushia thought she was blind. A faint, whispering voice filled her head, singing a very strange song.
***
Plucking blue sillas, Glaucushia fastened some to her hair. She hummed, poking a hole in the soil. “Silly Scylla, silly Scylla, Poseidon don’t love ya no more,” Glaucushia sang, repeating the melody she heard in her head during the ink black night. Auntie Circe’s posture straightened. She gazed at Glaucushia. “Silly Scylla, silly Scylla, planting sillas brings blessings to our shore.”
Quickly collecting herself, Circe scuttled up close to Glaucushia. “Where did you hear that song?” Auntie Circe asked.
“I’m sorry, Auntie.” Glaucushia’s voice was pure, sweet, innocent. “I’ll concentrate on my work. I promise.”
Pausing, Circe gazed anxiously toward the water. “Okay, let’s hurry and finish planting the new seeds.” She returned to her spot.
Glaucushia beamed, humming. She dropped seeds into the soil. “Auntie, why are we planting so many?” All around was a veritable sea of blue.
“Like the song says, sweetie, they bring blessings to our shore.”
“I bet blessings taste like honey.”
Circe nodded. “Yes, like honey.”
Poking another hole, Glaucushia’s finger touched something hard. Curious, she pushed dirt aside, revealing a metal box. Glaucushia looked over her shoulder. Auntie Circe was distracted.
Glaucushia found a latch. There has to be treasure in here, she thought. Lifting the lid, her eyes gleamed as she drew in a silent gasp. “Wow!”
Circe turned. Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth gaped. “By the gods!”
Nestled inside the box was a glowing red sphere, flashing with wild flames. “Close it up!” Circe snapped, voice clipped and hoarse. “Close it up tight!”
“I found it! It’s my treasure!” Glaucushia folded her arms and scrunched up her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Yes, it’s yours,” Circe assured, slowly lowering the lid. “But, not today.”
***
“Why can’t I have my treasure?” It was a question Glaucushia asked countless times in the years since discovering the glowing garnet hued globe.
Answers were never simple when it came to Auntie Circe. “It’s very powerful, created by Phorcys to restore life to those who fall before Atropos. The charm you sang as a little child was a spell your grandmother--”
“Who was she?”
“The goddess Hecate.” So many questions. Glaucushia never knew any family. To hear she was of the lineage of the ancient gods! Circe wove a fascinating tale of a heroic father who fought in the Trojan War murdered by a monster on his journey home. Her mother. The gemstone globe could bring her back to life.
“Who was my mother?”
“Scylla.”
***
“I’m taking my globe and bringing my mother back.”
“Reconsider.”
“You told me she was a beautiful Nymph before the horrible transformation. She might come back in that form.”
“The transformation… There’s so much you don’t understand.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mother!”
For the first time in years, Auntie Circe cried. Real tears. “It’s my fault, Glaucushia. It’s my fault your mother’s dead.”
***
Heart riven with sorrow, Glaucushia ran from Circe’s castle holding the globe box close to her chest. As Auntie Circe called in the distance, Glaucushia disappeared into the night.
***
Impressive was the passage in the full light of day. Towering rock formations climbed into the sky, divided by water flowing into the Mediterranean. Rock outcroppings twisted and turned, almost monstrously. It was easy to imagine Auntie Circe’s tales of a real monster fossilized.
Glaucushia set the metal box on the sand. She lifted the lid. Her globe sparkled like brilliant embers.
A howling storm blew up without warning. Violent wind slammed the box lid shut. Crackling lightning pummeled the beach. Standing before Glaucushia was the shimmering image of divine power, holding a shield with a coiling snake and a long spear, wearing a golden war helmet over reddish-auburn hair. Gray eyes flashed like lightning.
“Athena…” Glaucushia whispered. She fell to her knees.
“Why continue this adolescent defiance?”
“Circe put the potion in the pool. She transformed my mother into a monster,” Glaucushia cried. “She robbed me of my mother.”
Athena kneeled down to Glaucushia, touching her shoulder, raising her chin. “You’re mistaken. The potion only transforms someone into what’s already in their souls. She was a daughter of Triton. My step-sister. I knew her very well.”
“You mean…”
“Scylla was a monster.”
“Circe escapes punishment?”
“No. She loves you dearly. She’s been your mother in every way. I pleaded her case before Zeus himself that something good should come of Scylla’s transformation. Circe sent six men to their deaths. One of them was your father, Glaucus. For that crime, Circe is sentenced to spend six centuries planting silla seeds all along Old World coasts.”
“I don’t understand.”
Athena helped the maiden to her feet. “I knew the gemstone might one day be used to restore Scylla. Hecate, Gaea, and myself devised a plan to keep you and Circe safe from Scylla’s wrath. The silla flowers are deadly poison to Scylla and only her.” For the first time, everything made sense to Glaucushia; the planting and moving.
Athena gave the box back to Glaucushia. “Keep this in a safe place. Return to Circe. Her task is to love and keep you.”
Tears rolled down Glaucushia’s cheeks. “Thank you.” Glaucushia turned her back on the mammoth formations, returning home.

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Publication Date: 07-06-2011

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