by Rosie Harper
Not much has changed in that regard, she thought, chuckling for a second. But then, the rest of the memories came pouring in, wiping anything that resembled a smile off her face almost immediately.
She remembered having ignored her family’s orders to remain at home after sunset. Barely ten at the time, Adrasteia sneaked out on her own, intent on spending the night at her favorite location: the beach. Crete was not as crime free at the time, though, and the little girl was quickly found by a band of particularly ruthless slavers.
Unkempt, full of scars, and reeking of bad hygiene, the men would have been terrifying even if they were not armed to the teeth. Cackling as he spat the words out, their leader, a freakishly large man of darker skin, beckoned the girl to come quietly, lest they have to scar her face and thus diminish the profits they were about to reap from the sale.
To this day, the men’s faces remain seared in Adrasteia’s memory. She could recall every mark, every little hair. Every disgusting hole where a tooth was supposed to be. What happened soon after, though, thought, overshadowed her recollection of them by far.
The man on the far right was the first to go, something having hit him in the torso with a force that no human being was capable of. The others were still in the process of turning around when his body was lifted off the ground, limbs rocking erratically and blood spraying everywhere. Whatever it was that still held the corpse up wasted no time, immediately hitting the next slaver right between the eyes, causing the man’s head to burst open like a smashed watermelon.
Finally, someone managed to turn a torch toward the attacker’s general direction, revealing a sight no one should ever witness: near an almost headless body that sprayed brain matter onto the beach, stood a massive, eight foot tall figure, hairy and bulging with muscle, the other man impaled on top of the large pair of horns that adorned its head.
As if provoked by the light, the creature darted forward, showing no sign of being slowed down by its gruesome new head ornament. Reacting fast, the leader of the slavers leapt right in front of the thing, attempting to intercept its oversized fist with the brunt of his shield – and regretting it immediately. A gruesome sound of bone snapping followed, overpowering even the panicked screams of the remaining men.
Tossing the leader to the side like an empty water skin, the creature immediately turned toward its remaining prey. Now pale and sweating from shock, the slavers attempted to form a coherent fighting formation, but the beast’s next maneuver broke their morale completely, as well as adding insult to injury.
With a quick motion, the monster tilted its head forward, causing the carcass impaled on its head to fly toward the men. By the time they’ve regained their footing, the unfortunates found themselves up close with the creature’s monstrous visage: That of a monstrous, rabid bull.
What happened next was a blur of scarlet and pink that Adrasteia’s memory refused to contain. All she could recall was the resulting pile of beaten and shredded flesh that used to belong to the slavers, and the gargantuan figure of the Minotaur standing on top of it, howling at the sky in triumph.
Then, as if it came to a realization, the monster’s head turned toward the little girl, allowing their eyes to meet. Those eyes didn’t belong to some animal, Adrasteia recalled clearly. They were as human as anyone else’s.
Slowly, the figure dismounted the little red mountain it had just made, right before it proceeded to advance toward the little girl. Carefully, one step at a time, the thing strode, as if a human being would approach a frightened cat they were about to befriend. Or so it appeared to me, the woman allowed herself to interrupt her memory. Regardless of the Minotaur’s intentions, she concluded, the end result was the same.
Again, the beach took the form it had more than ten years ago, the moon replacing the sun up in the sky, and the little girl taking the place of the woman. Shaking with fear, the child managed to stay in place for little more than a couple of seconds before turning around and running toward the city.
Immediately, a monstrous shriek echoed across the sands of Knossos’ beach. Still dashing as fast as she was capable of, the little girl expected the creature to hunt her down as it did the men. However, absolutely no sound of footsteps could be heard. By the time she was out of breath and dared to turn around, there was no sign of the monster, the torn up pieces of the slavers apparently left alone on the coast.
And my life has not been the same since.
Back in the moment, Adrasteia turned toward the shore again. With apathy, the woman took another look at her fellow Cretans. She could almost feel how happy they were. For them, life was clearly split between joy and fear, pleasure and pain. Day and night.
I am not like that, she came to the conclusion she already knew in advance. For Adrasteia, the world was not as cleanly split between light and darkness. I don’t need to live by someone else’s rules. Then, the realization came upon her: she couldn’t be like them if she wanted to. She never was. Her world forever lay beyond theirs. Is it the same with the Minotaur? It probably is.
Suddenly, the woman felt her undergarments become moist, as they always did whenever she would remember the story. I guess I wish to repay my savior, she would inevitably tell herself, in a futile attempt to rationalize what she already knew: The beast’s power aroused her to no end.
For years now, she has tried, unsuccessfully, to change the people’s views about her savior. After all, Adrasteia would say, he didn’t chase after me that night, so he must at least have some control over who he kills.
“Hogwash!” was their usual answer. “Tell that to all the young men who found their ends at the horns of that monster!” would often follow.
“But those men were trained soldiers! Killers! All of them went for the Minotaur’s own head. How do you know that he was not simply defending himself?”
This argument would often send the person into a frenzy of profanities directed toward Adrasteia, her savior, and the night in general. Eventually, she stopped trying and caring.
These days I rarely do anything at all, the woman thought, still observing the beach and all the people who enjoyed its simple pleasures. What’s the point of it all? She asked herself. Am I supposed to ape everyone else’s routine from dusk ‘till dawn?
“Be a good girl and do as you’re told,” Adrasteia could hear the words of her father, a major figure in Knossos, echo within another corner of her memory, “and life will always be good to you.”
Be a puppet, she translated the words for herself. Smile all the time. Learn how to make quality fabric. Again, she swept her gaze over the entirety of the beach, trying to find someone, anyone, who wasn’t completely caught up in looking like an ass. Expectedly, there was no one of the sort.
Stop saying that nonsense about the monster, she kept ranting inside her own head with the voice of her father, don’t go out in the night. Finally, she let her inner voice fall silent for a moment before finally letting it speak once more: Stop doing everything that keeps driving your suitors away.
“After all,” her father’s voice spoke to her again, right out of the past, “you don’t want your family to die out because of your whims, do you?”
By the looks of thing, papa, it seems like that’s exactly the way it’s going to be. She remembered the faces of young men when she would pass by. Somehow, they would all inevitably manage to say “freak” without opening their mouths or making a sound. Somehow, Adrasteia’s breeding, family, and money made no difference. No one wanted to court a disobedient girl with no womanly skills, who was also likely to be insane.
The years passed by quicker and quicker since then, and before the girl knew it, she was well into womanhood, and finding suitors had become even more difficult. Then, by the time she turned 25, they seemed to have disappeared altogether. Her father stopped talking to her, sending her money through servants instead of having any direct contact with the source of his shame.
I bet you’re not too happy that mother passed on in order
to produce something as disappointing as me, right? Adrasteia imagined talking to her father for a second, the way she never had the courage to.
Then, an idea sprung into her mind, as insane and reckless that only someone with no other option would consider it. She would wait until it was dusk, when everyone would go home like good little slaves. Then, like she did so long ago, she would blatantly disobey the rules and go out again.
Only this time, the woman thought, I’m not going to frolic on the beach, oh no.
“Tonight,” Adrasteia spoke aloud, getting goose bumps after who knows how long, “I will go directly to my savior!”
Out of sheer curiosity, the woman looked around again. If anyone heard a single word she said, they most certainly didn’t show it.
***
In a hurried pace, and mindful of the possibility that she might have been followed, Adrasteia raced across the moon-lit field as fast as her legs could take her. Evading the guards was as easy as always; their job was to keep threats out, not people in.
Well, good riddance, the woman thought, looking back toward the great city of Knossos for what she was certain to be the last time. Whether she was right or wrong, Adrasteia knew that after this there would be no going back.
If I’m wrong, which I sincerely doubt, she considered as she turned forward, resuming her pace again. Then this will be the end of me and that will be that. As grisly as it sounded, a part of her considered it a preferable alternative to her old life. Solitude is solitude, regardless of whether it’s in life or death.
Almost immediately, Adrasteia forced herself to excise the thought. There was no need for whatsoever. She was right. She knew it with every part of her being.
Then why can I feel that familiar numbness in the center of my stomach? The part of her that she’d rather not listen reared its ugly head, all too eager to shake her confidence in whatever she was up to at the time. It’s not fear, she told herself as she kept pressing on. It’s anticipation! Somehow, her innards were not that easily persuaded.
If I am right, though, the woman continued her inner monologue,I will kill more birds with one stone than I can count. Feeling mirthful again by the mere mention of this prospect, Adrasteia resumed her running again, impatient to finally get to the beast’s lair. Tonight, she knew, it will all make sense. She will finally learn more about the Minotaur, of herself, whether the other Cretans were right or wrong… All the answers would come soon.
Most importantly, she reminded herself, I will be able to thank him for what he did… the way I was supposed to.
The rest of the way was a blur that Adrasteia mostly experienced from the inside of her own head, repeating the same questions and answer over and over again, until she finally saw it: the colossal mountain that the elders of Knossos refused to name. Supposedly, at the base of this unpleasant place, lay the entrance to the cave of the Minotaur.
The entrance that supposedly never let anyone out, the woman reminded herself. “Let’s go find it,” she spoke the extension of the previous sentence out loud, as if to check whether there was anything around to react. Expectedly, the area was completely barren of anything of the sort.
That’s one way in which this place is similar to where I came from, Adrasteia chuckled as she tried to expunge her fear with a badly thought out joke. A good reason as any other for me to get used to it, she continued, all while maintaining a slow but deliberate pace toward the area that to her seemed most likely to contain the entrance.
Slowly, the base of the mountain grew closer and closer, and with it an increasingly large gash became more and more apparent with every step the woman made. By the time she was next to it, it had become obvious that this large hole in the rocky formation was nothing if not a welcoming, torch-lit entrance.
That was completely unexpected, Adrasteia thought as she kept trying to get a decent glimpse of whatever laid beyond the improvised door. Her efforts, though, were useless, as the passage curved to the right almost immediately after the entrance. In order to continue, she had to go in.
Or do I?
Sitting on top a nearby rock, the woman weighed her options, tempted by the flames as they illuminated the beckoning entrance. It was known that this place housed the Minotaur. Man after man tried to down the great beast, and no one has ever returned alive. Or at all, she corrected herself. The monster was rumored to consume human flesh, and whoever came to hunt it would obviously stay for dinner.
I do know that the Minotaur chose to spare me on that night, so long ago. Would he remember me today? And even if he did, would he recognize my adult shape? Now barely aware of her surroundings, Adrasteia allowed the thoughts to spin freely around her head, hoping to find something useful when they settle down.
This place, the woman thought, returning to the present far quicker than she expected to, it might be some sort of bait.
Now interested in the mountain itself, Adrasteia carefully approached a rough wall, slightly to the right of the entrance. Slowly, she dragged her soft fingers over the rugged surface of the rock. Cretans have long since attempted to bring this mountain down, she recalled the words her father told her. Or at least cave the entrance in.
But no matter what they’d do, the woman continued pondering as she pulled her hand back, all of them couldn’t even make a single crack in the thing. The colossal mountain remained there, completely indestructible, as if the gods themselves willed it so.
If something like that is true, then how in the world did the Minotaur carve out this entrance and whatever’s inside? Assuming, of course, it was his work to begin with…
For a while she stood like that, perplexed about the nature of the mysterious mountain, and when her inner monologue subsided, Adrasteia felt none the wiser about it. This is pointless.
Maybe this mountain isn’t the Minotaur’s home after all, she finally had an idea. Perhaps it is merely a trap – or a series of traps, left to deal with invaders. This, she concluded, made more sense than everything else. If the beast was holed up in here, it would stand to reason that the place was full of danger.
Pleased with her conclusion, the woman nodded to her own ingenuity before taking several steps back from the cold stone of the mountain.
Still, I have no better clue than this, Adrasteia thought as she sat down on another, much smaller stone, several feet to the right of the cave’s entrance. Whether the Minotaur actually resides here or not,the only way to learn about it would be to wait here.
And wait she did, sitting patiently on her increasingly less comfortable spot for hours. By the time the first sound broke this silence, the woman was well on her way toward dozing off. Expectedly, though, the pounding caused by a pair of unmistakably large limbs had immediately snuffed out any remaining traces of drowsiness from Adrasteia.
He is h– were all the coherent thoughts she could produce before a hulking, inhuman form lumbered right out of the rocky gash before her. Breathing heavily, the beast immediately raised its head, roaring furiously toward the moon. This monstrous spectacle lasted for several seconds, and the awed woman was free to inspect the monster’s muscled body in good detail before the creature noticed that something was amiss.
As if faced with something completely new, the Minotaur stopped his roar abruptly instead of allowing it to subside the way the moon demanded. With a couple of quick motions, he tilted his head left and right, producing a hissing sound that made it obvious that he was sniffing the air in search of whomever it was that invaded his domain.
Less than a second later, when her own pair of dark eyes met with the beast’s pair of yellow ones, having felt the fury that this being contained within, Adrasteia froze completely. Now unable to move a muscle, she considered that maybe this course of action had not been all that wise.
The way the creature moved forward, however, the same way it did so long ago, made the memories in the back of her mind vivid again, and re-ignited her feelings toward her Minotaur. This is the one who killed the slavers and s
aved me, the woman reminded herself, the numb sensation within her nether region giving way to an increasingly stronger, electric one.
It was at that moment that Adrasteia knew, even as the entity the Cretans had dubbed a monster approached, looking more and more dangerous: what she needed all this time, was him.
And maybe, the woman dared herself think, even as she started to disrobe before the monstrosity that kept stomping its way toward her, maybe what he needs is this.
With a single fluid motion, Adrasteia removed her belt, allowing the flowing dress that hid her from the world to slide off and fall onto the ground. Now revealed before the monster was a nude, shapely woman’s body that the men of Knossos would kill to possess, if they ever had the chance to see it.
Taken by surprise, the Minotaur wavered. It appeared, for a second, that this blatant display of the female form had given it pause. But soon another blatant display, this one of the creature’s bulging erection, immediately proved that this was not the case.
Panting and snorting, the monster kept coming closer and closer, with obvious plans for the woman that presented herself to him. Without a hint of hesitation, the Minotaur grabbed Andrasteia by her shoulders and lifted the woman up for a split second, only to forcefully lower her prone body back onto the ground, legs spread wide.
Then, huffing and puffing all the while, the lust-controlled bull man shoved his engorged manhood into his all too willing recipient’s not so private region. Feeling something split within her, Adrasteia could feel her insides stretch to their limits in order to accommodate the invader’s enormous member.
At first, it seemed that the pain would be too much for her to endure. However, the woman’s arousal, along with the realization that the moment she had been waiting most of her life for was just happening, worked wonders at transforming that discomfort into something more akin to pleasure.