III. Die Sünde by Franz von Stuck.
The Medusa affair passed soon enough and I shifted back to my own vampiric form, though of course, a part of that screeching, snake-haired gorgon will always remain wriggling alive inside of me. I have never been able to shift back into her again, sadly, but I did gain a new gift after the experience - the gift of communicating with and charming snakes. Kind of like that little sanctimonious wizard boy with the glasses, except way better looking.
A few years after all that, I somehow found myself in Munich. I had already left Mother in Greece and was slowly making my way to London, but had decided to take a little detour through Bavaria to see the great castle Neuschwanstein. On my very first night in the Bavarian capital, I caught the eye of the great German painter, Franz Stuck. Stuck recognised me immediately. ‘You are Böcklin’s Medusa!’ he cried out to me from out of nowhere. I was crouched down in an alleyway, gnawing on the thigh of a drunken yodeller, but well, what can I say? It was kismet.
Stuck couldn’t get enough of me. I made many trips back to Munich to see him over the years, posing as his Medusa, his Sphinx, his Salome. But it was as his Eve, in the embrace of a handsome young serpent named Ludwig, first in Die Sinnlichkeit and later in Die Sünde, that the three of us created real magic. Stuck made thirteen copies of Die Sünde, though only twelve are known to your kind. The thirteenth hangs here in my Grande Galerie. As you can see, my body used to just scream sensuality in those days. These days, it squawks more than screams, at times barely making out more than a feeble ‘neh,’ but well, that is a story for another time. 🦷 #thevampireannika