Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One Read Online Free PDF Page A

brass-headed young monster landed on an island called Bebrycos—which had a curious history. Before the Great Flood it had been a mountain standing some twenty miles inland. This was shortly after the human race had been planted on earth, and Zeus was becoming sorry he had done so.
    â€œThey’re impossible,” he declared to the High Council. “They lie as fast as they can talk, help themselves to their neighbors’ property, and murder each other wholesale.”
    â€œBut Sire,” said Hermes, who had always been a friend to man, “they only do what we do.”
    â€œPerhaps …” said Zeus. “But we are gods and know how to forgive ourselves. Our habits, when practiced by mortals, become abominations. I’m going to send a flood of water and wash that foul breed right off the earth.”
    Whereupon, angry Zeus scooped the oceans out of their beds, and the rivers and the lakes—lifted the mass of water up to heaven and dropped it upon earth in a mighty flood. Cities, towns, and villages were swept away—and farms and sheepfolds, and all the dwellings of man. The Middle Sea doubled its size, swallowing up great chunks of land whose mountaintops became islands.
    Everyone on earth was drowned except a man named Deucalion and his wife, Pyrrha—who were either more virtuous than others, or better swimmers. For the ancient tale tells how the boat built by Deucalion was sucked under, how he and his wife struggled to stay afloat in the raging waters, and were finally deposited, half dead, on the island that had once been the top of Mt. Bebrycos.
    The island was lush. The castaways found fruit to eat, springwater to drink. But there were no other people on the island, and, looking out upon the waste of waters, they could see no sail.
    â€œWe must build another boat and go to a place where there are other people,” said Pyrrha.
    â€œHow do you know that there are any people anywhere?” asked Deucalion. “Perhaps we’re the only ones left alive.”
    â€œNo, it can’t be! I can’t bear the thought!” cried Pyrrha. “It would be too lonesome that way.”
    Deucalion could not bear to see his wife suffer. He turned his face to the blank sky and said: “If there be something up there, speak to me, I pray. Tell me if there are any other people on earth. Or are we the last?”
    A voice spoke out of the sky. “You are the last. Praise our mercy.”
    â€œI thank you for holding our heads above the water,” said Deucalion. “Now I ask a further act of mercy. If we are the last people left alive on earth, then take us also. For we cannot bear the loneliness.”
    There was silence. A great hush filled the world. Even the gulls had stopped calling. Man and wife looked at each other. The voice spoke again.
    â€œDeucalion and Pyrrha, gather the bones of your mother, and as you walk cast them over your shoulders.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?” whispered Pyrrha. “The bones of our mother? We had different mothers. And their bones aren’t here anyway.”
    â€œThe gods speak in riddles sometimes,” said Deucalion, “and measure our faith by our ability to unriddle what they say.”
    â€œYou’re speaking in that funny way too,” said Pyrrha. “I can’t stand it. Tell me plainly—what does he mean by the bones of our mother?”
    â€œSince we do have different mothers, perhaps the voice means a common mother—Mother Earth. But what would be her bones?”
    â€œHow about rocks?” said Pyrrha.
    â€œRocks?… Well, we can try.”
    But rocks were big, and socketed deep in the earth; they couldn’t be budged. So they each gathered an armful of stones and walked along the beach casting them over their shoulders.
    They heard footsteps behind them, and whirled about. The stones were turning into people. Those Deucalion had cast became men, and women