Respinning the Web

**Title credit to Tom Skye**

You have probably heard my story, even if you don't think of it as mine. I have no idea what stories that cursed goddess' has spread since what she did to me - but I know that they won't be accurate. After all; No one likes to give credit to their enemies.

Perhaps I should explain. Athena was not my enemy, not at first, but she never liked me. I never liked her either, so we were even.

In all honesty, I think she was just jealous. Actually, I take that back. I know she was just jealous. So what if I was better at weaving than her? So what if I bragged when I shouldn't have? None of us are perfect - not even the Olympians, if the alarming number of demigods (ahem Zeus) is any example.

She didn't have to go all warning-giving old lady on me just because I happened to have said that my weaving skills surpassed even that of Athena's.

Oh, silly me. I forgot to introduce myself. Funny, when the whole reason of my being like this is because I spoke too highly of myself.

My name is Arachne.

Is my story ringing a bell? Good. It had better, because this is the first time my true story is coming to light, untouched by that so-called 'wisdom goddess' - if she was so wise, surely she should have known what was going to happen next.

After she appeared to me in the form of an old woman (seriously? you are an all-powerful goddess, and you choose to appear as an old lady?) and gave me the warning, I laughed. Probably not the best idea in front of a prideful being who could have pounded me right then and there, but Athena's pride would not be allow her to do that.

Instead, she chose to reveal herself in her true form and challenge me.

The challenge came in the form of a lesson, and the lesson came in the form of four seriously PG-13 weavings.

They were, after all, the language I understood best.

The stories depicted images of what happened to mortals who thought they were equal to gods. They showed gruesome images and displays of punishment, images of men clawing our their own throats at the will of the gods, punishment for some wrongdoing that probably was nowhere near as bad as what the Olympians themselves did.

I mean, seriously! Hera threw her own son off a mountain because he was too ugly for her sight. Talk about child abuse.

The point of these four tapestries were to warn me of what might come if I continued my prideful behavior.

But alas; I did not heed her warnings.

Instead, I made four weavings of my own.

I know what you are thinking; Aw, come on, there is no way this mortal woman with a bragging issue could possibly beat a goddess. Silly, idiotic Arachne; you couldn't possibly win. Why don't you just go buy a potion from Hecate and spare Athena the trouble of turning you into an eight-legged monstrosity and do it yourself.

If I got it right and that is what you were thinking, go away. Nobody asked you.

My weaving shadowed Athena's own - only mine showed images of instances where the gods punished humans without good reason.

I showed the times where the gods had been less than fair, dealing punishment and judgement when it was not there to deal.

And oh boy, was Athena displeased.

Actually, displeased is putting it mildly.

She was furious.

It turns out that immortals can't stand anything that doesn't portray them in their best light (Which, if we are being honest, they don't always have one).

I mean - jeez! Can't she take a joke?

To rub salt in the wound, my weavings were much better than Athena's. To add humility to anger at the prospect at being beat by a mortal? yikes. 0/10. Do not recommend.

Enraged and with a wounded pride, Athena cursed me.

I've heard some versions of the story where she threw Hecate's poison at me, but that is not true. No, the goddess used her own power to ruin me.

Aside from being a talented weaver, I was also very beautiful. With my long black hair and fair skin, I was a sight to behold. Now though, I am hideous. With my spindly legs and wide, gaping eyes - I look like some kind of otherworldly being, like the chimera or a sloth. No offense to sloths, of course - I wouldn't want to offend Hypnosis as well as Athena.

Ultimately, I ended up as a spider - doomed to a life of doing what I loved best: weaving.

I can now weave all day long, aside from the parts where I pause to eat a tasty bug or run for my life as some servant throws a vase at me out of disgust at my new appearance.

This is where the whole "different point of view" thing comes in.

My story was passed on through the Greeks to be used as a symbol of what happens when one becomes too prideful. It was used to keep young, ambitious women in their place - warning them that someday, if their ambition is not quenched, they might meet my fate.

But you must remember - that version of the story was passed on by Athena. She saw it as a goddess putting a braggart in her place, doing a deed of justice by defending the honor of her fellow Olympians.

That isn't how I see it.

I see it as a angry goddess acting out of pride, unable to admit that she could ever do wrong - and thus anyone who suggested that she had acted wrongly should be punished.

I mean; sure, my head got too big for my shoulders, but was it that wrong to call out the gods on their mistakes? Would it kill them to have a bit of modesty?

If anything, I am terrified that my fate has been used to scare young girls into submission. My story, in my eyes, is one of rebellion - rebellion against the gods, of whom it would do good for them to be brought down to our level.

In the end, it is up to you whose side you believe.

Athena's; the story of a goddess who brought a bratty mortal down to her level (Toe-level, apparently).

Or mine; the story of a girl who tried to point out the mistakes of those above her, and was ultimately doomed to crawl the earth and eat insects.

After all - Athena didn't stop me from weaving, she just altered my form. So what if I have eight legs and no thumbs? I am now capable of designs I wasn't before.

And even now, after I have passed into mythology; my children live on. In every crevice of the earth, they thrive - multiplying and doing what they were meant to do: weaving.

It is my final hope that eventually, the sight of one of my offspring does not send you mortals into a mad scramble for the nearest newspaper - instead, it sparks something inside of you. A reminder, if you will.

A reminder not to let yourself be crushed by those who oppose you, to keep on doing what you love.

And all the while I'll be watching, smiling from my web - unable to do anything but the passion that ruined me - weaving