Perseus – A Modern Retelling
Written by Ruth Merttens
Animated by Katie Taylor
Illustrated by Katie Taylor and Jackie Abey
Perce scowled. He was not at all pleased to see Mr Polydectes again. Alright he was rich, and people said he was the most important and powerful man around these parts; they even called him King P. But Perce hated him! He knew exactly what King P was after – Perce’s mum!
Perce had known it was too good to last. The last three years had been the best of his life. He still remembered how happy he had felt when he and his mum had arrived at the small village sticking out into the sea on a long, thin bit of rocky land. They had been staying in a small hostel, looking for work and somewhere to live, and Dick had taken them in.
For King Pwanted Danni. He wanted her to move in with him – to go and live up there in the big, grand house on the hill. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came down to the small, wooden house so often that Dick grew silent and morose, often taking the fishing boat out for days at a time.
Danni did not like King P. And she was happy with Dick and their life together with Perce and the fishing and the sea. But she was scared. Perce knew how she felt. They had spent their lives being scared with Archie. Well, here was another Archie – A BULLY WHO ALWAYS GOT WHAT HE WANTED.
So Perce was scared, and sad. And Dick was even sadder. And Danni felt helpless and lost. But one day Perce took matters into his own hands…
King P had come down to the shore. Perce was helping Dick to bring the boat in. Danni came out to greet them, but then she saw King P
She flinched, just like she used to in the old days when Archie came back from the pub. Perce felt a rage he had never felt before.
“GET OUT OF OUR LIVES!” he shouted, so loudly that he thought the cliffs might tumble and the rocks might break. “Go away, and don’t ever come back!” King P turned and stared at Perce. For a moment Perce thought he might hit him. He stood his ground, trying to look braver than he felt. Then King P turned away. “And who’s going to make me?” he said, lazily. “Certainly not you!”
Perce stared at the man. He knew he was just a kid, an insignificant boy, but he felt strangely strong. “I will make you,” he replied. “I shall find something which even you will have to take notice of.” Then he started to walk away along the rocky beach. “Don’t worry,” he called back to them all. “I shall return, and you (he pointed at King P, who was still smirking) will be sorry when I do!”
Perce approached the cave from which the noise seemed to be coming. The snoring rumble was regular and deep.
He also noticed that smoke seemed to be wafting out of the mouth of the cave.
Perce sneaked up and peered cautiously and silently round the edge of the rock.
Inside was a huge dragon! Perce pinched himself hard to make sure he was awake and not dreaming. There, in the midst of the cave, lay a ginormous, scaly, yellow, brown and red dragon. And it was breathing fire as it slept!
Perce retreated hurriedly. He scrambled away from the cave and crawled into another crack in the mountainside a few metres away. He felt a bit safer hidden. But wait! He was evidently not the first to hide there! There on the rock, scratched in what looked like charcoal, was a message.
Perce read the message over and over. Then he thought for a long time, whilst the evening light faded and the dragon snored. He stood up suddenly, resolute. He knew what he was going to do!
Traditional
The knife Perce had tucked into his belt for cleaning the fish with Dick was long, sharp and slender. He withdrew it from his belt, and reached into his back pocket for the tin in which he kept the fishhooks. He held the tin lid up – it shone brightly, like a mirror.
The dragon was still sleeping, snoring and rumbling, odd jets of smoke and flame issuing from its nostrils. Perce crept slowly, inch by inch, silently along the cave wall, past the terrible head with the scaly eyelids and the slightly open mouth, full of large pointy black teeth. He crept past the front legs and along till he was right opposite the dragon’s chest.
There, in the hollow of its underside, was a large smooth patch of leathery skin. As Perce looked at it, he thought it seemed no worse than the rough, grey skin of the large eels they sometimes caught in the sea. He felt braver, and he lifted his hand with the long, steel knife ready to strike. At that moment, the dragon awoke! The snoring rumble ceased and it turned its great scaly head to gaze at Perce.
Quick as a flash, Perce held up the tin lid. Forcing himself to stare into this, rather than turning to look at the dragon, he used it as a mirror to watch the dragon start to roll over. Before it could complete its movement, or open its wings, or even gather its strength for a massive burst of fire, Perce struck!
He struck fiercely and true, plunging his long knife into the soft underbelly of the dragon. He felt the dragon thrash around. In his tin-lid mirror he could see it straining its neck around to stare at him, trying to turn him to stone. But he kept his eyes firmly fixed on his little tin lid, and held his arm taut, holding the knife straight and true, as it tipped into the very heart of the dragon.
Finally the great beast rolled over and its scaly eyelids dropped shut. Only when Perce was absolutely sure that it was dead did he risk a glance at its face. The dragon looked strangely peaceful, just a small trail of smoke issuing from its open mouth. Perce gripped his knife firmly. He started the grim business of hacking the dragon’s head from its body and forcing its eyes back open.
Clutching the huge head with its open staring eyes, Perce set off back down the mountain. He had a use for this dragon. He was going to meet King P.
Fantastical
Perce marched back up to the dragon’s cave. He reached into his back pocket for the tin in which he kept the hooks for his and Dick’s fishing. He held the lid of the tin up – it shone brightly, like a mirror. He held it up so his back was to the cave and he was looking into his makeshift mirror.
Then he shouted, “Hey, Dragon! Wake up!”
The snoring rumble stopped abruptly, as if someone had turned off the sound on a TV programme. There was a scrabbling sound of a massive beast stirring. Perce had never felt so much like running away! His legs were shaking so much he could hardly stand. But he thought of King P’s smirking face and gained courage. “Hey, Dragon!” he called again.
There was a low growling and roaring sound, as if a furnace were about to explode. Then, with a swish of wings, the dragon flew out of the cave and whirled round to face Perce. Quick as a flash, Perce turned his back on the dragon, and held up his little tin-lid mirror. “Dragon!” he cried, lifting his voice to the skies, “Dragon, I need your help.”
Even in his tiny mirror, Perce could see the Dragon hesitate. It had drawn back its head to strike him, to breathe a great burst of fire all over him and roast him to a cinder. But it paused at his words. “My help?” it roared, “You need my help? No one has ever before asked for my help!”
Perce waved his free arm to gesture down the mountainside toward the sea. “Well I need your help, Dragon,” he reiterated, “I need it badly. Together, you and I can help to send a very nasty and bullying piece of work packing. Are you up for it Dragon? Are you up for it?”
The dragon gazed long and hard at Perce, who held his breath. Would it eat him after all?
Finally the dragon lowered its terrible head.
“OK,” it roared in a lower tone, “Climb up!”
And then, to Perce’s intense relief, it lowered its neck, shutting its eyes, so that Perce could climb safely onto its scaly back.
“Lead on!” it hissed, “Lead on…”
Realistic
Perce sneaked slowly back to the dragon’s cave. He peeked in. The dragon lay on its side, curled like a huge, ungainly, scaly cat. Its regular breathing made the low snoring rumble he had heard. Every time it breathed out, a little wisp of smoke issued from its nostrils, and the occasional flame curled around its nose.
Along the edge of the cave was a sort of gully, lower than the rest. Perce crept in, and sneaked along this, keeping as close to the cave wall as he dared. He slowly made his way past the dragon’s head, and down its back and along the length of its spiny tail. Then he found a little nook in the wall and snuggled into it. The dragon’s breathing was regular and even, and it made the cave warm. Perce felt sleepy…
The dragon was talking to him.
“OK,” it said. “So you don’t like this King P. Does your mum like him?”
“No! I told you, she hates him!” said Perce angrily. “But she’s scared of him.”
The dragon let out a long, fiery, whistling breath full of smoke and ashes. “Well, being scared is neither here nor there,” it replied. “I’m often scared.”
Perce was astounded. “You’re scared!” he gasped. “Of what?” “Lots of things, actually, muttered the dragon, “creepy-crawlies mostly – spiders and mice and especially bats. I hate bats!”
Perce didn’t know what to say. He had never thought of a dragon being scared of anything!
“But being scared doesn’t matter,” went on the dragon, calmly. “It’s what you do that matters. You can’t let being scared stop you.”
Perce’s head was swimming. “You mean,” he hesitated, “you mean we should just tell him… just like that… tell him to get lost?”
“Well, if you don’t,” the dragon pointed out, “no one else will. And it doesn’t sound like you want him around. Help your mum to tell him to go away. She’s got to mean it! And she’s got to say it LOUDLY!” At this the dragon roared so loudly that Perce jumped.
“You don’t have to see the whole ladder to start climbing, you know,” muttered the dragon, “just the first rung.” And with that it unfolded its wings and flew gently, like a giant leaf, out of the cave into the early morning sunlight.
Perce sat up and rubbed his eyes. Had the dragon been real? Was it a dream? Or even a nightmare? Perce didn’t know, but he was sure about one thing.
He and his mum were going to tell King P to push off. This time it wouldn’t be them that flew away. This time the bully would have to leave. “Just the first rung…” he whispered, as he headed back down the mountainside toward the sea.