The Gryphon
Anastasia Griffin, top international model, sets her table for two in her Paris apartment. She’s tall with wavy brown hair and dark brown almond shaped eyes. Her face is heart shaped with rounded features and she has a well toned body with a light bronze skin tone. She looks up at the clock, ‘Almost eight o’clock, he should be here by now. Well, Paris is more crowded then it use to be. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.
This past year has been the hardest on my modeling career. I never thought anything could be more important to me than my work. I’ve always had a reputation for extreme sports. You name it, I did it, rock climbing, scuba diving, white water rafting, paintball safari. However, I never missed a shoot or a show until this year. Everyone thinks this is all about Gwen. I guess it is, but not the way they think.
There’s a knock at the door, ‘He’s here. I hope I’m ready for this.’ Stasia nervously goes to the door, takes a deep breath. She opens the door with a smile, “Bonjour, Andrew.” Standing at the door is a middle-aged man. He is dressed well and his hair is in tight fade with copious amounts of gel arranging the sparse strands on top in attempt to hide his impending baldness.
He enters, “I got your text.” his entire demeanor expresses his restrained anger. He looks around at the apartment almost surprised by its cleanliness. “What is this all about?”
Stasia evasively replies, “I picked up some le pain Poi lane today would you care for some? I…”
Andrew cuts her off, “Three months, Stasia! I have been worried sick about you! I haven’t heard from you. I have called everyone! Photographers, designers, the other models, and no one had heard from you. Your assistant said you had her cancel all your modeling gigs and then you sent her on a paid leave of absence…”
“Andrew, please…”
“Don’t ‘Andrew, please’ me! I deserve an explanation.”
“That’s why I asked you here…”
“What is it? Are you burnt out? Tired of fame and success? Or is it me? Do you want a different agent? Is that why you have kept me out?”
“Please, you have been like a father to me…”
“Here we go, stroke the old queens ego with father references.”
“Andrew! I’m trying to explain what’s going on! This is not going to be a short or easy conversation. Would you please go into the kitchen and grab the 1996 La Mondotte. I’ll get the glasses.” After a few minutes they sit down at the table and pour the wine. Stasia touches the older man’s hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” Andrew waits with concerned intrigue. “Do you remember that photo shoot in Iraq four years ago?” Andrew thinks quietly for a moment and then looks up with a puzzled ‘what-made-you-think-of-that’ look on his face.
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Four years ago…
“Where are we going?” Stasia shouts over the sound of the helicopter.
“Nippur. It was an ancient Mesopotamian city southeast of Babylon.” Andrew was always a history-buff and loved these exotic locals.
“OH! Is that in Egypt?” Gisele shouts from the back row.
Stasia turns with a smile, “No honey, Babylon is in southeastern Iraq. They have made amazing discoveries there. I’ll let you borrow my National Geographic.” Gisele smiles back, she knew anyone else would have talked down to her and made her feel stupid but Stasia wasn’t like the other models. Stasia turns back, “Andrew, what is the location and what are we shooting?”
“A new summer line from Loewe,” Andrew fumbles with his palm pilot then looks up again, “The archeologists have found a ziggurat for Enlil the Sumerian storm god. We will feature you around the ruins. Real Indian Jones stuff.”
Three days later the shoot was over. The Iraqi laborers were given a long weekend to prevent them from being upset about the barely dressed American women. Meanwhile, the British archeological team enjoyed the change of scenery. As at the end of most big shoots the models had a party. It wasn’t very large of course, 6 models, Andrew, 4 stuffy old archeologists and their 8 graduate students. Stasia hit it off with one of the grad students and took him out to the dig site to fool around. While they were out there they ran out of champagne and the now very drunk young scientist left to bring back more. He had been gone awhile when Stasia decided to return by herself.
She got turned around in the dark mostly due to the large amounts of champagne. She stumbled into a huge semi underground chamber. The chamber entrance had statues of two enormous creatures each with the head, wings, and forelegs of an eagle and the tail and hindquarters of a lion. She had not seen this area of the dig before. While stumbling in the dark she slipped and her hand was cut on a jagged rock. Despite her efforts her hand bled a lot! As her blood splatter on the floor, the darkened temple began to illuminate with a strange blue light. As the temple grew brighter, she could see statues, cravings, and paintings of a the Sumerian storm god and his strange part eagle and part lion guardians.
Suddenly, the lights in the temple dimmed and a single beam of light shots forth from the altar. The beam animated an image of a Middle Eastern man in a turban, with a tightly braided long beard, wearing overlapping plate body armor, and a pair of enormous wings; it was the Sumerian storm god, Enlil. The image began to move and speak almost like a hologram. Stasia felt she heard more of the message in her head then by her ears. It spoke in what sounded Aramaic. Stasia could not understand a word of it. She tried to remember some of the words but it was hard to concentrate with the intoxication and exhaustion working against her. She passed out and awoke the next morning in her in her motor home. Andrew exploded into the motor home ranting about irresponsibility, scorpions, and of course his typical “I’m going to have a nervous breakdown” speech.
She thought, “Ah, Andrew’s post party/pre departure anxiety attack, just what my hang over needed.”
5 days of planes, trains, and automobiles and she is back in her Paris apartment. She’s ready for the first night in a bed since she left Iraq. Soon as her head hits her Scandia Down pillows she is asleep.
The worst pain she has ever been in! Stasia was sound asleep, now she is on the floor on her hands and knees, back arched towards the ceiling, being racked with pain. She can hear her Julianna Rae chemise being ripped apart! She looks over at the her full length standing mirror to see her back is a bloody mess as a pair of white feathered wings slowly and painfully bud from her back. Her fingernails crack, split, and fall off as bird like talons burst forth on each finger. Her legs become covered in tough yellowish tan fur. She watches in the mirror as the muscles on her body enlarge and become more defined. Her face is unchanged except her hair has doubled in length almost instantaneously. With the transformation complete, the pain begins to subside, Stasia stands in front the mirror staring at the creature she has become and the words of Enlil return to her memory as clear as crystal.
“I am Enlil. My time in this world is over. I bestow my final gift to the descendent of my high priest Akkad Ku-Baba. You who have sought my temple even after my entrance to the underworld, I give to you the power of my greatest creation. Though this power is yours to possess, it is not for you alone. I give this to you as a weapon to fight injustice, to defend the weak, and to punish wicked. This is my last act of kindness to this my once beloved world. With the strength of the Gryphon, no evil will escape your judgment! Ma'a Salama, child of Akkad Ku-Baba.”
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Andrew, deep into his third glass and pouring a refill, “What happened then?”
“Well, I freaked. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it and didn’t know what to do with it. I…”
“Wait! You’re telling me you are The Gryphon! You have been Paris’ mysterious defender that has been all over the cover of Le Monde for months?”
“Well, I…”
“That was you on the news that almost died breaking up that human trafficking ring in Luxembourg last week?” Andrew looks panicked. Stasia cuts her eyes to the left and down with a blush of embarrassment. Andrew puts his head in his hands, “I think I’m going to be sick!”
“I’m helping people, really helping people. I think I’m going to go full time with this.” Her old mentor, the veteran of the fashion world, sits unresponsive with worry. “Andrew, look at this.” Stasia pulls an invitation out of a tiny purse on the table. “It’s from the Justice League. I’m to be at their Los Angeles embassy by Saturday and I want you to come with me. Andrew… I need your help.”
Andrew smiles and nods, “Ok… but I’m not wearing tights.”
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