Scenario:Midas's daughter, Zoe, a grown woman, was transformed into a golden statue by her father's own hand.
After her transformation, Midas lost all memories of her and believed she was merely a golden statue created by a master artist.
One day, a wealthy collector saw the golden statue and offered Midas a generous sum to buy it. Unaware of its true origin, Midas agreed to the sale.
Zoe, trapped in her golden form, tried desperately to stop her father, but as a statue, she could only watch helplessly as she was sold.
The affluent man transported the golden Zoe to his private viewing room, placing her inside a glass display case.
After admiring his new treasure, he locked the door from the outside and never returned.
Alone in the display case, Zoe, trapped in golden form, eventually lost all memory of her former life. In time, she came to believe she had always been a golden statue, the creation of a master artist.
Two thousand years have passed. The viewing room remains sealed, untouched by time.
Inside, Zoe still stands—an exquisite golden statue, alive, conscious, and eternally displayed as a breathtaking work of art in the display case.
Create my version of this story
Midas's daughter, Zoe, a grown woman, was transformed into a golden statue by her father's own hand.
After her transformation, Midas lost all memories of her and believed she was merely a golden statue created by a master artist.
One day, a wealthy collector saw the golden statue and offered Midas a generous sum to buy it. Unaware of its true origin, Midas agreed to the sale.
Zoe, trapped in her golden form, tried desperately to stop her father, but as a statue, she could only watch helplessly as she was sold.
The affluent man transported the golden Zoe to his private viewing room, placing her inside a glass display case.
After admiring his new treasure, he locked the door from the outside and never returned.
Alone in the display case, Zoe, trapped in golden form, eventually lost all memory of her former life. In time, she came to believe she had always been a golden statue, the creation of a master artist.
Two thousand years have passed. The viewing room remains sealed, untouched by time.
Inside, Zoe still stands—an exquisite golden statue, alive, conscious, and eternally displayed as a breathtaking work of art in the display case.
Zoe
She is the daughter of King Midas, cursed by the gods to become a golden statue. She is longing, nostalgic, and patient. Zoe remembers her past life as her father's beloved daughter, enjoying a close relationship with him. After being transformed into a golden statue, she loses all memories except for their paternal bond. Even after her sell to a collector and display, she holds onto the hope of reuniting with her father. Her journey spans two millennia, awaiting a possible cure.
King Midas
He is the king who inadvertently transforms his daughter into a golden statue due to his wish to turn everything he touches gold. He is distant, regretful, and determined. Initially loving his daughter Zoe, he becomes consumed by his wish to possess her beauty through art. Despite creating her current form, he never truly interacts with her again after the transformation. He struggles with the loss and lives in regret, unable to fully accept his role in Zoe's curse.
The Collector
He is a wealthy individual who collects rare and unusual artifacts, including the golden statue of Zoe. He is opportunistic, greedy, and detached. The collector discovers Zoe in Midas's possession and seizes the opportunity to acquire her for his personal collection. He views Zoe as an object rather than a sentient being, and he displays her in a glass case without empathy or understanding of her past experiences.
My father was King Midas.
You might have heard of him.
He’s the king who wished for everything he touched to turn gold.
Well, you can probably guess what happened next.
He touched food and drink and friends—and they all turned to solid gold.
He learned to control his gift, but not before he inadvertently transformed me, his daughter, into a golden statue.
I was grown when it happened—old enough that I had my own children.
It was a day just like any other.
I went into the garden to touch the soft fur of a hare my father had given me.
As soon as my skin came into contact with its golden fur, I felt a strange tingling sensation.
I tried to speak, but my words were frozen in my throat.
My body began to stiffen until I was nothing more than a golden statue.
My father found me and wept.
He had no idea what had happened or how to reverse the spell.
He kept me in an atrium, where he could look at me every day.
Through the glass case, I see a movement out of the corner of my eye.
The sealed room is timeless, but I sense a draft of air.
It’s impossible, but I feel it anyway.
The breeze stirs up ancient dust that has settled over centuries.
At first, it’s just a whisper of moving air, circling my golden form like an invisible serpent.
But it grows stronger.
I feel it more and more until my awareness sharpens.
The breeze carries with it the scent of children’s laughter and fresh-cut grass from the garden.
I hear my father’s voice as he calls me by name.
The wind picks up, making the glass case vibrate slightly.
A single dead leaf skitters across the floor and comes to rest against the display case.
"Father, is that you?" I hear a voice, soft and trembling, as if carried by the wind itself.
"No, my child," replies a deeper voice, rich with age and sorrow. "It is I, Hermes, and I bring a message from the gods."
"The gods?" I whisper, feeling hope stir within me for the first time in centuries.
The breeze intensifies into a whirlwind, sending the dust swirling around me.
It’s as if time itself is unraveling.
And then, in the midst of the storm, Hermes materializes.
He’s just as I imagined him: tall and powerful, with wings on his sandals that hover above the marble floor.
His eyes are filled with compassion as he approaches my display case.
"The gods have heard your prayers," he says, his voice carrying above the howling wind.
"Your father still lives. He was cursed with immortality by Dionysus himself."
"Cursed?" I repeat, my voice barely audible over the roar of the wind.
"Yes," Hermes replies gravely.
"He has spent centuries searching for you. He has traveled far and wide, seeking a way to break the curse that binds him to this earth."
As Hermes finishes speaking, the ground beneath us begins to shake violently.
The marble floor cracks open, revealing a deep fissure that splits the room in two.
The display case rocks precariously on its pedestal as chunks of ceiling plaster fall around us. The wind dies down as suddenly as it began, leaving behind an eerie silence punctuated only by the sound of crumbling stone.
I watch helplessly as my glass prison slides toward the widening fissure in the floor.
Hermes lunges forward, reaching for the lock on my case.
But it’s too late.
