Persephone Thesis: Creative Response

“May you be renewed in tranquillity and wisdom.”

The music came as a stab of sun, illusions of flowers splashing against the walls with every note squeezed from the harp. The echoes of hell were shaved away, tamed into the drabbles of a brook or the sea, and rock vaporised into the fresh damp of newly cut grass. Knuckles white and painful around the cruel arm of my throne I felt everything shatter again, the now familiar dark walls and stone melting away to grass and flowers and light, oh sweet light. Soft things, wet like tears. I let them fall, gritting my teeth against my tongue and ignoring the biting salty smell. I would not be seen to move, this man could not touch me, could not ruin what I’d rebuilt. I would destroy him first.

We had seen him coming. Nothing living entered here without notice. They were bright against the gloomy shades, we could smell their life as soon as the darkness enveloped them. It wasn’t something we needed to discuss; our answer had always been the same. Death was the end and you couldn’t go back, not the way you came. You broke down, your soul rotting down to its core, and whether you stayed in the gloomy realms of death or escaped into a new form, you had changed. Adapted. Rebuilt yourself. What you were had gone forever, transformed into a new life to be born again. It was only natural. He could plead for his wife all he liked, but it would do him little good. My lips spelt no.

“You may go.” My husband’s voice sounded broken and stiff, and he pretended he could not see my evil eyes. He broke the cycle, the way things were meant to be, just because of a few strains of song? “Just don’t look back.”

But they ran towards the light, Orpheus and Eurydice once more, I longed to call out and beg them to take me too.

- *-*-

It was never-ending night: A cave within a cave, a nightmare where I could run and never reach the end of the tunnel. Everything was hard, the heavy drapes that lined where windows should be, the embroidered blankets and rugs flung against the stone floors, and everything glinted with gold. Nothing was plain; everything either hemmed, embroidered or studded with metal and expensive stones. Cushions pushed against me when I sat, their riches digging into my back. I was surrounded by the musty smell of a room long forgotten. Trapped, and god, I couldn’t stop breathing. The doors were locked, except for a closet or two, and I’d tried, oh I’d tried. My shoulder ached from slamming against unforgiving oak and there was blood under the ripped tips of my nails. Cracks were starting to line my lips, a mixture of dry, stale air and constant dampening from my tongue taking its toll.

Time blurred. The torches never burnt out so I couldn’t tell if I’d been in there minutes or hours, and I lost count of the seconds. Slumped against the door, uncaring that my skirts were in disarray and dirty, I gave up. My breathing slowed, and my eyes shut. Even the ground felt different here, wherever I was; it lacked the pulse of the meadows and mountains of home. Not knowing was the worst part. Not knowing where I was, why I was here or even how I got here. The faint beating of hoof-falls still echoed in my ears, and large bruises mottled one of my arms, but otherwise... nothing. Someone had put me here, surely, but the name or face wasn’t coming. What on earth could they want of me? I already knew there was little I could do here, the absence of life was like a particularly unpleasant smell that lingered in the nose.

The scuff of feet shuffled past the door. A sharp wedge of fear slammed into my spine, jerking me straight, and the tension seeping into my limbs failed to tell me whether I wanted them to open the door or not. The sound passed.

Sewing, perhaps? I was a decent seamstress, Mother assured me of it. Really though, whoever had taken me away could have just asked. It was nothing, really. Why steal me? Yes, stealing was the correct word for it. Wrenched me from the earth and hauled me away like the flowers I’d crammed into my apron. Those were gone now too, lost. Mother would be worried.

Mother, Demeter, where was she? She was always everywhere and no-where whenever I needed her, why wasn’t she here now? I will never lose you, that’s what she used to say. We never spoke about what to do whenI lost myself.

- *-*-

We sat at a table designed for a hundred. Clustered up one end it looked as if we’d tip it over, our weight a heavy dot in this expansive room. Twin torches flicked tongues of light into the gloom, shaking in the dark as if frightened of the expansive space. There was no point in illuminating the rest, said Hades, it was a waste.

There was no glorious banquet laid out before us. A quintet of dishes sat unashamed in their simplicity, enough for two and no-more. There were rubies encrusted onto the plates, golden spoons, yet we sat in the cold and tried to hide our shivering from the other. My plate remained clean: I had no need to eat and I would not give him the satisfaction of my complacency. He made no mention of it, his gemstone eyes darting to my plate the only indication that he noticed my rebellion at all. Mother and I lived almost entirely off breads, grains and fruits. Berries, sometimes, and found things that required little preparation. In front of me was a small massacre. All four plates were crammed with dead animals, blood dressing and the occasional tuft of greenery meant to represent salad. It was heady, the fleshy smell clogging my nose and throat.

- *-*-

A high pitched squawk crept out of me. What...what was she? Her hair was short and curly, almost plastered to her head instead of hanging loose - and it was on her chin! Perhaps she was sick, that was my first thought, but no... she was so much taller than me, and larger than anyone I had seen before. All hard edges and lines, even the face seemed carved and solid where there should be gentle curves. Her limbs, two arms and legs with fingers and toes, were rippled like tree-branches, full of lumps that moved as she did

“Persephone.”

It took everything I had not to shriek. Whatever she was, she knew my name and her voice was the angry rumble of thunder and hail on the sea. Rough, like the gravel paths and stones. I hated it immediately, and my lip curled as the creature walked closer. Her steps were too big, too heavy and her toes logs with lichens growing on the knuckles. Elbows bulged like tree-knots from her large, firm arms peaking out from the film of hair that seemed to sprout from every pore. Everything about it was too wrong, too distorted to be a woman. It was too harsh, and hulked rather than walked towards me. I did shriek this time as it reached out with weighty limbs, and it paused, heavy brows furrowing.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What are you?” My voice scratched, raw with the dust. I must have looked a wild thing, hair pulled out of its bonds and in disarray, and even frightened as I was I could feel the skin around my eyes stretched wide, like a cornered animal. This wasn’t how mother taught me to react, but what else could I do? There was nowhere to run, hiding was useless in a locked room, so I lashed out. It seemed amused.

“My dear girl, I’m Hades.” There was sarcasm there, but It seemed bemused when I didn’t give whatever reaction It was looking for. “A man?”

He was mocking me, but I’d only realise this in hindsight. At that point I was reeling, in the midst of feeling awfully stupid. A man, male, opposite to woman and it made so much sense I was shocked I hadn’t put it together. Of course I knew what a male was, there were male and female animals we’d looked after back at home. I just didn’t expect him to look so strange, rough and hewn straight from the earth. Only a few parts of him seemed polished, his nails and eyes, and his teeth which glinted as he spoke.

“You weren’t joking.” He sounded surprised, and I shook my head quickly. The conversation lulled after that, both of us studying the other. Myself trying to stare into the pores of his face, if only to see where the hair broke through, and him, just staring.

”When am I going home?”

I would later think back on that question. Straight after it escaped my lips I knew the answer he was going to give, and my stomach shrank at the thought. To never leave this place, to never feel the heat of the sun and the soft grass between my toes again, the thought brought a strangled sob to my lips. It was not the pretty tears of the stories, my sobs were ragged and interrupted by gasps for breath, vain attempts to prevent water and mucus from running down my face. Eyelashes matting together, I could see Hades’ blurry form standing across the room, shifting and looking away as I wept. Perhaps my red face and snotty face would drive him away, I thought bitterly as another keen broke its way through my lips. Eyes puffy and swollen with crying, I knew I was not attractive like this. It mattered, though, and I tugged my apron over my face to hide it. He kept watching, I could feel it. Nothing happened for a few moments, the air silent aside from my occasional sob. Then he moved.

Despite standing in the middle of the room, it felt as though there was a wall a thousand feet high pressing into my back as he strode over, confidently nervous. At first I thought he was going to strike me for some unknown trespass, he was moving so fast and with such purpose, but instead his arms snapped around me and I felt hands that had to be made of the mountains themselves force their way into my hair. They caught, knotted, but this went ignored before his teeth were scraping against mine like nails on pumice, hard enough that I could feel it in my nose. Lips bruised and I felt copper against my tongue, and he leant over me as though he was bending me backwards like a dancer. My spine jerked, and everything smelt wet and hot as my mouth became numb.

And then I bit him.

- *-*-

The sky had been a brilliant blue, and the sea had echoed its colour. Freed from chores for the day and with the open fields before me, I’d have been happy to tumble through the brilliant flowers by myself, but to be with friends made it even better. We did what girls our age always do, gossiping and playing, picking flowers and arranging them into bursts of coordinated colours. The very air seemed to shimmer with our glee as we ran, free.

It came back to me later, just what had happened. The heavy embroidery of the blanket I was lying on bit at my back, cold.

Not content with the earth, my playmates had moved to the sea with their games. I’d never learnt to swim, Mother had a strong distrust of the water and refused to let me in anything larger than a bath, so I stayed on the shore, happily hurling bits of moss down at the girls and giggling at their shrieks. The sun was warm on my skin, and the cliff-top stones flat and gentle to lie on. I could have slept, lying there with the sound of laughter in my ears and the gulls wheeling overhead. Something kept me awake, a restless voice in my chest, and with one last wave to my friends below I returned to the fields.

Everything was still. I should have noticed the set up, but the idea of anything happening to me never entered my mind. So I ignored the lack of bird song, the absence of scurrying creatures and concentrated on the wind gushing through the grass. There was a bubble of joy in my belly, a simple appreciation of the beauty around me that could only be felt by one that had a hand in it. I could have died happy at that moment, picking flowers in the sunshine.

Why should I question the one lone poppy flower among the others, stray and vulnerable by itself? It was my mother’s favourite flower, and its deep red petals instantly caught my eye. We picked them often, Mother enjoying the deep red blooms and weaving them into crowns for our hair. Red, for rebirth. In fact, I don’t remember thinking about it at all, other than a vague recognition before I tore its stem and added it to my bouquet.

Then the mouth of the earth opened, gaping and toothy, and the sound of horses’ hooves deafened me. Rough hands grabbed at me, pulling me away, and then I was under the ground.

- *-*-

The gemstones stung as they pelted into my cheeks, my bare arms and left shadows of colour on my skin before they fell to the ground. Each hit with a sharp snap, punctuating the feral growling of the man who’d thrown them.

“What else do you want?” He spat, hard eyes forcing me back a step. My arms had wrapped around themselves protectively. Rage doubled his size, made him blend into the shadows despite the torches dancing around the room. Feeling exposed in the flickering gloom, all I could do was shake my head, eyes clamped shut. He was pacing, sandals slapping against the floor in a steady, angry rhythm. “Jewels, dresses, pretty trinkets. What else does a woman need?” Against my better judgement, I told him.

“Aside from that!” The pacing stopped, and I felt him move in front of me, smelt the sweat that was clinging to his brow. His fury was hot against my face as rough hands grabbed at it, yanking it up. Fearing he’d try and kiss me again, I opened my eyes. His were dark, angry and confused, in their own way. I clung to myself tighter, fearful of... something. There was no word for it yet. His breath was tart and stale.

“Any other man wouldn’t put up with this. Why are you making it so difficult?”

All I could do was stare, uncomprehending. There was something behind the words, they meant something important, but it was as if the stream of thought had been cut off before I could figure out what it meant. He had taken me already, what else did he want? I was here, quite against my will, why shouldn’t I be difficult? Then his hand had dropped and he’d moved away, the tension draining from both of us as he threw himself into his stone throne. The hard edges seemed to object to his presence.

“You’re impossible to talk to about this,” Anger had dribbled into grumbling, and his head had flopped to rest on his hand. “It’s like talking to a child.”

“I am a child.”

Hades snorted, his nostrils flaring a little, before he shook his head. “I suppose you are.” Then, “Is the idea of being my wife so horrible?”

“What’s a wife?” Apparently this was a stupid question, because he raised his bushy brows and looked down his nose at me.

“Demeter really was strict with you...”

“She was not!”The irritation from earlier made my hands clench. “She’s the best mother in the world, and if you say just one more thing about her, I’ll –“

“Alright, alright!” A subtle twist of the eyebrows gave Hades a pained look. “Let’s just not talk about your mother, shall we?”

My lip jutted into a pout. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“She wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand.” I replied smartly, still stung. “You expect things when I don’t know what you’re talking about, and then get angry when I say I don’t.”

It was stating the obvious, but something in either my words or tone seemed to move him. Just as I realised what I’d been saying, fear beginning to creep into my mind, he stood up. Silent, he crossed the room and passed right by me, not lifting a hand or even glancing in my direction as he moved towards the doors, leaving me in his wake. He paused though.

“Are you coming?”

I asked where, voice trembling.

“To show you your new home, of course.”

- *-*-

I could feel him withering at the doorway to hell and I was not sorry in the least. Orpheus was an idiot. You had your chance, I told him to myself. You loved her, but you didn’t trust her and... Rage wasn’t something I experienced very often, but it felt heavy and sticky behind my ribs now. It was an indulgence, like pudding drenched in syrup, and had settled into the smug assurance that I’d been right. The entire exercise had been fruitless.

“Why?” The beams of sunshine had long since faded. My voice could have cut stone, my back rigid against the throne as Hades moved to stand before me. He did not tremble at my anger, simply stood there and watched as I swallowed. “No-one ever leaves like that.”

I’d wanted to. Wanted to flee from this place, rescued and unchanged

He never replied, but his eyes were dark and watery so I let my anger subside. I wouldn’t let him explain and he didn’t even try to, and we avoided each other until nightfall. The short walk from my chambers to his was done more out of habit than desire, but his door was always open to me. He lay on top of me when we were done, as if I was going to try and run away from him.

The self-satisfied feeling drained away on seeing Eurydice’s tear-marred face. Don’t cry, you won’t be alone for long.

- *-*-

There was never any doubt who was entering the room. The maids, voices hushed, swore to me that the temperature always dropped a few degrees whenever Hades walked by. I couldn’t honestly agree with them, nodding with wide eyes to trade gossip, because I didn’t feel the chill. Even with my back to the door, the power of Hades’ presence felt more like a heavy pressure, and it left prickles on my skin. Power, that was another strange business. The bowing and scraping had frightened me at first – even though I was tied to the palace, I was treated as a guest rather than a prisoner – though now I had to confess that I’d become used to it. There was nothing like that at home, I took care of my own chores just as everyone else did. Never here.

Hades was here, though. At this stage what he did all day was a mystery to me, but it left him sallow and tired. Whatever it was must have been terribly difficult, but he always called in on me in the evenings. Did he want to talk about it? No, that was alright, but how was your day? My day was always uneventful. I was sure he didn’t really want to hear about it anyway, but it was a conversation we’d lapsed into. Today I was in the garden – the imitation garden, anyway, nothing was alive here other than me – fiddling with the dark reflections of plants out of habit more than anything. It was the last place he’d taken me during my tour of his palace. He’d displayed the building as though it was for sale, pointing out features that I might find particularly useful for everyday living. Things a guest wouldn’t need to know. The garden had been opened almost as an afterthought, but at my quiet gasp he promptly gave me the keys and declared it open to me at all times. It wasn’t as if it needed my care; glossy like statues, their colours were too bright in the gloom, lacking the subtlety nature provided. This one should have had rivulets of moss teaming down cracks in its bark, soft and supple like water, and another was missing the tell-tale signs of insects feasting on its wood. When they died the tree would, in turn, consume them. It wasn’t real growth, but a parody of it which left bushes the size of oaks and trees condensed into palm-sized ornaments. The next day they would change again, on a whim. Invisible walls held them at bay, manicured for beauty rather than practicality. Everything was always in flower. The entire charade was a cold comfort in the gloom of the underworld.

Busy tying back a branch, I didn’t realise he was behind me until his arms wrapped around my middle, almost double the length they needed to be to enfold me. My fingers bumped a few of the heavy, red balls of fruit as I pulled back, frowning. Hades had done nothing like on that first day, but he did insist on embracing me, touching me, stroking my hair. It left a lumpy, light feeling in my gut that confused me, so I said nothing. He’d been calm since I’d stopped lashing back, and why disturb the peace?

Though, his lips on my neck did bother me. Panic told me to slam my elbow back, get him off me, but I couldn’t begin to analyse why. Mother and I pecked each other’s cheeks in the mornings, when one or another of us left, Hades just left his lips longer on my skin and pressed heavier. I could see his shadow, stooped over me, and his eyelashes scraped across my skin.

“Come to my room tonight?” The dark flickering of the torch beat down on us, glinting red off the fruit trees and onto his hairy knuckles. He was speaking in code.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” My breath felt staggered, strained through a sieve.

“I’ll show you.” And he wouldn’t let me go.

- *-*-

I couldn’t decide what felt heavier, his arm thrown over my belly protectively as he snored into my shoulder, or the pressing feeling that I’d done something I wasn’t meant to. There was no guilt though, no sick feeling in my stomach that resembled regret. Just calm, a slight ache and a drowsy feeling that didn’t bother resisting as Hades tugged me closer. He mumbled something into my skin, soundless raspberries that left wet smudges.

“I want to go out there.”

His reply was negative, long-suffering.

“No... not that.” A scuffle with the sheets left me on my side, chin pressing against his forehead. His beard scratched at my neck. There was nowhere for those souls to go, no light in their eyes. It wasn’t natural to stay the same forever, to never move on and renew life. It was time to let go.

“We’ll go out later.”

- *-*-

The cold linen felt heavy on my skin. It was the same dress I’d worn yesterday, but it felt strange now. I hardly noticed the chill, and the once gloomy torches seemed bright against the dark stones. People were shades here, but even shades could gossip and while they stopped in respect as I passed, they did very little to hide their whispers. It didn’t mean much. They wouldn’t have opinions soon, and we would pass judgement on them as we saw fit.

I was free to walk now, explore as I chose though there had always been precious little to look at. There was no longer any threat in the drifting souls or other ghouls that dwelled in the shadows; nothing could touch me now that this circlet had nestled itself into my hair. The precious metal was encrusted with jewels, but it no longer weighed me down. I didn’t have the heart to tell Hades I found it ugly.

Queen still felt harsh against my tongue. The word was just another Hades had added to my list, but the implications were heavier than the circlet. I must have looked like the very stone thrones we sat on in court, cold and hard, pale, silent. The first day I said nothing, tried to ignore what was going on and stare at the wall. Snippets of horrors reached me, scenarios I could never have imagined and cruelty I never knew existed. It left me feeling hollow, faith in the world gone, and I could feel my new husband glancing at me towards the end. He asked me to be here, I thought crossly. If my cheeks were wet it was his fault.

Yet I came back the next day, silent and not protesting no matter how angry I’d been at him the night before. He seemed confused, and the souls dragged before us eyed me in wonder before their trials began. I liked to think he enjoyed me there, his hand creeping over between audiences to paw at mine in either affection or for strength, which it was I could never tell. Decisions formed in my mind, and it took a simple shake of the head in the appropriate direction to either send a man on and into paradise or to sentence him to eternal torture. Did he deserve bliss, and then another life? This is how the decision was presented to me. I had no concept of what torture was, just that it wasn’t happiness. Hades refused to explain it, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

The next case was announced, and I melded further into the throne, back straight and arms ridged on their rests. The details of the case, cold points of interest, were read through the room. The man before us quivered, sweating even in his translucent spirit form as the charges were read out. Murder, this one. I knew what that word meant, Hades had explained it to me as if it were nothing, before noticing my horrified face. It was after that he stopped explaining. Murder. The cutting off of one’s life before its time, an unnatural death. As if their poor victims were sacrificial animals. More was read out, about how the man’s daughter had been insulted and violated by the victim, but it failed to move me. It was still murder.

“He is condemned to – “

“He is condemned to Tarturus.” I cut Hades off. Pushing on despite the surprised stares, I looked down at the man. “For taking justice into his own hands and cutting off another man’s life, he is condemned to Tarturus until he can let go of his hatred.”

The room stagnated for a few minutes, the help unsure whether to fulfil my orders and the man stunned, mouth working with no sounds. Hades dipped his head and the spell was broken, the man screaming all at once and the help moving in to drag him away to his punishment. It was only once the doors closed and cut the screaming short that I felt my spine relax, and I let my eyes closed. My hands trembled against the arms of the throne, soft against the unforgiving stonework.

“I think that’s enough for now.” I didn’t bother to argue with Hades this time, letting him take my hand and lead me from the throne room.

- *-*-

I followed Hades out of the palace. There was nothing keeping me there except the vast fields of darkness surrounding us. From inside the palace, watching, I’d had no temptation to leave and trek through the fields of the dead. Outside now, though, there was none of the wailing and moaning I’d imagined. The Fields of Elysian were full of souls seen as worthy of staying in limbo, fair and just people who had lived their lives as such. They thronged here now, listless and uneasy, lost.

“Have they nowhere to go?” Hades didn’t have the time, he hardly left the throne-room where he sat, day after day, judging. I had yet to go in there during a session, was not sure I wanted to, but here, among the souls of the good, I found myself moved. My fingers passed through their shadowy flesh and their milky eyes watched as we, neither alive nor dead, passed through their masses. “They must return.”

Return from the earth to form new life, renewed. Even if Hades had refused, I would have moved further into their masses anyway. Fingers, soft like a child’s, dragged at my gown and arms as I moved past, not in threat but in wonderment at this light in the darkness. They were afraid. Peaceful, but afraid at being left in the dark for so long, alone in a crowd with nothing before them, and remembering nothing of the past. A loving swell bloomed in my chest as I found one, no different from the others, and pressed them to my breast.

“Move on.”

Time blurred. Perhaps Hades stayed, perhaps he left me in the tranquillity of the dead as they pressed around me, waiting for their time. Some I left, hovering towards the outside of the pack and disinterested in my presence, but many hung close, stagnant for too long and hungering to move on and above. Faceless, nameless, they were brimming with potency ready to be planted. They would shoot out roots, entwine themselves with the living and branch towards the sky now, beautiful. I was left behind, watching among the handfuls that were left. I could do this. The throne room, the pressure and the screams were beyond me but this was beauty. Beauty in the darkness, completely laid bare and then sent forth into the world to renew the cycle.

He asked if I enjoyed it. Reluctance to admit that yes, I had, stayed my tongue for a few moments before I nodded. There was no shame in admitting I’d enjoyed helping the innocent, and Hades did not gloat like I feared he might. Hand on my shoulder, he looked over my head to the now empty cavern and simply nodded, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me back to the glimmering lights of the palace.

- *-*-

“Your mother’s here” My husband’s voice was quiet. Again my back was to him, facing the pomegranate tree, and his presence did not match what he was saying; it had shrivelled, not docile but tameable with a choice word or two from my lips. They were sticky, my lips, stained red like those of a child who’s gotten into the wine, or the shirt of a drunkard who’d spilt. My nails felt bloated, scraps of flesh pressed beneath them plastering to my fingers.

There was a tang on my tongue that felt so deliciously wrong that it had to be good. My lips pursed as Hades ran his eyes over me, and I nodded. Let them make of this what they wanted; the glint in Hades’ eyes was strangely satisfying to me.

“I’d better go, then.”

He made no movement as I made to walk past him. It made me smile, his caution, and I stopped long enough to run my still sticky lips against his.

- *-*-

The sun still felt sharp to my eyes. Even in the shade of one of the exaggerated pillars here on Mt Olympus, the temperature felt sweltering and everything too bright. Mother said I’d get used to it, ‘back to normal’. I was never sure she was talking to me when she said that. They’d closed the door in front of me, she and father. It made me grit my teeth, to be shut out like that. Surely I should have a say in what I wanted, tell them what I’d done and what still needed to be done? It had been a week, and even that short amount of time left my stomach feeling heavy and my ears ringing with unguided souls. I was needed there. There were things I had to do, that I could do, and they left me standing out here as if it I didn’t know better!

Mother’s embrace had been a little too hard, her fingers a little too tight when I’d emerged from the darkness, shading my eyes and pale. I felt guilty for wanting her to let go, the dark rings under her eyes and crumples on her brow leaving little to the imagination. My muscles clenched at the thought. I should have felt worse; almost no thought of her had come to me as the weeks had turned into months down below. It turned my stomach on its head again, but my eyes stayed dry this time. My throat was clenched and sticky, fingers pressing against my palms so hard they left bruises, but there were no tears. Mother never noticed a thing, babbling on as a floodgate of words and emotions opened up. She was so, so happy. So bright, lit up as though her world was complete again and everything would be alright. She hadn’t changed. My bedroom felt like a stranger’s, full of flowers and pastels and pretty things that were only vaguely interesting now. It was too soft. The bed swallowed me as soon as I lay down.

“I just knew I’d find you.” My mother insisted, warm hands around my own. “ Nothing can keep me away from you. They’ll never take you away again, Hades has no claim. You didn’t eat anything, so we’re fine.”

Father’s voice rumbled through the door, making my teeth tremble. A man’s voice, so foreign to start with yet so comforting now. The door was shut tight to me, the only thing preventing me from running in and seeing my Father for the first time ever. Perhaps it was fortunate. My first impression on my sire should not be one of girlish tears and sobs, simply because he was the second man I’d ever seen and invariably reminded me of him. Oh Hades, I knew exactly how he’d look if he could hear my thoughts. The same slight smirk, the same twinkle in his eye when he’d caught me trying on the lavish gowns he’d bought me. When I’d joined him, of my own accord, for dice. When he’d caught me eating the pomegranate seeds. The taste splashed back with the thought.

“You didn’t eat anything... did you?”

Mother, you shouldn’t have screamed. It wasn’t Hades’ fault, and he was nothing like the obscenities you lashed at him . Would you say the same about me if you knew? I couldn’t bring myself to tell you how I felt, what I’d done. It would be so easy to just let them decide it all for me, but the thought grated. Living with the decision of another could become unbearable, barred from one world when the other needed me too. I’d tear apart, knowing what was needed of me but not being allowed to do it. I’d just break. It was enough to drive me through the doors and into the fray. Mother, crown of poppies a bloody streak through her hair, looked small against the giant throne of my father, dwarfed in this forest of columns and sculptures. The heavy materials repelled her, her voice a small ball ricocheting off the marble walls before stilling, out of breath. It was comforting to be out of the sun’s harsh stare, into the cool, pale cave, and even the sight of my father staring down at me couldn’t send me away.

”You ate the food of the dead.” Not a question, but I nodded anyway, holding my chin high. Mother’s stare was almost enough to burn, but inside, encased in rock once again, I was not ashamed. My father’s voice filled the room, a warm cloud that swelled until even the corners were filled with the sound. ”Then she must return.”

A flinch passed through me at Mother’s shriek, before I raised my own voice against hers, quiet but strong. ”I’m needed here.” My father’s brows knitted, and I pushed on. “But the souls down there... they need me too. I cannot just leave them there like before, they need to move on.”

I think she understood. I hoped she did. My father, however, almost seemed amused at the prospect. “Did you eat the entire pomegranate?”

- *-*-

I could hear the surf. The flowers scraped against my ankles while I moved through the fields. I didn’t see their colours, not looking down but up and out into the horizon where that thin shadowy strip peeped over the cliff’s edge under the sky. I was alone with the ocean’s roar, my companions gone with the setting sun. The fields were empty, no gaping chasms, completely flat ground as if nothing had happened there at all. At home, Mother prattled on like she had before, ignoring the changes and the inevitable. Why wasn’t there at least a hideous scar on the earth to show what had happened? A swelling in my chest made my teeth grind, and my fingers tore at the earth. With a shriek I threw the stones back at themselves, stamping on them until my breath came short and I stood, wretched, on the upturned soil. Where was Hades now, when he’d so willingly come and snatched me away before? The urge to scream at the soil, hurl abuse on it and his head was almost impossible to refuse but I stood, silent and red-cheeked and unheard. Birds sung their nightly chimes and the waves crashed behind me but otherwise, silence. I sucked in a shuddering breath, bringing my clean hand to my mouth and shutting my eyes. That sound, the mournful sound of the dead filled my ears, my nose, and my gut. I had to go.

Without realising it, my feet had moved from soft grass to craggy rocks, and the spray of water hit my face, salty, sticky. Nothing else seemed to move other than the waves and myself, them rhythmically pounding on the cliff-face and me, on the edge, waving in the breeze. I no longer felt compelled to cling to the rocks, sit at the edge and keep hold like the water would swallow me up if given the chance. With no urge to jump into the foam, I inched my way down the cliff-side. My sandals were hardly equipped for the job, slipping on the mosses and algae that swarmed over the lower rocks and almost sending me into the water. Finally I stood there, the ocean snipping at my toes and without a clue why I’d scrambled down there in the first place. The sounds were stronger then, half lost in the ocean’s roar but closer, more tangible. It wasn’t a hopeful twist of the imagination. For a split second I considered throwing myself into the water to see if that would somehow take me down into the depths of the earth, but this urge was checked.

I came across the cave purely by chance. There was no difference in sound or shape that I could see: one moment I was steadying myself against a solid wall of stone and the second, toppling toward into the darkness. Rocks snatched at the hem of my dress, ripping the linen and sending me staggering further into the gloom. Catching my balance, and my breath, I glanced back at the mouth of the cave. It’s rough edges like teeth against the failing light, water dribbled through the cracks to pool around my feet. The tide was rising, and it was too high for me to climb back now. The cave was slightly sunken, below sea-level, so water was only just starting to lap its way inside but still, it wouldn’t be long until the cavern was full. A dry swallow stuck in my throat as I tore my eyes away from the sunset. Perhaps the cave moved into higher ground, where I could stay until the water had passed. There was no way I could swim out, I couldn’t, and the current was too strong. Water nipping at my heels I scrambled through the uneven earth, my hands sliding on the still slick stones. I moved higher, I could feel it as the air grew more stagnant, the rocks less slimy and more jagged, away from the ocean’s weathering. There was no going back now, not until the tides turned. The thought brought no stabs of pain to my heart, left no panicked scrambling back towards the water where, if I waited, I could surely inch my way out of here and back into the open air. Instead I relaxed under the lapping noise, my arms slack at my sides as I watched blindly. What harm was there in moving further inside? I could keep my hand on the wall, solid, and not become lost, and it would keep the time moving.

It wasn’t the dark of night. The earth had swallowed me whole and as I descended, I realised that it would not become lighter as I went on. There was no forgiving shaft to the world above, nothing alive and I began to wonder when I would hit the end of this natural cavern and be forced to admit defeat, to turn back to the water. I expected nothing.

Which is likely why my heart almost stopped when I heard movement in front of me. There must have been a curve in the tunnel because when the light came, it was in a crescent moon hitting the side of the rocks. There was no end, then. His face was sharper by the single torch, nose seeming to shrink back into his skull with the shadows. Even in the poor light I could see his eyes had sunken further, sleepless, but his face still split in half. Pearly white teeth glinted at me.

“You chose the long way home.”