A tale of rapture, choices and love, set in the 1970s in the Peloponnese. The tale of a delightful young woman, a woman of flowy dresses and striking smiles, a youthful ingénue, who radiates happiness.
And there was she, as beautiful as fresh dew on a blooming rose, locks as golden as a field of wheat on a summer morning of harvest. Lips as red and tender as those of an infant. Persephone, as she was named, maiden of striking beauty, able to turn heads of anyone who dared look her way, but never she was troubled by any of those who admired her, as she was only preoccupied by her readings. She had no companion, and never desired any, but her books which she carried around religiously, and enjoyed holding on her lap during summer afternoons, sitting on the grass, listening to the sounds of nature. Her love of nature came from none but her mother Demeter; and as anyone else who crossed her path, her mother was exceptionally fond of her, rarely leaving her side, and Demeter spent hours by her only daughter’s side, observing plants as she was a fervent botanist, her love for plants equaled none but her daughter’s fondness over her friends of ink and paper.
One day, as of many days, Persephone was laying on the fresh grass, surrounded by daisies her mother liked to care for, enjoying the view the miniscule wild life cared to offer her. She rose; as her glance caught the flight of a blue monarch, she took a few steps towards the beautiful creature, her small delicate fingers reaching out, desperate to meet the butterfly’s whimsical wings, and soon enough she wandered away from her mother. Persephone kept walking, only thinking about the beautiful flying creature which was luring her away, away from the green grass, away from the white daisies, away from her mother, her mother who didn’t even notice the absence of Persephone, as she was mesmerized by her surroundings, as she was studying her flowers.
Soon enough the warm afternoon turned into dusk, and Demeter, as distracted as she was; had no idea that her lovely flaxen daughter Persephone was gone, and would be nowhere to be found.
The moments flew by, and Demeter finally awoke from the slumber that forced itself upon her, and no matter how loud she called, how far she walked, or hard she looked. The child was gone.
The hours turned into days, into nights, into weeks, and Demeter still called for her precious daughter. The times became cruel to she who once was so full of life, fleeing, pouring away from between her knuckles the same way dry sand would, knuckles she flooded with her restless tears, and she wept. She wept for days on end, torrents, the gap her daughter left set hazy clouds upon her soul, veiling away all of her joyfulness, wiping away any thoughts of content. Restless was the poor childless mother.
And Persephone was nowhere to be found.
Every second felt heavy on the poor mother’s heart, every second she spent looking for Persephone, crying out for help, seeking for every bit of information that will lead her to her daughter, resolving to grieve the loss of her child that just seemed to have vanished into the night.
Life which was once so joyful and pleasing had become dark, unsustainable, unpleasing, unbearable. Everything lost its taste, its flavor. A darkness filled the void the daughter had left behind, leaving the mother feeling empty, but at the same time filled with melancholy. Sorrow took upon Demeter’s soul, strangling her with its bony deadly hands, gripping her throat, extorting every single happy thought that was left inside her, drawing away every little spark from her now amaurotic eyes. The enjoyment she once found in the smallest things were now gone, she didn’t even care to rest, to bathe, to feed herself even, as she kept wandering hopelessly, looking for her happiness that had left, everything was gone, gone like her child, gone like Persephone.
Another person’s mind was solely preoccupied with Persephone; a tall dark man who once dared look her way, and was taken away by her beauty and grace beyond the point of turning back. A man who was no stranger. But a man who was battling with his own demons. A man who found himself drawn to the luminous maiden, as many others always seemed to be. A man who was no stranger to Demeter’s grief, as he himself was trapped in a world of darkness, he was no stranger to the person of Demeter either, as a bond of blood strongly tied them together, for he happened to be her brother Hades.
Hades was undeniably different from his sister, as much as she enjoyed the outdoors and blossomed in a world of light, he was shutting himself down, keeping himself from the outside world, reigning over a world which was inhabited by bodiless souls and which took over his mind, constantly conversing with him, but their whispers were shut down when the image of Persephone came along, overpowering everything else that could have been preoccupying him, such a powerful beam of light coming from such a small defenseless creature, bringing back hope to his tortured mind, bringing love back to his wounded heart.
Persephone not only wandered in Hades’ mind. She also wandered in his home. She was his captive. He wanted her to be his, and his only, crowning her as the queen of his world, revolving his tormented life around her, worshiping her beauty, glorifying and admiring her grace.
And the same way days passed for Demeter, taking away her happiness bits by bits, as she was restlessly looking for her daughter, time felt like it had stopped for Persephone, and soon enough her bright solar beautiful person dulled down, no matter how much Hades showered her in affection, in love and in devotion, she could not take her mind off of her poor mother, her poor restless mother who was certainly losing her mind over her, and she kept waiting for her to come and save her. Hades could not help but feel devastated at the sight of the delicate flower he dared pluck away and keep hidden, treasured away in his world, the flower who was wilting down, a rare flower that only bloomed in the open, only releasing her flourishing blossom to the sun, only thrived and burgeoned when surrounded by the viridescent fields. Hades was desperate, his heart was tormented, voices whispered restlessly, he needed freeing her.
But how could he let go of his beloved? How could he enfranchise his rare flower? And at the same time how could he let it slowly wilt?
Hades tried to reignite the dying spark in Persephone’s eyes, he kept offering her all what he saw as precious, pathetic attempts, as she only desired to be set free, and no potions, no elixir, no philter had the power to draw back the solar beam he had surrendered to, the liveliness he got infatuated with.
And he decided to let her wander back into her world.
And never again recover the joy she had brought into his world?
He could not resolve to that, and so, before he could let her walk back the earth, he dared give her one of what he pleased to call his “happy pills”, those on which he relied on for many years, which turned the whispers into faint memories, which he often gave Persephone as an attempt to make her forget about her own world and accept his as her kingdom. Hades dared hope the wheat flaxen haired child would want to get back to him.
And Persephone walked back the earth, she let her skin be caressed by the warm rays of sun, she let her golden locks gently float in the fresh breeze, her delicate fingers graze the fresh grass. She walked until she recognized familiar voice that called for her name, a familiar figure that marched towards her, that restlessly sought her and that was wrecked by despair, and consumed by sorrow. An embrace. And days of woe were soon brushed away. Or so Demeter thought, as her child seemed like she changed. The joyful careless child was no more, and she found herself confronting a woman, a woman that had worries and doubts, and who seemed discontent with their reunion.
Persephone no longer enjoyed the company of her books, and spent hours staring blankly at the horizon, breathing away aching sighs.
Could she possibly want to leave her again?
A confrontation, misunderstanding then resignation. A pill met the rose lips, and Persephone was transported back into a world she ended up longing for.
She knew that by swallowing the drug, she had agreed to her return back into his arms. No matter how wrong it seemed to her mother, and how much she did not want to displease her, she knew that she no longer belonged by her side.
That world that adopted her, that sheltered her, and surrendered to her was what she called home, and that man who cherished her as rightfully as his tormented soul has allowed him to, that man who was none but her uncle, that illegitimate bond that so strongly joined them was what she saw as her faith, her deserved present and future.
And so she returned back into her world, a world she learned to tame, a world she shared with Hades, and where she believed she belonged.
But vapes of sorrow came back to blur the feeling of content that Persephone struggled to achieve. And she couldn’t help but think of what she had left behind. Her mind kept wandering back into times of nostalgia. Times when life was simpler, and times where no choices were to be made.
At times like these, Persephone desired to return to her mother’s, but as soon as she thought about leaving, she remembered how miserable she was being away from Hades. At times like these, balance was to be found.
And Persephone’s life was rhythmed by the visits she made to both worlds, a rhythm that soon became unsustainable, hectic. And the balance that she once found by joining her homes faded away, leaving her in distress, as the poor daughter of Demeter couldn’t reconcile between these worlds. Demeter never forgave the rapture of Persephone and Hades was never able to live through her absences. Spleen soon took over moments of happiness and the golden haired maiden started to lose control over herself. Neither her lover, nor her mother were able to bring her joy nor satisfaction, and again, choices were to be made.
And a choice was made, probably the hardest of all, certainly the most painful of all. And the flaxen maid was no more.
Persephone was gone, and she dragged all the grace she had brought into her beloved’s life, setting back his world into the darkness, she had left nothing but bittersweet memories, but a faint spark into the soul of those who loved her, but a tale of rapture and forbidden love to be told.