Saturday's Storyteller: "Persephone was my first and only love."
by Belinda Roddie
Persephone was my first and only love. Before Hades carried her off, I waited for her every day under the same olive tree, hair braided and hands folded in front of me like fresh parchment. The skin is crinkled and weathered now. I have never married.
Before Hades set his eyes on her, Persephone was as in love with me as I was in love with her. We held hands and danced in the never-ending greenery of the fields. We picked flowers and wove them into each other's hair and clothes. We were like silly schoolgirls, but the passion was real, and the touches we exchanged were warm. She was an extraordinary kisser. It was like drinking sparkling wine each time her lips met with mine.
I thought that perhaps, Persephone's status as the Lord of the Underworld's wife was something she resented. But in the end, it wasn't. Ultimately, her marriage made her grow up into someone entirely different, and I was left with the nostalgia, naivety, and rosy cheeks and pink buds behind my ears.
She visits me still, at the beginning of summer when she returns to her mother. We sit together in the Mediterranean heat, and I struggle not to kiss her on a whim. Persephone is still beautiful, but so very pale. She tells me that she'll never know what it's like to live in Demeter's winter. I tell her it's not worth visiting, anyway, and that the underworld probably looks similar.
"No," Persephone argues. "It's beautiful in my husband's kingdom. There are trees laden with fruit and lakes touched with a silver sheen. Are you hungry?"
She offers me a pomegranate. Every time.
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.
Persephone was my first and only love. Before Hades carried her off, I waited for her every day under the same olive tree, hair braided and hands folded in front of me like fresh parchment. The skin is crinkled and weathered now. I have never married.
Before Hades set his eyes on her, Persephone was as in love with me as I was in love with her. We held hands and danced in the never-ending greenery of the fields. We picked flowers and wove them into each other's hair and clothes. We were like silly schoolgirls, but the passion was real, and the touches we exchanged were warm. She was an extraordinary kisser. It was like drinking sparkling wine each time her lips met with mine.
I thought that perhaps, Persephone's status as the Lord of the Underworld's wife was something she resented. But in the end, it wasn't. Ultimately, her marriage made her grow up into someone entirely different, and I was left with the nostalgia, naivety, and rosy cheeks and pink buds behind my ears.
She visits me still, at the beginning of summer when she returns to her mother. We sit together in the Mediterranean heat, and I struggle not to kiss her on a whim. Persephone is still beautiful, but so very pale. She tells me that she'll never know what it's like to live in Demeter's winter. I tell her it's not worth visiting, anyway, and that the underworld probably looks similar.
"No," Persephone argues. "It's beautiful in my husband's kingdom. There are trees laden with fruit and lakes touched with a silver sheen. Are you hungry?"
She offers me a pomegranate. Every time.
This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.
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