Persephone Reimagined: Chapter 1

I started writing Persephone as a side project several years ago. Life, as usual got busy, and this book got put on a shelf where it’s gathered more than its share of dust. So, I’m starting over. I may keep a little of the first draft, I may not. Either way, it should be fun. I hope you’ll enjoy reading along as I write!

CHAPTER 1
PERSEPHONE

I didn’t exactly hate my life. It was beautiful. Well, that was my job, at least. As the daughter of Demeter, goddess of cultivation itself, what else was I supposed to do? Mother was responsible for everything that grew upon the earth. The bounty of the harvest. The goodness of the… Well, you get the idea. She literally kept everyone alive. Food, clothing, shelter… They all came from her. And her daughter? I, uh… grew flowers. That’s about it. My job description was pretty much to dance around, look beautiful, and make everything around me beautiful too. It wasn’t the worst job in the world. Beauty is a pretty nice thing, and I did enjoy creating new flower. And there was nothing like the feeling of seeing a face light up at the bright colors or aroma of one of my creations, especially if that face was Mother’s.

I didn’t have much responsibility, but, for as long as I could remember, all I wanted was to make her proud of me. To feel like I was actually a god worth something. To be trusted with an actual purpose.

I toiled over (and by that, I mean danced and sang over) a tree.(Don’t laugh. It’s all I can do, okay?) My melody called forth light pink, almost white blossoms, which spread across the boughs like mist. The blossoms turned a shade darker as bees began to swarm. I gasped as, petal by petal, the flowers fell apart and the buds swelled, transforming into bright red fruit.

I plucked one from the branch and took a cautious bite. The juice from the white flesh was absolutely luscious.

I rushed to Mother. Though it was not the first time I had created a blossom that bore fruit, this was by far my best. Maybe this was it. Maybe I was becoming a goddess of harvest as well. Perhaps men would also depend on my gifts to sustain them.

Mother stood looking over a plant with a frown and muttering to herself. My mother’s long, curly hair was mirror of my own, but where she bore a crown of golden wheat stalks, which was nearly invisible next to her blond hair, I tended to weave bright garlands of flowers into mine. 

“Mother,” I exclaimed as I skipped. I flung my arms around her and we both laughed.

“Kore,” she smiled. “What has you so jubilant, my daughter?”

“You must taste this.” I offered.

She took the fruit and examined it was a critical eye. “Beautiful shape. Not bad.” She turned it over in her hand. “What will you call it?”

“Apple,” I replied breathlessly.

“That suits it,” she said, and raised it to her mouth. “The taste is pleasant.”

I beamed.

“Perhaps a bit tart but sweet enough. But the color…” She tisked. “Not quite right. Have you considered a different hue?”

“I… No. Not yet,” I said. “Perhaps a green or yellow?”

She shook her head. “It’s good you brought this to me. There is much potential in this. It could well be a favorite of mortals and immortals alike.”

I stood taller.

She began to walk toward her chariot without looking at me. “Such a decision requires wisdom and experience. I will ponder on this further.”

My shoulders slumped.

I reached out to the dragons as we approached, scales warm beneath my hand. Smoke curled from their contented noses as they lie, but their drowsy eyes blinked as they rose their heads to us. Their movement rocked the chariot as they stretched.

 “Brown or gold would be best, I think,” she nodded.

The apple was thrust into my hands as she stepped up, and grasped the reins.

“Where are we going,” I asked.

“I must inspect the harvest to the southwest,” she said. “I don’t like what I’m seeing here. It seems I have more work to do.”

“I could help,” I offered in a small voice, flinching before she spoke the words I knew would come.

“Not this time, my precious Kore.” She said it lightly, but my heart was anything but. “This work is beyond you. Besides, I would not have you exposed to the filth that is men.”

I sat beside her, seated in silence as the dragon-drawn chariot moved.
“Will it be cousin Artemis or nymphs babysitting me this time?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Don’t be like that, my dear,” Mother laughed. “You love nymphs, especially the Oceanids.”

“But Artemis is always so serious,” I grumbled.

Seriously, Artemis was the worst. She was almost as much of a prison keeper as my mother. At least if there were nymphs around, I could count on some fun: interesting stories, music, perhaps some gossip… All Artemis ever did was run, hunt, and preach the evils of the entire male sex.

Throughout my life, I’d spent hours on end with naiads and dryads in their forests. Despite my mother’s wishes, I’d heard vague tales of my relatives. If it had been up to Mother, I would have known very little of them. However, since many of my days were spend amongst the gossiping nymphs, I had learned a great deal about my heritage.

I knew of the pairing of earth and sky that brought forth the Titans, of the war through which the Olympians, my mother included, had come into power, of the scandalous pursuits of my own father, Zeus, the continuous sparring between the gods, and the pathetically piteous existence of the race known as mortal men.

New tales of intrigue fell daily upon my ears. Left safely in their groves, I listened half-heartedly. The latest gossip was, yet again, about one of my father’s lovers. I listened as I swayed, painting wildflowers.

“Zeus heard his wife coming and turned Io into a cow! Of all things, a cow! Can you imagine?” The naiad giggled with her sisters as they languished in the cool stream’s clear water. “Not to be fooled, the queen convinced him to give her the cow as a gift!”

“No!” Another exclaimed.

“That’s not the least of it either,” the first continued. “The queen set a gadfly to chase her. With no respite, she was nearly taken mad, tormented clean out of her mind. And that silly cow ran all the way to Egypt!”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Would Zeus never learn?

Satisfied with one flower, I moved to the next pale green one. Cupping it in my hands, I blew gently upon it until color blossomed from its core to petals’ edge.

These ones will be white, like the Io the cow. I smiled to myself. Despite the foolishness, I found myself taken with these romances.

I shivered. Hera, my father’s wife and queen of the gods, was not only notoriously jealous, but infamously cruel. If not for Mother’s great power, what would have become of us? I tried not to wonder.

Zeus had never dared visit nor show favoritism toward me, for fear of rekindling Hera’s wrath. At least, that was what Mother said. But I suspected Mother’s dislike of my father kept him at bay more than his wife.

I could not approve of my father’s antics, but I still felt a connection to him. I often wondered what romantic love was like. I felt deep love for Mother, my friends, the earth, and even Artemis, but that love seemed to pale next to the tales I’d heard. Why else would anyone leave their parents to live with another? Or poets sing of it? Why else would my father roam the world seeking it out? The nymphs reveled in it. Such love….

Soon, music of the water and tree spirits filled the air, and I danced with them. Though the stories and dreams of romance kept the sadness at bay for a time, I felt it creeping back again.

I was determined to put everything out of my mind. I tried to think of the white cow. Of gods who were perhaps even more silly than I. That I was not a goddess powerful enough to matter. That I could not be trusted with even the simplest task. That I would never be enough to please my mother.

The more I tried to forget these thoughts, the faster I leapt and spun about. My song joined theirs in a furious counterpoint. The world was a blur, yet I twirled faster. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Then, I hit a wall.

But, there are no walls in the forest.

The soft ground cushioned my fall, and I blinked.

A man stood before me. Large and beautiful, he looked at me curiously, and extended a hand.

Leery, I ignored the gesture and got to my feet.
The song had died. A hush filled the air.

The man looked at me, but he was no man. Though I had never met one, I knew no mortal had such a countenance. This was a god.

He looked at me curiously. “Such a pretty thing. What is your name, child?”

Brushing myself off, I turned away fuming. I was no child. How dare he.

Then, I spotted them. They were all around me. Had he seen them? He had to have… And yet, he said nothing. Did not even glance at a single one of the drab, grey flowers dotting the ground where I’d danced.

I ran. Toward the stream, safely away from my shame. Towards friends, and laughter, and music, and song.

But it was gone. All the nymphs had hidden, as I wished I could.

“Who are you,” he asked, beside me again. His smile was warm and eager.

I would not be taken in. Mother and cousin Artemis had warned me too many times about males. Gods, especially, could not be trusted.

I stood as straight and regal as I could manage, but the absence of babbling nymphs was unsettling. I kept my eyes from staring behind him at the pathetic, ragged flowers that should not have been.

Though the sun was at his back, light illuminated his handsome and kind face. He rested his ease upon a mossy rock, near the bank, and twittering naiads reappeared. They pushed and crowded to sit at his feet.

My friends seemed acquainted with him. I tried to relax a bit, though my fluttering stomach protested.

“I am Persephone Kore, daughter of Demeter,” I answered boldly.

A sparkling glint shone in his eyes, and he ran his hand over his curly hair. “I see,” he said. “And who, may I ask, is your father, Persephone Kore, daughter of Demeter?”

Did he mock me? It irked that he was not impressed by Mother’s name. But, surely, he would tremble at the name of my father.

“Lord Zeus, king of Olympus,” I replied defiantly.

The nymphs’ shocked hush reminded me that such a loud declaration could bring the attention of a god or goddess upon me. But I did not waver. It was the right of a daughter to invoke her father’s name. I was a goddess, daughter of the king. No one, even the queen, dared threaten me.

I hoped.

A quiet smile played upon his face, though he was silent. He reached out and examined the pure, white flower that Io had inspired.

“You are your mother’s daughter,” he laughed gruffly. “You have Demeter’s gifts and beauty, but I see my boldness in you as well.”
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I gasped, then whispered, “Father Zeus?” 

Read the next chapter of Persephone here!