"I thought I might find you here."
The girl turned, suspicious. I smiled, trying to waylay her fears, but she didn't relax at all. I sighed, inwardly. This may not be as easy as I'd hoped.
She looked younger than I knew she was, looked no more than in her mid 20s. Dyed black hair pulled back in a clip, clumsily. A Sandman t-shirt and jeans. An old scuffed pair of doc martins.
"Well, you look the part, anyway," I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "What part is that?"
I ignored her question, and took a seat next to her on the dock. She had been looking out over the harbour, something I had learnt she did often these days. Our grapevine is extensive; if you really want to find one of us, you pretty much always can. Eventually. She had taken me a while though.
She was still looking at me, bemused. Her emerald eyes betrayed her age. Her real age, that is. I wondered how any human could look at her, and not feel the anger and guilt that hid behind them
"I've been looking for you."
She sighed. "OK. I'll play. Which one are you? You can't be Aphrodite, cos she's always... well.. pretty. I'm pretty sure you're not Artemis. You'd have found me faster. So, I ask myself. Which God goes in the guise of a bag lady?"
I chuckled. "The one who is most seldom recognised. And found in strange places. The one that would come to Pandora to help her 'learn her place'."
That eyebrow raise again.
"'Wisdom arises in the unexpected'."
"Ah." She looked out over the water again. "Tough gig."
"Do you think?"
"Not so much space for you in this day and age."
"There never was, dear. But I am not here for the mortals today."
"You're going to teach me my place. I got it. Curiousity killed the cat. Women can't be trusted. Believe me, I got the memo. Loud. And. Clear."
"But you didn't. And neither did many of the mortals who tell your story."
She mumbled something under her breath.
"What was that?"
She looked straight into my eyes.
"I said, They never get it right, anyway."
**Thus begins the second story of my little Greek Myth project. I hope you enjoy this one as much as many of you seemed to have enjoyed the last. I have decided, for now, to keep things simple. For each donation I recieve, I will post a poem dedicated to the sponsor (it will be person appropriate depending on how well I know the person). Also, all sponsors are able to suggest a myth they'd like to see me write about, if they want to. (To the one person who has sponsored already: feel free to do this whenever and if you wish.) Also, I present an option to sponsors that I will place a links bar on the sidebar of this blog with your name (if you want), and a link to your (or any other you wish) website. Again, to the person who sponsored last week, let me know if you want to use this. Otherwise, I have started the third story, and am well into it. But for now, enjoy Pandora. :) **
Monday 31 March 2008
Thursday 27 March 2008
Poetic Interlude 1
In honour of my first sponsor (Thank you! I hope you like it, since you inspired it!):
Pond.
I remember coolness,
the comfort of wet.
Days spent sitting leaf-bound,
musing,
the taste of flies.
The taste of flies being delicious.
Calm. Long sun-drenched afternoons.
Swimming, easy and languid.
Simplicity. This is why I am.
To swim.
To sing.
To leap, spreadeagled against the sky.
To rejoice in rainfall.
Then, a flash of gold, and a favour.
And the awareness of desire.
The encroachment of awareness.
The pang of encroachment.
I don't tell him,
for the sound of the breaking iron,
for the long years of waiting,
for the faithfulness.
I don't tell her,
for the smiling kisses,
for the shining eyes,
for the loving touch.
How I miss the calm,
the cool,
the wet.
Pond.
I remember coolness,
the comfort of wet.
Days spent sitting leaf-bound,
musing,
the taste of flies.
The taste of flies being delicious.
Calm. Long sun-drenched afternoons.
Swimming, easy and languid.
Simplicity. This is why I am.
To swim.
To sing.
To leap, spreadeagled against the sky.
To rejoice in rainfall.
Then, a flash of gold, and a favour.
And the awareness of desire.
The encroachment of awareness.
The pang of encroachment.
I don't tell him,
for the sound of the breaking iron,
for the long years of waiting,
for the faithfulness.
I don't tell her,
for the smiling kisses,
for the shining eyes,
for the loving touch.
How I miss the calm,
the cool,
the wet.
Metapost
Hi there faithful readers. ;)
As you know, if you read the very first post, this blog is something of an experiment in cyber-funded creativity. Me trying to see if I can make some kind of money out of putting my stories out in the world. If you are reading this, you get to be my experimental audience, on whom I try to see if I can make this work.
Several of you have helped enormously already by getting the word out. You've linked to me on your own blogs. I believe some of you have been plugging me on facebook. And I thank you for spreading the word, because without readers this will never work. Those of you who came here via one of those people, yay! Thanks for coming! Please feel very free to tell your friends. *grin*
However, Belgatherial's Hearth has been in existence for over two weeks now, and I have yet to make a cent on donations. I have had a fair number of "wow, this is awesome"s (even from complete strangers! (Hi, thanks for popping round. Please keep coming back - oh, and tell all your friends. ;P)), which suggest that the writing is pretty decent, and I am getting more hits than I thought I would, so people are reading, they just aren't donating. So, I have been toying with a number of ideas for trying to encourage the donation thing to happen.
So, if you were on the verge of donating, which of these things would push you over to pressing the button? This is a purely hypothetical, and there are no obligations at all. I'm just looking for a little feedback. :)
Some of the things I have thought of doing:
* Not starting the second story until I get a certain amount in donations. Yay! Bribery. Of course the evil side effect is no-one ever donates and the whole project slides into disuse.... Which would suck, since the next story is ready and waiting to go. Of course, I do have various odds and ends I could throw your way until we hit the target, and I would make it a fairly managable target. How about NZ$50? What if I posted something tid-bitty, like a poem, or flash fic, each time anyone donates anything, even $1, and once we hit $50, I'll start on Pandora?
* Offering some kind of perk for donors. I'm not entirely sure what though - any suggestions? One of the things I thought of is a bonus epilogue. I'd write an epilogue to Eternity Touch which only donors get.
* Offering some kind of extra. Like printing and binding each story all pretty like at the end and sending it by mail to those who want it. Problem is, this would be pretty expensive to do, since I'd inevitably be sending internationally, and would have to charge accordingly. I am fairly crafty though, so I could make it look really good. If there's any interest I'll do some actual research into how much it would cost to do and send. Would any of you be interested in something like that, and if so, how much would you be willing to pay for it?
* Other forms of donation? (I'm really unsure this would work at all, but it crossed my mind, so I'll put it here). I have a wishlist for the books I need and want to write my thesis. Allowing people to donate by sending a book instead? The thing about this is it would probably be more expensive than if they just donated, and they clearly aren't doing that, so I dunno.
* Allowing donors to pick the next myth with which I deal. If you donate, you are able to tell me what to write about. Pick a myth for the next story I do (On a first come, first served basis). Multiple sponsors for the same myth would get equal bragging rights. ;)
* Creating a Donors' Link section on the sidebar, where I would acknowledge your contribution, and link to whatever website you choose. (Your own, or something you wish to support)
* For those of you on LJ, 'Song suggested it may help to be on LJ. In other words, as of the next story, I would double post to there as well, so you wouldn't have to follow a link, the story would just pop up on your friendslist.
So. Which of these do you, as the readers, think would be most effective?
As you know, if you read the very first post, this blog is something of an experiment in cyber-funded creativity. Me trying to see if I can make some kind of money out of putting my stories out in the world. If you are reading this, you get to be my experimental audience, on whom I try to see if I can make this work.
Several of you have helped enormously already by getting the word out. You've linked to me on your own blogs. I believe some of you have been plugging me on facebook. And I thank you for spreading the word, because without readers this will never work. Those of you who came here via one of those people, yay! Thanks for coming! Please feel very free to tell your friends. *grin*
However, Belgatherial's Hearth has been in existence for over two weeks now, and I have yet to make a cent on donations. I have had a fair number of "wow, this is awesome"s (even from complete strangers! (Hi, thanks for popping round. Please keep coming back - oh, and tell all your friends. ;P)), which suggest that the writing is pretty decent, and I am getting more hits than I thought I would, so people are reading, they just aren't donating. So, I have been toying with a number of ideas for trying to encourage the donation thing to happen.
So, if you were on the verge of donating, which of these things would push you over to pressing the button? This is a purely hypothetical, and there are no obligations at all. I'm just looking for a little feedback. :)
Some of the things I have thought of doing:
* Not starting the second story until I get a certain amount in donations. Yay! Bribery. Of course the evil side effect is no-one ever donates and the whole project slides into disuse.... Which would suck, since the next story is ready and waiting to go. Of course, I do have various odds and ends I could throw your way until we hit the target, and I would make it a fairly managable target. How about NZ$50? What if I posted something tid-bitty, like a poem, or flash fic, each time anyone donates anything, even $1, and once we hit $50, I'll start on Pandora?
* Offering some kind of perk for donors. I'm not entirely sure what though - any suggestions? One of the things I thought of is a bonus epilogue. I'd write an epilogue to Eternity Touch which only donors get.
* Offering some kind of extra. Like printing and binding each story all pretty like at the end and sending it by mail to those who want it. Problem is, this would be pretty expensive to do, since I'd inevitably be sending internationally, and would have to charge accordingly. I am fairly crafty though, so I could make it look really good. If there's any interest I'll do some actual research into how much it would cost to do and send. Would any of you be interested in something like that, and if so, how much would you be willing to pay for it?
* Other forms of donation? (I'm really unsure this would work at all, but it crossed my mind, so I'll put it here). I have a wishlist for the books I need and want to write my thesis. Allowing people to donate by sending a book instead? The thing about this is it would probably be more expensive than if they just donated, and they clearly aren't doing that, so I dunno.
* Allowing donors to pick the next myth with which I deal. If you donate, you are able to tell me what to write about. Pick a myth for the next story I do (On a first come, first served basis). Multiple sponsors for the same myth would get equal bragging rights. ;)
* Creating a Donors' Link section on the sidebar, where I would acknowledge your contribution, and link to whatever website you choose. (Your own, or something you wish to support)
* For those of you on LJ, 'Song suggested it may help to be on LJ. In other words, as of the next story, I would double post to there as well, so you wouldn't have to follow a link, the story would just pop up on your friendslist.
So. Which of these do you, as the readers, think would be most effective?
Wednesday 26 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 12)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I was terrified. The four of us in a bare room. A table and four chairs. She stood, shaky, but calm, as one who has made a decision after much time. I had no idea what she would say. I had spent the last six months playing it out in my mind, trying to guess her decision. I would think that she would pick the world, but then I would think of the hold Hades had over her, and would immediately second guess myself, and in the end be forced to admit that I quite simply could not predict my daughter.
"Persephone." Zeus used that name as if it were a title.
She looked him in the eyes, direct, unflinching.
"Zeus."
"You have decided." It was not a question. It was a command.
"I have."
He inclined his head for her to continue.
She glanced across at Hades. He was not looking at her, but was fiercely examining his hands stretched out on the table. She looked at me. I tried to smile, but was certain that it was a weak attempt. Then she looked at Zeus again.
"You have cursed me worse than I was before." Her tone was factual, with no accusation. "I must choose a life without the world, or one without…" Her eyes flashed across to Hades, who still would not look at her. She could not finish the sentence. She swallowed, and continued. "I have no choice but to accept it. And I have decided. I choose the world."
I didn’t recognize the small sound of joy as coming from myself. I closed my eyes in relief. Looked up at my daughter. She was looking at Hades. His hands were clenched now. A small drop of blood appeared on the table below one of them. I barely heard Zeus' response.
"So be it."
#
I see him from time to time. But it is not enough. It is always like that first time. Suddenly there as I walk down a street. Jeans and a t-shirt. But he never touches me. I got used to the longing. I have even become able to control it. But after his first visit it came back so strongly, that I told him he wasn't to touch me any more. I long for his touch, when I am with him. I guess it is like a drug. I can't give in to the desire - the price is too high. And in the absence of the physical contact, we have become friends. It is strange to think of, but I believe he really does miss me.
I catch my mother watching me from time to time. As if she is checking to make sure I am not aging. She knows when I have seen Hades. And although she says nothing, I think she resents it. We are not as close as we once were.
I am getting used to it. The span of time ahead of me scares me when I allow myself to think of it. I still can't comprehend the true meaning of eternity. No time limits. No means of escape. But most of the time I don’t think of it. Just keep moving.
Forever is a fearful word. But I imagine I will get used to it. It will take time. But I have plenty of that.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I was terrified. The four of us in a bare room. A table and four chairs. She stood, shaky, but calm, as one who has made a decision after much time. I had no idea what she would say. I had spent the last six months playing it out in my mind, trying to guess her decision. I would think that she would pick the world, but then I would think of the hold Hades had over her, and would immediately second guess myself, and in the end be forced to admit that I quite simply could not predict my daughter.
"Persephone." Zeus used that name as if it were a title.
She looked him in the eyes, direct, unflinching.
"Zeus."
"You have decided." It was not a question. It was a command.
"I have."
He inclined his head for her to continue.
She glanced across at Hades. He was not looking at her, but was fiercely examining his hands stretched out on the table. She looked at me. I tried to smile, but was certain that it was a weak attempt. Then she looked at Zeus again.
"You have cursed me worse than I was before." Her tone was factual, with no accusation. "I must choose a life without the world, or one without…" Her eyes flashed across to Hades, who still would not look at her. She could not finish the sentence. She swallowed, and continued. "I have no choice but to accept it. And I have decided. I choose the world."
I didn’t recognize the small sound of joy as coming from myself. I closed my eyes in relief. Looked up at my daughter. She was looking at Hades. His hands were clenched now. A small drop of blood appeared on the table below one of them. I barely heard Zeus' response.
"So be it."
#
I see him from time to time. But it is not enough. It is always like that first time. Suddenly there as I walk down a street. Jeans and a t-shirt. But he never touches me. I got used to the longing. I have even become able to control it. But after his first visit it came back so strongly, that I told him he wasn't to touch me any more. I long for his touch, when I am with him. I guess it is like a drug. I can't give in to the desire - the price is too high. And in the absence of the physical contact, we have become friends. It is strange to think of, but I believe he really does miss me.
I catch my mother watching me from time to time. As if she is checking to make sure I am not aging. She knows when I have seen Hades. And although she says nothing, I think she resents it. We are not as close as we once were.
I am getting used to it. The span of time ahead of me scares me when I allow myself to think of it. I still can't comprehend the true meaning of eternity. No time limits. No means of escape. But most of the time I don’t think of it. Just keep moving.
Forever is a fearful word. But I imagine I will get used to it. It will take time. But I have plenty of that.
---END---
Tuesday 25 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 11)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I railed and cursed and berated and even begged him but he would not listen. And when she came back, there was something in her eyes. Something that went beyond fear. A decision being made every moment of her day. A decision by which she would decide how to spend her eternity. It was strangely disquieting. Mortals often believe they make that decision. Religious fervour, prayer, repentance - all ways in which mortals fool themselves into thinking that the choice is theirs. But it is not. Except in this one case - and it was nearly more than she could take. One night I found her sitting quietly with tears running down her cheeks. She looked up at me as I walked in.
"How is it possible to choose?" she asked softly. "You, or all the rest of the world…"
I had no answer for her. I could not. I knew what I wanted her to choose. I knew, though I hated to admit it, that I was entrapping her at every opportunity. I had always known what a terrible thing free will could be, but had never witnessed it first hand like this. I knew I wished for her to stay.
And I knew she wouldn’t.
#
I thought it would be an easy choice. When I was first told, my heart leapt. I could stay with him - next time there would be none of this six month long desire, this desperate need to be touched by him. But then I began to think about it carefully. Began to consider what I was missing. To live my eternity, never growing old, never changing, forever in this illusory world he had created. Never to see my mother. Or the sun. Ever again.
Forever is a terrifying word when you are suddenly faced with it and all its implications.
But to go back, and have all that. And be faced with that longing for him. All the time. Forever.
I couldn't do it. It was Hell on the one hand, and hell on the other. A worse curse than the first one.
Hades tried to make it easier. He would give me space for days, but then he would arrive, alive with passion and an angry, all-consuming hunger, and I was trapped all over again. And we would sit, naked, in each other’s arms, and he would breathe raggedly into my ear. And I would shake my head, and say, "to give this up… but Hades, all that world…" and fall silent again at the impossibility of the decision before me.
But eventually, when the day came, I knew what I had decided. The allure of forever was too strong.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I railed and cursed and berated and even begged him but he would not listen. And when she came back, there was something in her eyes. Something that went beyond fear. A decision being made every moment of her day. A decision by which she would decide how to spend her eternity. It was strangely disquieting. Mortals often believe they make that decision. Religious fervour, prayer, repentance - all ways in which mortals fool themselves into thinking that the choice is theirs. But it is not. Except in this one case - and it was nearly more than she could take. One night I found her sitting quietly with tears running down her cheeks. She looked up at me as I walked in.
"How is it possible to choose?" she asked softly. "You, or all the rest of the world…"
I had no answer for her. I could not. I knew what I wanted her to choose. I knew, though I hated to admit it, that I was entrapping her at every opportunity. I had always known what a terrible thing free will could be, but had never witnessed it first hand like this. I knew I wished for her to stay.
And I knew she wouldn’t.
#
I thought it would be an easy choice. When I was first told, my heart leapt. I could stay with him - next time there would be none of this six month long desire, this desperate need to be touched by him. But then I began to think about it carefully. Began to consider what I was missing. To live my eternity, never growing old, never changing, forever in this illusory world he had created. Never to see my mother. Or the sun. Ever again.
Forever is a terrifying word when you are suddenly faced with it and all its implications.
But to go back, and have all that. And be faced with that longing for him. All the time. Forever.
I couldn't do it. It was Hell on the one hand, and hell on the other. A worse curse than the first one.
Hades tried to make it easier. He would give me space for days, but then he would arrive, alive with passion and an angry, all-consuming hunger, and I was trapped all over again. And we would sit, naked, in each other’s arms, and he would breathe raggedly into my ear. And I would shake my head, and say, "to give this up… but Hades, all that world…" and fall silent again at the impossibility of the decision before me.
But eventually, when the day came, I knew what I had decided. The allure of forever was too strong.
Monday 24 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 10)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It was strange to see him again, after all those centuries. I think that what happened between us might have been love, had we been mortals. He was silent for a long moment when I arrived.
"Hello Zeus."
He nodded a greeting. "Demeter."
"It has been a long time."
"Indeed."
There was a long silence. Then he spoke, his voice carefully even.
"You know why you are here."
"I know Hades has made... a request."
"He wishes your daughter to be made immortal."
I nodded, unable to speak. I hated that once again the fate of my daughter lay in those bitter angry hands. Zeus shook his head gently at me.
"This has gone on for a long time."
"Yes, Zeus." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice.
"Perhaps too long now."
"Yes." Of course too long, I thought. It was too long already after the first time.
"You understand that I was much angered."
This time I could not even muster a response.
He sighed. "But nevertheless, perhaps I was a little hasty."
Perhaps indeed! And it took him so many centuries to arrive at this conclusion, so much pain. So many times...
"So I will grant Hades' request."
I stiffened. "What does she think of this?"
"She thinks she has no say in the matter. And to be fair, your daughter is a bright girl. She doesn't really."
I had to ask. "Why grant his request Zeus? Why now, after all this time?''
"Because I like her, Demeter. Because I think this has gone on long enough." He paused, and I was suddenly scared. "Because Hades must learn that there is a limit to what he can take for himself."
I knew there was a catch. Suddenly, with the certainty of a mother, and I had to ask, though I dreaded the answer.
"What is the condition, Zeus?"
He smiled, a cold hard smile. "You know me well, still, Demeter. Yes, there is a condition. She will be immortal. But the curse is lifted. She must choose her place. The world, or the Underworld. Not both. She may have the next six months there to decide, and then I will have an answer from her."
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It was strange to see him again, after all those centuries. I think that what happened between us might have been love, had we been mortals. He was silent for a long moment when I arrived.
"Hello Zeus."
He nodded a greeting. "Demeter."
"It has been a long time."
"Indeed."
There was a long silence. Then he spoke, his voice carefully even.
"You know why you are here."
"I know Hades has made... a request."
"He wishes your daughter to be made immortal."
I nodded, unable to speak. I hated that once again the fate of my daughter lay in those bitter angry hands. Zeus shook his head gently at me.
"This has gone on for a long time."
"Yes, Zeus." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice.
"Perhaps too long now."
"Yes." Of course too long, I thought. It was too long already after the first time.
"You understand that I was much angered."
This time I could not even muster a response.
He sighed. "But nevertheless, perhaps I was a little hasty."
Perhaps indeed! And it took him so many centuries to arrive at this conclusion, so much pain. So many times...
"So I will grant Hades' request."
I stiffened. "What does she think of this?"
"She thinks she has no say in the matter. And to be fair, your daughter is a bright girl. She doesn't really."
I had to ask. "Why grant his request Zeus? Why now, after all this time?''
"Because I like her, Demeter. Because I think this has gone on long enough." He paused, and I was suddenly scared. "Because Hades must learn that there is a limit to what he can take for himself."
I knew there was a catch. Suddenly, with the certainty of a mother, and I had to ask, though I dreaded the answer.
"What is the condition, Zeus?"
He smiled, a cold hard smile. "You know me well, still, Demeter. Yes, there is a condition. She will be immortal. But the curse is lifted. She must choose her place. The world, or the Underworld. Not both. She may have the next six months there to decide, and then I will have an answer from her."
Thursday 20 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 9)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It's uncanny how fast a person can get used to things. It wasn't even a year since I had been taken by Hades, yet when my mother said that Zeus wanted to meet me, the idea wasn't as strange as it could have been. Of course, that may have had something to do with how distant everything seemed except the desire to see Hades again. But still, you really oughtn't to be so nonchalant about meeting the king of the gods. Especially when you know what an easily angered god he is.
The thing about the gods which still amazes me is how ordinary they look when you meet them for the first time. Of course, it's not real. I mean, what you see isn't really what they are, but still. They can take any form they like, but they never seem to make themselves particularly striking. (Except for Apollo, but he's just vain.) Zeus was no exception. He just looked like a sweet, harmless, grandfatherly type. It's deceptive. You find yourself thinking, what a sweet old man. Meanwhile he has so much power he doesn't really know what to do with it.
I gather he liked me. We had tea (if you can believe that!), and chatted like normal people. He wanted to know how I felt about the situation. I had to refrain from telling him how desperately I wished to be back with Hades. He wanted to know if Hades had been kind to me. And how my mother was doing. It was strangely surreal - like you imagine visitation rights of fathers to be. Although Zeus wasn't my father. That, clearly, was part of the problem. And at the end he asked me what I thought he should do.
"You do know that Hades has asked me to make you immortal?"
He asked in the same tone of voice as he would have asked if I took sugar with my tea. My head spun with the possibilities of immortality.
"Well, yes…" My mother had told me this much, but I was uncertain what I was meant to say about it.
"What do you think of that?"
"Well, to be frank…." I trailed off for a moment. "I don't really know. I mean, that's quite a serious proposition."
He chuckled.
"You could say that." He looked at me keenly for a moment. "Do you love him?"
I faltered. Was this desperate desire love?
"Well, I'm not sure. I enjoy his… company, certainly. But love him? I'm not sure that it's possible for a mortal to love the king of the Underworld."
He laughed this time. I hadn't meant it to be funny, but gods are strange that way. I shook my head in bewilderment.
"To be honest, I don't think I can answer that. And I don't think I can tell you if I want to be immortal. And, to be really frank, I don't think what I say is going to make the slightest difference to what you decide."
He laughed a third time.
"I like you, child." He stood up, suddenly all business. "I will talk to your mother about it."
And that was all. Dismissed, as at the end of an interview. In retrospect, I suppose that was what it was, although I had no idea what I was being interviewed for. Had I known, perhaps I would have gone about it differently. Or perhaps not. It's hard to tell.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It's uncanny how fast a person can get used to things. It wasn't even a year since I had been taken by Hades, yet when my mother said that Zeus wanted to meet me, the idea wasn't as strange as it could have been. Of course, that may have had something to do with how distant everything seemed except the desire to see Hades again. But still, you really oughtn't to be so nonchalant about meeting the king of the gods. Especially when you know what an easily angered god he is.
The thing about the gods which still amazes me is how ordinary they look when you meet them for the first time. Of course, it's not real. I mean, what you see isn't really what they are, but still. They can take any form they like, but they never seem to make themselves particularly striking. (Except for Apollo, but he's just vain.) Zeus was no exception. He just looked like a sweet, harmless, grandfatherly type. It's deceptive. You find yourself thinking, what a sweet old man. Meanwhile he has so much power he doesn't really know what to do with it.
I gather he liked me. We had tea (if you can believe that!), and chatted like normal people. He wanted to know how I felt about the situation. I had to refrain from telling him how desperately I wished to be back with Hades. He wanted to know if Hades had been kind to me. And how my mother was doing. It was strangely surreal - like you imagine visitation rights of fathers to be. Although Zeus wasn't my father. That, clearly, was part of the problem. And at the end he asked me what I thought he should do.
"You do know that Hades has asked me to make you immortal?"
He asked in the same tone of voice as he would have asked if I took sugar with my tea. My head spun with the possibilities of immortality.
"Well, yes…" My mother had told me this much, but I was uncertain what I was meant to say about it.
"What do you think of that?"
"Well, to be frank…." I trailed off for a moment. "I don't really know. I mean, that's quite a serious proposition."
He chuckled.
"You could say that." He looked at me keenly for a moment. "Do you love him?"
I faltered. Was this desperate desire love?
"Well, I'm not sure. I enjoy his… company, certainly. But love him? I'm not sure that it's possible for a mortal to love the king of the Underworld."
He laughed this time. I hadn't meant it to be funny, but gods are strange that way. I shook my head in bewilderment.
"To be honest, I don't think I can answer that. And I don't think I can tell you if I want to be immortal. And, to be really frank, I don't think what I say is going to make the slightest difference to what you decide."
He laughed a third time.
"I like you, child." He stood up, suddenly all business. "I will talk to your mother about it."
And that was all. Dismissed, as at the end of an interview. In retrospect, I suppose that was what it was, although I had no idea what I was being interviewed for. Had I known, perhaps I would have gone about it differently. Or perhaps not. It's hard to tell.
Wednesday 19 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 8)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I had hoped she would survive it better. She was the strongest of my daughters - the most hot-headed and self-assured. I had often, watching her as a child, thought that maybe she would come back to me still herself. Or at least more like herself than the others had. And at first it looked like she had. She smiled warmly and hugged me. The first couple of days we were as close as we had ever been. We spent every moment together, and I confess I allowed myself to think that maybe this time it wouldn't be so bad. But barely a week had passed before she started acting like the others had. Hours spent staring out the window, or going for walks by herself. The crying behind her closed door. And that blank look in her eyes that made me know she wasn't hearing anything I said. Once again, Hades had taken my daughter from me, even in the time that she was with me. What I didn't know, was that this time, she had made an impact on the all-powerful god of the Underworld in return.
#
It was awful. I can't describe it. That longing to be with him, to have him touch me. It was worse than anything I had ever experienced before. I imagine it is what it's like to be deprived of a drug you are dependant on. It wasn't just missing him. It was more than that - it was like a physical need, like hunger, or thirst, or suffocation. Even now, it happens sometimes. It wasn't an emotional need; it was more primal than that - more demanding.
I could tell how it hurt my mother. I could see it. And yet, I couldn't help it. It was as if I could see her hurt only through a veil - it wasn't quite real to me. And it just got worse. As the weeks passed, it became overriding. Almost unbearable - except for the small light of the knowledge that I would be back with him soon. It got to a point where that was all I was aware of - when I would be back with him. During those six months I came to know how like a drug he was - an addiction I couldn’t break. There are no support groups for people addicted to the touch of a god.
#
I missed her. It was crazy. I had never missed them before. It wasn't that I loved her. I couldn't have - gods don't really fall in love, despite what the stories may tell you. We can't afford it. I just... missed having her there. And that was what started the problem. I could have just left it alone - I knew Zeus regretted the curse. And instead of leaving it well alone and taking what I already had, I got greedy, and gave him the excuse he needed.
I went to him and asked him to make her immortal. I told him that this one was different - she was worthy of being one of us, and I thought that the curse had gone on long enough. He was intrigued. I suppose it was strange - Hades, who never asks favours on behalf of others, Hades, who takes what he wants without help from anyone else, actually asking Zeus for a favour. And on someone else's behalf too! Little wonder that he thought for so long about it. Little wonder that he decided he wanted to meet her. Demeter was very angry - she couldn't forgive me for bringing one of her daughters in contact with Zeus again - especially not after what had happened the last time. What she didn't know was that I was as unhappy about it as her.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
I had hoped she would survive it better. She was the strongest of my daughters - the most hot-headed and self-assured. I had often, watching her as a child, thought that maybe she would come back to me still herself. Or at least more like herself than the others had. And at first it looked like she had. She smiled warmly and hugged me. The first couple of days we were as close as we had ever been. We spent every moment together, and I confess I allowed myself to think that maybe this time it wouldn't be so bad. But barely a week had passed before she started acting like the others had. Hours spent staring out the window, or going for walks by herself. The crying behind her closed door. And that blank look in her eyes that made me know she wasn't hearing anything I said. Once again, Hades had taken my daughter from me, even in the time that she was with me. What I didn't know, was that this time, she had made an impact on the all-powerful god of the Underworld in return.
#
It was awful. I can't describe it. That longing to be with him, to have him touch me. It was worse than anything I had ever experienced before. I imagine it is what it's like to be deprived of a drug you are dependant on. It wasn't just missing him. It was more than that - it was like a physical need, like hunger, or thirst, or suffocation. Even now, it happens sometimes. It wasn't an emotional need; it was more primal than that - more demanding.
I could tell how it hurt my mother. I could see it. And yet, I couldn't help it. It was as if I could see her hurt only through a veil - it wasn't quite real to me. And it just got worse. As the weeks passed, it became overriding. Almost unbearable - except for the small light of the knowledge that I would be back with him soon. It got to a point where that was all I was aware of - when I would be back with him. During those six months I came to know how like a drug he was - an addiction I couldn’t break. There are no support groups for people addicted to the touch of a god.
#
I missed her. It was crazy. I had never missed them before. It wasn't that I loved her. I couldn't have - gods don't really fall in love, despite what the stories may tell you. We can't afford it. I just... missed having her there. And that was what started the problem. I could have just left it alone - I knew Zeus regretted the curse. And instead of leaving it well alone and taking what I already had, I got greedy, and gave him the excuse he needed.
I went to him and asked him to make her immortal. I told him that this one was different - she was worthy of being one of us, and I thought that the curse had gone on long enough. He was intrigued. I suppose it was strange - Hades, who never asks favours on behalf of others, Hades, who takes what he wants without help from anyone else, actually asking Zeus for a favour. And on someone else's behalf too! Little wonder that he thought for so long about it. Little wonder that he decided he wanted to meet her. Demeter was very angry - she couldn't forgive me for bringing one of her daughters in contact with Zeus again - especially not after what had happened the last time. What she didn't know was that I was as unhappy about it as her.
Tuesday 18 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 7)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It was strange how fast I got used to it there. Except for that first time, he never showed me Hell proper. I was kept in luxury - captivity, yes, but it was a pleasant prison. And I gathered that the story was true enough that I would be home with my mother in six months. At first the time passed slowly. But Hades was an attentive husband, and gradually I got used to him being my only company. In fact, I became strangely addicted to him. And I don't just mean the sex, although that was undoubtedly a vast part of the addiction. There was something else - something about him. Something immensely magnetic.
I suppose you could think that because he is a god it is not surprising that he was magnetic. But it wasn't that. I don't think he knew he was doing it at all. He wanted me to be comfortable and content, certainly. But I don't think it ever occurred to him to worry about whether I was happy there. And I certainly don't think it was anything like love. Despite what the legends may say, there is far too much unfamiliar territory between a mortal and a god for any kind of real intimacy.
I seemed to bewilder him, and that too surprised me. I thought that there would be nothing I could do that he wouldn't expect. I asked him about it once, and he answered that it was because of "that blasted free will", and refused to talk about it further.
The other thing that was weird about him was that he was very polite. That sounds silly. But I can't think of another word. I mean, let's face it, he could have magicked me into being perfectly content to sit in a cell and be his sex-toy if that were what he wanted. But he was impressively diffident, and gentle, and remarkably... British, I suppose would be the best description. Like Hugh Grant.
Unless he was angry. Then he was terrifying. As we neared the end of the first six months, he got more and more short tempered. I tried not to say anything to anger him. Not that he ever hurt me. But he didn’t need to - I knew he could snap me like a twig if he chose, and that was terrifying enough.
I remember once, he was pacing, up and down, up and down. Eventually, it got too much.
"Relax, Hades. Just sit for a moment."
He simply exploded. He flung the table across the room (his strength was terrifying in itself). Wordless books burst against the walls.
"How dare you order me!" he roared. "Do you think you are anything more than a mortal? Are you so arrogant as to command the gods?"
And he raged. It went on for what felt like hours. Eventually he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, bringing down an entire shelf of books with the impact. Hours later, when I had restored order to the room, he returned, proud and beautiful. The closest he ever came to an apology was the intense tenderness with which he would touch me after such outbursts. I gather he could never quite bring himself to apologize to a mortal, not even one he had taken as a lover.
And then the six months were over. I should have been thrilled. I mean I was happy. But not as happy as I had expected to be. I had no idea, however, what the next six months would be like.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
It was strange how fast I got used to it there. Except for that first time, he never showed me Hell proper. I was kept in luxury - captivity, yes, but it was a pleasant prison. And I gathered that the story was true enough that I would be home with my mother in six months. At first the time passed slowly. But Hades was an attentive husband, and gradually I got used to him being my only company. In fact, I became strangely addicted to him. And I don't just mean the sex, although that was undoubtedly a vast part of the addiction. There was something else - something about him. Something immensely magnetic.
I suppose you could think that because he is a god it is not surprising that he was magnetic. But it wasn't that. I don't think he knew he was doing it at all. He wanted me to be comfortable and content, certainly. But I don't think it ever occurred to him to worry about whether I was happy there. And I certainly don't think it was anything like love. Despite what the legends may say, there is far too much unfamiliar territory between a mortal and a god for any kind of real intimacy.
I seemed to bewilder him, and that too surprised me. I thought that there would be nothing I could do that he wouldn't expect. I asked him about it once, and he answered that it was because of "that blasted free will", and refused to talk about it further.
The other thing that was weird about him was that he was very polite. That sounds silly. But I can't think of another word. I mean, let's face it, he could have magicked me into being perfectly content to sit in a cell and be his sex-toy if that were what he wanted. But he was impressively diffident, and gentle, and remarkably... British, I suppose would be the best description. Like Hugh Grant.
Unless he was angry. Then he was terrifying. As we neared the end of the first six months, he got more and more short tempered. I tried not to say anything to anger him. Not that he ever hurt me. But he didn’t need to - I knew he could snap me like a twig if he chose, and that was terrifying enough.
I remember once, he was pacing, up and down, up and down. Eventually, it got too much.
"Relax, Hades. Just sit for a moment."
He simply exploded. He flung the table across the room (his strength was terrifying in itself). Wordless books burst against the walls.
"How dare you order me!" he roared. "Do you think you are anything more than a mortal? Are you so arrogant as to command the gods?"
And he raged. It went on for what felt like hours. Eventually he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, bringing down an entire shelf of books with the impact. Hours later, when I had restored order to the room, he returned, proud and beautiful. The closest he ever came to an apology was the intense tenderness with which he would touch me after such outbursts. I gather he could never quite bring himself to apologize to a mortal, not even one he had taken as a lover.
And then the six months were over. I should have been thrilled. I mean I was happy. But not as happy as I had expected to be. I had no idea, however, what the next six months would be like.
Monday 17 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 6)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
You see, only part of the myth is true. Yes, I am the goddess of spring. Yes, I do control the seasons. But her father wasn't Zeus. In fact, her father wasn't a god at all. Back then, I told Zeus she was his so that he'd get her back for me - that first time. He was so angry when he found out that I had lied. He couldn't understand the absolute fear and despair of a mother knowing her beautiful daughter is stuck in the Underworld. He couldn't understand the madness - I would have done anything to get her back, even lie to the king of the gods. And it worked. Well, at first. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, having to give her up for half of the year. And Hades is a wily old god. I knew beyond doubt, although she never actually said as much to me, that she missed him during the months she spent with me.
It was Hades who first noticed that she was aging. He came to me and asked me about it. The daughter of two gods would be immortal - aging simply wouldn't happen. I suppose I knew it would come out. I knew she would age - admittedly slower than most, due to being my daughter, but just as irrevocably and unstoppably as any other mortal. When Zeus found out, he was furious. I think he had grown to love her, in his own way, and to be told that not only was she not his, but her father had been a mere mortal was more than he could stand. Oh, how he raged at me. It still sends shivers through me to think of it.
Thus, the curse.
The story would play itself out over and over again for all time. The first Persephone, as is the way with mortals, eventually grew old and died. Hades was strangely moved by her death - far more so than I had expected. And soon after her death, I found myself pregnant. And it all started all over again. Zeus claimed it was to maintain the seasons, but I am sure it was more out of anger. I am also sure he could have revoked it and saved us all a lot of pain, but that would have proved that it was simply an act of malice, and Zeus never admits a mistake.
The strangest thing is that I have tried to avoid the pregnancy. But each time, as my daughter gets old and nears death, one way or another, I find myself pregnant again. And always by a mortal father. And losing her always hurts, although I know from the day she is born that it is coming, and I know that I will get her back for half of each year. It still hurts every time. Maybe it’s because she is never the same that first time she comes back.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
You see, only part of the myth is true. Yes, I am the goddess of spring. Yes, I do control the seasons. But her father wasn't Zeus. In fact, her father wasn't a god at all. Back then, I told Zeus she was his so that he'd get her back for me - that first time. He was so angry when he found out that I had lied. He couldn't understand the absolute fear and despair of a mother knowing her beautiful daughter is stuck in the Underworld. He couldn't understand the madness - I would have done anything to get her back, even lie to the king of the gods. And it worked. Well, at first. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, having to give her up for half of the year. And Hades is a wily old god. I knew beyond doubt, although she never actually said as much to me, that she missed him during the months she spent with me.
It was Hades who first noticed that she was aging. He came to me and asked me about it. The daughter of two gods would be immortal - aging simply wouldn't happen. I suppose I knew it would come out. I knew she would age - admittedly slower than most, due to being my daughter, but just as irrevocably and unstoppably as any other mortal. When Zeus found out, he was furious. I think he had grown to love her, in his own way, and to be told that not only was she not his, but her father had been a mere mortal was more than he could stand. Oh, how he raged at me. It still sends shivers through me to think of it.
Thus, the curse.
The story would play itself out over and over again for all time. The first Persephone, as is the way with mortals, eventually grew old and died. Hades was strangely moved by her death - far more so than I had expected. And soon after her death, I found myself pregnant. And it all started all over again. Zeus claimed it was to maintain the seasons, but I am sure it was more out of anger. I am also sure he could have revoked it and saved us all a lot of pain, but that would have proved that it was simply an act of malice, and Zeus never admits a mistake.
The strangest thing is that I have tried to avoid the pregnancy. But each time, as my daughter gets old and nears death, one way or another, I find myself pregnant again. And always by a mortal father. And losing her always hurts, although I know from the day she is born that it is coming, and I know that I will get her back for half of each year. It still hurts every time. Maybe it’s because she is never the same that first time she comes back.
Sunday 16 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 5)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
She was pleasing. Remarkably so. I think it was then that I really knew that she was different, that there was something about this girl that was going to surprise me. Afterwards I sat watching her. She recovered quickly. Much quicker than I was accustomed to. She sat up and looked me straight in the eyes for a long time.
Eventually, she said, very slowly, "And now?"
"Make yourself comfortable," I replied. "You'll be staying a while."
She was silent for a long time. Then she calmly re-clothed herself and sat in a chair opposite me. She frowned.
"OK. So if I'm Persephone," she glanced at me, still disbelieving, "then my mother is Demeter, right?"
I nodded.
"The goddess of spring and suchlike?"
I nodded.
"As in the Greek myth?"
I nodded again.
"But that's crazy!" she exclaimed. "It's a myth, for fucksakes!!"
"You really are a foul-mouthed creature, aren't you?" I replied.
She dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. "Look. Last time I checked we were slap-bang at the beginning of the twenty first century. And call me crazy, but that's no place for Greek myths to be playing themselves out."
"You're crazy," I replied.
"Don't try and be funny," she snapped.
I sighed. I had been right. She was a difficult one.
"Ok," I acquiesced, "let me try and explain this to you…"
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
She was pleasing. Remarkably so. I think it was then that I really knew that she was different, that there was something about this girl that was going to surprise me. Afterwards I sat watching her. She recovered quickly. Much quicker than I was accustomed to. She sat up and looked me straight in the eyes for a long time.
Eventually, she said, very slowly, "And now?"
"Make yourself comfortable," I replied. "You'll be staying a while."
She was silent for a long time. Then she calmly re-clothed herself and sat in a chair opposite me. She frowned.
"OK. So if I'm Persephone," she glanced at me, still disbelieving, "then my mother is Demeter, right?"
I nodded.
"The goddess of spring and suchlike?"
I nodded.
"As in the Greek myth?"
I nodded again.
"But that's crazy!" she exclaimed. "It's a myth, for fucksakes!!"
"You really are a foul-mouthed creature, aren't you?" I replied.
She dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. "Look. Last time I checked we were slap-bang at the beginning of the twenty first century. And call me crazy, but that's no place for Greek myths to be playing themselves out."
"You're crazy," I replied.
"Don't try and be funny," she snapped.
I sighed. I had been right. She was a difficult one.
"Ok," I acquiesced, "let me try and explain this to you…"
Saturday 15 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 4)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
** NOTE: The next couple of extracts contain slightly adult content. Nothing graphic (Cos I blush too much), but stuff is definitely implied. Just so you know. **
The thing that amazed me was how his touch changed. I mean, once I got over the being in hell thing. Of course I hadn't believed him at first. He found that hard to handle. You'd think a god would know how to handle any situation, but apparently human social skills are beyond the repertoire of the Lord of Hades. But he convinced me. I couldn't continue to disbelieve once I had seen those rooms. That coldness in his eyes as he said to me, "I'll show you". They were… awful. Clinical. The only way I can explain it is like a mental asylum. One of those really terrible ones you see in movies from decades ago, only worse. Much, much worse. No fire and brimstone, no Dante infernos. Nothing as living, as heated, as a flame. Just rooms and rooms of empty souls, going quietly mad. And some going not so quietly mad. It makes me shiver just thinking about it. I cried. Horrified, silent tears, burning my cheeks. It was a strange kind of relief, to feel those hot points of salt water on my skin, so I knew I, at least, was still alive. Eventually, he took us away. I might have begged him to leave. I don’t really remember.
And then suddenly we weren't there any more. We were in what looked like a drawing room. Well, at least, what I would imagine a drawing room to look like (having never been in a real one before). Complete with log fire, and shelves of books. Although when I tried to read one, I realized they were all blank. Beautiful leather bound books - Great Expectations, Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, all the classics - but every one of them blank inside. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged.
"I couldn't fill them in. I hadn't ever read any of them," was his only explanation.
And then he touched me. I can't explain the change. My only guess is that he decided it must change - he knew the effect he wanted, and so he got it. It was electrifying. I felt him touch me in every nerve in my body - and the result was a profoundly pure physical reaction. If you can imagine the best lover you have ever had, and then imagine what a god can do with that kind of knowledge.
All I can say is, it was never pomegranate seeds that trapped Persephone in Hell.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
** NOTE: The next couple of extracts contain slightly adult content. Nothing graphic (Cos I blush too much), but stuff is definitely implied. Just so you know. **
The thing that amazed me was how his touch changed. I mean, once I got over the being in hell thing. Of course I hadn't believed him at first. He found that hard to handle. You'd think a god would know how to handle any situation, but apparently human social skills are beyond the repertoire of the Lord of Hades. But he convinced me. I couldn't continue to disbelieve once I had seen those rooms. That coldness in his eyes as he said to me, "I'll show you". They were… awful. Clinical. The only way I can explain it is like a mental asylum. One of those really terrible ones you see in movies from decades ago, only worse. Much, much worse. No fire and brimstone, no Dante infernos. Nothing as living, as heated, as a flame. Just rooms and rooms of empty souls, going quietly mad. And some going not so quietly mad. It makes me shiver just thinking about it. I cried. Horrified, silent tears, burning my cheeks. It was a strange kind of relief, to feel those hot points of salt water on my skin, so I knew I, at least, was still alive. Eventually, he took us away. I might have begged him to leave. I don’t really remember.
And then suddenly we weren't there any more. We were in what looked like a drawing room. Well, at least, what I would imagine a drawing room to look like (having never been in a real one before). Complete with log fire, and shelves of books. Although when I tried to read one, I realized they were all blank. Beautiful leather bound books - Great Expectations, Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, all the classics - but every one of them blank inside. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged.
"I couldn't fill them in. I hadn't ever read any of them," was his only explanation.
And then he touched me. I can't explain the change. My only guess is that he decided it must change - he knew the effect he wanted, and so he got it. It was electrifying. I felt him touch me in every nerve in my body - and the result was a profoundly pure physical reaction. If you can imagine the best lover you have ever had, and then imagine what a god can do with that kind of knowledge.
All I can say is, it was never pomegranate seeds that trapped Persephone in Hell.
Friday 14 March 2008
Eternity touch (Part 3)
===
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
Of course I knew when he took her. A mother does. I felt her go. Also, I had been expecting it. It's the hardest thing for a mother to accept - that your child can be in danger, that you can know it will happen, but you can't predict when, that you can't tell her, and that, when it comes down to it, no matter how you try, no matter what you do, you can't do a thing to stop it. But I knew when he took her, and maybe that's something.
I was sitting drinking tea with some society type women. Playing the role to the hilt. And it came - that rush of cold, that absolute certain knowledge I had been dreading. It was all I could do not to rush out immediately. But I knew that there was nothing I could do right at that moment. And more to the point, that it would play itself out again, this thing I hated and dreaded each time.
I made my apologies - feigned illness I suspect (I never really remember the moments immediately after that cold dreadful certain one) - and got home before it hit. After so many centuries you'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. That wave of despair, so encompassing. So horrible. I had only just closed the door when I sank to the floor sobbing. It's strange, there is always a part of my mind that knows this is a playing out of a fated hurt, and I always know that it will pass, but it is so profound - I can't explain it in mortal terms. You couldn't understand. It fills everything. And all I can do is just wait for it to pass…
#
And suddenly, months before it should have arrived, the snow began to fall.
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
Of course I knew when he took her. A mother does. I felt her go. Also, I had been expecting it. It's the hardest thing for a mother to accept - that your child can be in danger, that you can know it will happen, but you can't predict when, that you can't tell her, and that, when it comes down to it, no matter how you try, no matter what you do, you can't do a thing to stop it. But I knew when he took her, and maybe that's something.
I was sitting drinking tea with some society type women. Playing the role to the hilt. And it came - that rush of cold, that absolute certain knowledge I had been dreading. It was all I could do not to rush out immediately. But I knew that there was nothing I could do right at that moment. And more to the point, that it would play itself out again, this thing I hated and dreaded each time.
I made my apologies - feigned illness I suspect (I never really remember the moments immediately after that cold dreadful certain one) - and got home before it hit. After so many centuries you'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. That wave of despair, so encompassing. So horrible. I had only just closed the door when I sank to the floor sobbing. It's strange, there is always a part of my mind that knows this is a playing out of a fated hurt, and I always know that it will pass, but it is so profound - I can't explain it in mortal terms. You couldn't understand. It fills everything. And all I can do is just wait for it to pass…
#
And suddenly, months before it should have arrived, the snow began to fall.
Thursday 13 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 2)
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Click here to start at the beginning.
===
She wasn't at all as I had imagined her. She was supposed to be quiet and submissive and very feminine. Instead she was talkative, much too talkative for my liking, and she spoke to me in a manner that suggested that I was rather below her. As if she was doing me a favour by allowing me to converse with her. She didn't look the part either - this little girl with her mousy hair all bunched up at the back of her head, and a ragged fringe hanging too long in her eyes. I even, for a moment, wondered if I had been mistaken. However, the moment I touched her I could tell that there was no error. I could feel her blood beneath her skin, and read everything in it.
She didn't resist at first, which made the journey easy. That too surprised me. Usually they yell and scream and struggle and make it all very unpleasant. It wasn't until we had arrived that she responded at all. And then it was in a manner very different to what I was used to.
"Jesus fucking Christ! What was that?" she said.
"You’re rather foul-mouthed for a young lady," I responded.
She snorted. "Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind."
I watched her reactions carefully. This one was different to the others, and that made her unpredictable, and I don’t like unpredictable. I cursed the god who had given mortals their free will and made them impossible for us to read accurately. She looked around slowly, and walked away from me slightly. Then she turned and regarded me from beneath that unsightly fringe.
"OK. You've got me. How'd you do that? And where are we now?"
I was silent for a moment. Then I stepped closer. She stepped back quickly, eyeing me suspiciously.
"No, we're here now," I assured her. "I'm not taking you anywhere else."
"Right." She was being very cautious. "So where is here?"
Again, I paused. This is always the worst part. When they realize where they are.
"Here. Hell. Hades." I shrugged. "Whatever name you choose to give it."
I waited for the screaming, the sobs, the usual hysterics. They never came. She was looking at me with a look of skepticism, which slowly ebbed into disbelief. Then she started laughing. I was slightly taken aback.
"What, is that some kind of melodramatic, Goth-kidnapper, classics student joke?" she said, when her laughing subsided. "Because I tell you, it's a bit of a cliché. I'm no Persephone, my dear!"
"Actually, my love," I replied, "that’s exactly what you are."
Click here to start at the beginning.
===
She wasn't at all as I had imagined her. She was supposed to be quiet and submissive and very feminine. Instead she was talkative, much too talkative for my liking, and she spoke to me in a manner that suggested that I was rather below her. As if she was doing me a favour by allowing me to converse with her. She didn't look the part either - this little girl with her mousy hair all bunched up at the back of her head, and a ragged fringe hanging too long in her eyes. I even, for a moment, wondered if I had been mistaken. However, the moment I touched her I could tell that there was no error. I could feel her blood beneath her skin, and read everything in it.
She didn't resist at first, which made the journey easy. That too surprised me. Usually they yell and scream and struggle and make it all very unpleasant. It wasn't until we had arrived that she responded at all. And then it was in a manner very different to what I was used to.
"Jesus fucking Christ! What was that?" she said.
"You’re rather foul-mouthed for a young lady," I responded.
She snorted. "Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind."
I watched her reactions carefully. This one was different to the others, and that made her unpredictable, and I don’t like unpredictable. I cursed the god who had given mortals their free will and made them impossible for us to read accurately. She looked around slowly, and walked away from me slightly. Then she turned and regarded me from beneath that unsightly fringe.
"OK. You've got me. How'd you do that? And where are we now?"
I was silent for a moment. Then I stepped closer. She stepped back quickly, eyeing me suspiciously.
"No, we're here now," I assured her. "I'm not taking you anywhere else."
"Right." She was being very cautious. "So where is here?"
Again, I paused. This is always the worst part. When they realize where they are.
"Here. Hell. Hades." I shrugged. "Whatever name you choose to give it."
I waited for the screaming, the sobs, the usual hysterics. They never came. She was looking at me with a look of skepticism, which slowly ebbed into disbelief. Then she started laughing. I was slightly taken aback.
"What, is that some kind of melodramatic, Goth-kidnapper, classics student joke?" she said, when her laughing subsided. "Because I tell you, it's a bit of a cliché. I'm no Persephone, my dear!"
"Actually, my love," I replied, "that’s exactly what you are."
Wednesday 12 March 2008
Eternity Touch (Part 1)
It wasn't even a cold night. You'd think it would've been. Or raining at least - cold and stormy, that's when these things happen isn't it? But it wasn't. There wasn't the slightest hint. In fact it was warm - one of those strangely uplifting nights, when summer dances on the wind and the stars are bright, and everything feels a little crazy and anticipatory. That might've been the hint, but if it was, I wasn't paying attention. I felt totally light. In retrospect I should have known better. That kind of lightness is always followed by the world screwing you over completely. But I guess that 'enjoyment of the moment' thing motivational speakers are so high on had me firmly in its grip, holding me over a chasm, about to drop me into it. Quite literally. Although the ground didn't quake and shiver and split open, and the sky didn't roar and flash fire, and, well, to be frank, it was all pretty unmythic really.
He's small. Much smaller than you'd think he would be. And that night he gave me no reason whatsoever to think he was a threat. I guess someone like him doesn't need brute strength and size, not when he has so much at his fingertips. He struck me as almost weedy, to be honest. He wore jeans and a t-shirt - nothing to suggest, well anything. You have to understand, I have gone over and over this in my mind, trying to find something that might have warned me. I find it so hard to believe something like this can just happen. But there was nothing about him, nothing about the night, absolutely nothing at all that could have been a warning. No foreboding whatsoever - and there's me, ever the believer in intuition. I guess intuition was away that night.
Anyway, like I was saying, jeans and a t-shirt. Only slightly taller than me (and I'm a little thing - 'petite' my mother calls it) and relatively skinny. In fact, on sight I'd have said I could probably have taken him, what with the self-defense classes my mother was making me take. So it's not a big surprise that I stopped to talk to him. Asking me the time - I mean really, you'd think a god could come up with something more original than that! And then the usual - where was I from, what was a pretty girl like me doing roaming the streets at that time of night... It was only when he caught hold of my wrist that I knew there was anything strange about him (again - how can you engage in small talk with a god and not realize that there's something a little odd about him? And I just thought he was shy and a bit awkward!). His grip was uncannily strong, but that wasn’t what alarmed me. It was also freezing. In fact, his hand was so cold I gasped. I looked up in horror and noticed for the first time that he had eyes like ice. Ice blue and deeply cold, there wasn’t the slightest bit of humanity there.
"Well, my love," he said, and the voice had changed - it too was like ice now, cold and hard. "Enough small talk, let's go home, shall we?"
I couldn't answer. The cold from my wrist was shooting up my arm and agonizingly into my shoulder. Suddenly my ears were full of the sound of wind, but not the warm balminess it had been all night. This wind was cold and violent, biting into my skin, and cutting straight to the bones beneath it. I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet, or see beyond the cold blue of those eyes. Staring into the eyes of a god (although I didn't know that yet), I was sucked into hell.
He's small. Much smaller than you'd think he would be. And that night he gave me no reason whatsoever to think he was a threat. I guess someone like him doesn't need brute strength and size, not when he has so much at his fingertips. He struck me as almost weedy, to be honest. He wore jeans and a t-shirt - nothing to suggest, well anything. You have to understand, I have gone over and over this in my mind, trying to find something that might have warned me. I find it so hard to believe something like this can just happen. But there was nothing about him, nothing about the night, absolutely nothing at all that could have been a warning. No foreboding whatsoever - and there's me, ever the believer in intuition. I guess intuition was away that night.
Anyway, like I was saying, jeans and a t-shirt. Only slightly taller than me (and I'm a little thing - 'petite' my mother calls it) and relatively skinny. In fact, on sight I'd have said I could probably have taken him, what with the self-defense classes my mother was making me take. So it's not a big surprise that I stopped to talk to him. Asking me the time - I mean really, you'd think a god could come up with something more original than that! And then the usual - where was I from, what was a pretty girl like me doing roaming the streets at that time of night... It was only when he caught hold of my wrist that I knew there was anything strange about him (again - how can you engage in small talk with a god and not realize that there's something a little odd about him? And I just thought he was shy and a bit awkward!). His grip was uncannily strong, but that wasn’t what alarmed me. It was also freezing. In fact, his hand was so cold I gasped. I looked up in horror and noticed for the first time that he had eyes like ice. Ice blue and deeply cold, there wasn’t the slightest bit of humanity there.
"Well, my love," he said, and the voice had changed - it too was like ice now, cold and hard. "Enough small talk, let's go home, shall we?"
I couldn't answer. The cold from my wrist was shooting up my arm and agonizingly into my shoulder. Suddenly my ears were full of the sound of wind, but not the warm balminess it had been all night. This wind was cold and violent, biting into my skin, and cutting straight to the bones beneath it. I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet, or see beyond the cold blue of those eyes. Staring into the eyes of a god (although I didn't know that yet), I was sucked into hell.
Welcome to my hearth.
Hi there.
Presumably if you are reading this, you already know me. You will have come here because you got an email from me, or from a link on my livejournal. I am starting this blog for my creative writings. Stories which I have hidden from the world for years. Stuff that's bubbling in my brain. Possibly even some poetry here and there.
My first major project started years ago with a story called Eternity Touch, which I will post after this. Eternity Touch was written for an anthology that never happened. The idea behind it was that various people would write stories based on myths. Mine was based on one of my all-time favourite myths: Persephone's abduction into hell, and the subsequent creation of the seasons. To the best of my knowledge, no-one else came through with a story. Certainly, the anthology never happened. But I did get one of my best stories out of it. So, my proposal is to fulfill the original dream. To create a series of stories based on myths. I'm not going to try and stick to the Greek, because other mythologies also have such lovely stuff to work from.
At the end of each story there will be a 'donate' button. You are not obliged to donate, but it would be most appreciated, and if all goes well, it may eventually turn into an actual book. If that happens, everyone who donated will be acknowledged in that book. I have seen this work for other people ( M.C.A. Hogarth's wonderful The Aphorism's of Kerishdar happened out of a similar project on her livejournal, and are very much well worth reading, because they are gorgeous. And check it out - now she's on Amazon!). This kind of cyber-funded creativity is starting to happen, and while I don't for one second put myself in the same category as people like M.C.A Hogarth or 'Song with her brilliant Wind Tunnel Dreams and Shayara, I do think I write some pretty nifty stuff, and it would rock to make some cash out of it. Especially since, at the moment, things are very, very tight. The small donations add up, so don't feel that if you can't donate a lot it's a problem. Small donations are also very very welcome, and you will be acknowledged if I manage to make a book out of this. However, if you really can't do it, please still keep reading. Readers are important.
Also, if you feel the need or inclination to plug this, please do so. The more people going, "hey, where's the next one?", the more inclined I will feel to write. I may throw in a couple of other, unconnected pieces here and there, just to keep things interesting. You help me by spreading the word. Please do.
I have said elsewhere that fiction is hardest for me. Travel I can do. Easily. Writing about cooking comes as naturally as breathing. I can even tell you how to live your life with minimum shame. But fiction scares the bejesus out of me. I freeze up. The stories in my head laugh at me and swirl around so I can't get them down. I may end up doing the various stories episodically as a result of this. Eternity Touch took me ages to write, and I want to keep you interested. All and any encouragement is very welcome. Help me make something beautiful. Donate if you can, and please, please, bring your friends.
Welcome to my hearth. It's story time.
Presumably if you are reading this, you already know me. You will have come here because you got an email from me, or from a link on my livejournal. I am starting this blog for my creative writings. Stories which I have hidden from the world for years. Stuff that's bubbling in my brain. Possibly even some poetry here and there.
My first major project started years ago with a story called Eternity Touch, which I will post after this. Eternity Touch was written for an anthology that never happened. The idea behind it was that various people would write stories based on myths. Mine was based on one of my all-time favourite myths: Persephone's abduction into hell, and the subsequent creation of the seasons. To the best of my knowledge, no-one else came through with a story. Certainly, the anthology never happened. But I did get one of my best stories out of it. So, my proposal is to fulfill the original dream. To create a series of stories based on myths. I'm not going to try and stick to the Greek, because other mythologies also have such lovely stuff to work from.
At the end of each story there will be a 'donate' button. You are not obliged to donate, but it would be most appreciated, and if all goes well, it may eventually turn into an actual book. If that happens, everyone who donated will be acknowledged in that book. I have seen this work for other people ( M.C.A. Hogarth's wonderful The Aphorism's of Kerishdar happened out of a similar project on her livejournal, and are very much well worth reading, because they are gorgeous. And check it out - now she's on Amazon!). This kind of cyber-funded creativity is starting to happen, and while I don't for one second put myself in the same category as people like M.C.A Hogarth or 'Song with her brilliant Wind Tunnel Dreams and Shayara, I do think I write some pretty nifty stuff, and it would rock to make some cash out of it. Especially since, at the moment, things are very, very tight. The small donations add up, so don't feel that if you can't donate a lot it's a problem. Small donations are also very very welcome, and you will be acknowledged if I manage to make a book out of this. However, if you really can't do it, please still keep reading. Readers are important.
Also, if you feel the need or inclination to plug this, please do so. The more people going, "hey, where's the next one?", the more inclined I will feel to write. I may throw in a couple of other, unconnected pieces here and there, just to keep things interesting. You help me by spreading the word. Please do.
I have said elsewhere that fiction is hardest for me. Travel I can do. Easily. Writing about cooking comes as naturally as breathing. I can even tell you how to live your life with minimum shame. But fiction scares the bejesus out of me. I freeze up. The stories in my head laugh at me and swirl around so I can't get them down. I may end up doing the various stories episodically as a result of this. Eternity Touch took me ages to write, and I want to keep you interested. All and any encouragement is very welcome. Help me make something beautiful. Donate if you can, and please, please, bring your friends.
Welcome to my hearth. It's story time.
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