The Seasons That Weren't

The scent of flowers never left her mind even when she was surrounded by the scent of despair. No one would willingly choose to live in the underworld but she was never given any choice. She was tricked into eating seeds from the underworld and was bound here for half a year. The other half she spent with her mother who hovered over her and wouldn’t let her move unless she was also by her side.

Persephone was tired of having everyone else decide her fate. She missed the times where she could freely frock the meadows on her own. Now, she is always watched whether it be by her mother or by him. He was her husband or so he declared it so. They had married and she had become his queen. 

He said that he loved her but what love started with a trap?  He also knew nothing of her whenever he praised her it was always centered on her beauty. 

“Looking at you is like gazing at life itself.” He compliments, his eyes appraising her like she was the first harvest of the season. 

He would always expect her to become demure and bask in the compliment but she wasn’t a batch of wheat that could be sickled down. He was persistent at first, going against his own passive nature. Compliments piled on compliments till eventually they tumbled and left him disgruntled with a piercing glare. His eyes were arrows but she was a target he’d never reach. 

Her time in the underworld was lonely. She spent most of it trying to bring growth to this barren world. The vegetation that did grow there she never dared to touch for fear of becoming trapped longer. Whenever she visited her mother she would collect as many flower seeds as she could and hope that something would grow in her underworld home. It never did but the scent of flowers in bloom would never leave her mind. 

Eventually, she had started to bring dirt from the world above. She planted the seeds as always, her eyes full of hope. Her mind is already full of its blooming scent. She waits but it does not work. The seeds never sprout and she feels herself becoming colder. 

Her Queenship had given her powers. She was always able to bring life to the world but now she could bring its demise. There were times when she was with her mother and she would pluck a flower to bring to her nose. As she takes in the scent expecting sweetness she is always greeted with the stench of it wasting away. 

Persephone didn’t understand her new powers and as time went on she found herself resentful of it. She had no idea the bloom that stayed after her tears had fallen onto the ground. She had no idea the joy she brought others when they found her discarded flowers that had wasted away. They would take it, compiling it with other waste then place it back in the ground to help fertilize a new batch of life. 

Her mother had noticed Persephone’s new powers and had shaken her head with disgust for it. 

“His world has tainted you.” She observes, her nostrils flared but she tries hard to conceal her anger.

Persephone looks downward, unable to look at her mother. She had felt like she was losing herself and her mother’s confirmation of those differences almost dampened the lasting smell of flowers in her mind. She gazes downward and then stretches out her fingers that feel like they now belong to another.

“I am me, still.” She asserts. “He will not take anything from me.” 

When she gazes back at her mother, she’s startled by her pitying eyes. 

“When I look at you, my love, I feel as if I’m gazing at death itself. Your light is dim. Your touch is cold.” She stops herself bringing Persephone into a tight hug.

“As long as you're by my side, my gaze will never leave you.” She continues and Persephone feels shackled in her grasp. 

Time went on. Time stood still. Persephone started to understand the contrast inside of her. She relished in the happiness of others whose plentiful harvests kept them sated through the colder seasons. She started to realize without destruction things couldn’t become anew. 

So in turn, Persephone destroyed herself. She destroyed the naive daughter of Demeter that she was. She destroyed the displaced daughter of life who lived in the underworld that she had become. Now, she was only Persephone, a bridge to life and death. 

Many fear her. Some are too afraid to utter her name. Yet, still in this new version of her, she found herself unsatisfied because she was still bound. Not just to the underworld but also her mother’s side.

As time continued, some claim the flowers lost their color. The roses looked more pink rather than red. The violets barely look like their name. It had brought ire to Chloris, goddess of flowers. 

They say that one day in a fit of anger she had declared that no flowers shall bloom. In retaliation, Demeter had made it so no vegetation would grow. The sight of the world was bleak. However, the story that is told isn’t true. 

In reality, Persephone had snuck on a boat that floated on the Styx River. She had decided that she would no longer be bound to the underworld. She would have her freedom. Once on the surface, she cloaked herself, making sure her mother wouldn’t find her. For she wanted true freedom and that meant never catching her mother’s gaze.

With every breath, Persephone took, she brought its destruction. With every tear, she wept; she brought life to the land.  Her steps were time passing and when she stopped walking time itself had stopped. She sits in a meadow, her fingers interlaced not daring to touch anything. She takes a whiff of the meadow and basks in the sweet scent of flowers. Alone. That year the seasons were no more.