Persephone and Hades

I

She spent many hours each day running her lithe fingers through the tall grass, encouraging tiny blooms to sprout from the wet soil. She did not see this as a duty — as a chore — but more as a game, perhaps even as a piece of artwork that only she could create. For no one else could coax the flowers from their beds quite like Persephone.
Tiny stems seemed to grow from her wrists as she bent to examine a bunch of crocuses. She marvelled at their colours, the blues and purples and golds that were so vivid they were like the pigment of gemstones placed expertly on the petals.

The snap of a twig, the caw of a black-feathered bird not common to the area, and the immediate dimming of the sun though there were no clouds in the sky alerted her to something she could not quite describe. She shielded her eyes against the sun and watched the bird fly overhead, its call echoing in the field. She brought her gaze down toward a copse of trees resting a good ways off the path.

A figure stood between the branches, entwined like fingers and hands and tangled like hair, leaves red and brown and brittle as if Spring had not yet touched them. He was shadowed, but she knew he watched her. Intrigued by his attention, Persephone continued her dance, but was careful to place a bit more emphasis on the sway of her hips, the bend of her waist, and the way her arms curved up to the sky, hands meeting gently.

He watched her, his lips parted, his eyes wide — she was a vision of beauty, the breath of life that brought Spring to the world. He could not take his eyes away from her as she moved among the tall blades of grass. He was rooted in place, stuck within those bare branches, hiding behind the brittle leaves. Only when she dipped below the horizon of grass could he stand to move his eyes away. He turned, ready to leave the maiden to her frolicking when he heard a soft hum.

She was humming to herself, hoping to catch the man's attention from behind the copse of trees. She lay on the damp earth, surrounded by grass nearly as tall as she was. As she stared through the swaying blades, she felt her eyes grow heavy, her breath slow — she closed her eyes and drifted into a light sleep. The warmth of the sun covered her in a blanket of comfort as she traipsed through the fields of her dreams.

He moved like shadows over the ground, sailed like ink over the waves of grass. He found her lying on the wet earth, the copper strands of her hair catching the sunlight, enticing little red flowers to grow, tangled in the shining threads. He stood over her, his heartbeat audible, his breath shallow and quick. He longed to touch her, to run one thin, pale finger down her cheek — to feel the warmth and life within her seep through her skin to heat his own.

He bent on a single knee and placed his hand against her skin; the warmth that flowed through her to him was hot, a fire beneath his fingertips. The longer he kept his hand on her cheek, the warmer he grew, until he felt alive and, for the first time is so long, he felt whole and complete and at peace. But those feelings did not last, for as he looked at her fair face he saw the colour leaving her skin. He realized that something as simple as his touch was draining the fair Persephone of her life. He drew his fingers away, appalled at himself. Fearful of being observed beside the maiden, he dropped a single white asphodel flower beside her resting body and turned away from her.

He left Persephone as the sounds of her friends and childhood playmates, Eirene and Eunomia, raced down the path, searching for her. He found himself back in the copse, close enough to hear the murmurs of the girls as they woke Persephone from her sleep — close enough to hear them gasp at the sight of the white flower he had left for her; close enough to realize that he had made a mistake in leaving her that one, simple gift. Defeated, he waved his hand over the ground beside him, opening a chasm into which a staircase descended. Taking one last look at Persephone as she stood from her bed of grass and earth, he felt the warmth of her life in his heart and the weight of her gaze on his back as he was submerged in the darkness.