The Taking of Persephone

She loved the evening sun. Those peaceful moments when the afternoon submitted to the evening and the sky burst forth in brilliant oranges and reds, bold yellows and deep pinks, dark purples, passionate blues and then black that enveloped the sky around her as she lay on the warm earth. She loved to watch as each star winked into existence, as if she were witnessing their birth anew everyday. She loved the sound of the cicadas, loud and persistent. the birds fading, the quiet encroaching. She loved the peace that spread like butter on a slice of warm bread and created a new world.

A safe world.

She felt safe here. On her bed of flowers and leaves, weeds, reeds, petals, and thorns that didn't poke. She felt safe under the blanket of darkness and stars and the quiet music of birds and bugs and silence. a warm blanket. The breeze that turned cool. That shuffled the reeds and seeds and petals and thorns. That stirred the petals beneath her head and that pulled the grass from her fingers when she held them to the stars, as if in offering.

And then the ground moved, just slightly. Just enough that she shifted on her bed of petals and leaves, because the ground had moved just so as to be uncomfortable in the small of her back, but it happened in such a way that it was unnoticeable.

And then the ground grumbled, uncomfortable, because it was being forced into and new and unfamiliar position, but she didn't know that, as she gazed up at the moon.

And then the ground groaned, as a crack formed. and she still did not notice because the song of the wind was singing for her.

She held out her hand, in which she held a seed, and held it toward the rising moon as if in offering. a morning glory barely had the chance to bloom, before the ground split and a horse burst forth. And on the horse a man.

A dark and beautiful man.

And then he grasped her outstretched hand.

And then her green eyes met his golden red eyes.

And then she was swallowed by the earth.

And Persephone was taken.