| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
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| Written by Inez Schaechterle / Artwork by Holly Eddy |
| Down Under the Underworld, Birdies Sing |
Persephone Kore sat on a sunny Aegean hillside, tearing little blue flowers into tiny, ragged pieces. She was
supposed to be gathering them into the willow basket in her lap, to decorate one of her mother's altars.
Demeter saw nothing wrong with leaving offerings to herself--mortals responded nicely to psychology she
said, and the locals always backed a winner. Persephone's companions, a couple of Muses and one of the
Graces, danced on the hilltop above her, wearing daisy-chains in their hair. As far as Persephone was
concerned, the Muses and Graces were idiots.
Persephone had to stay with them whenever her mother was working, and Demeter's job had become year-
round ever since Zeus had put the northern and southern hemispheres on opposing schedules. Just like a
male, Demeter said, to force a whim on everyone else and not worry about the people--usually women--who
had to do the real work. For Persephone, it meant the Muses and Graces had been dragging her to hillsides to
dance and sing and root up flowers for what seemed like forever. They also talked incessantly about
hairstyles (Persephone wore a braid), which nymph was dating what mortal (Persephone deplored the
inherent inequality of immortal/mortal relationships), and dieting (Persephone tried to love her hips as they
were). Her differences with the Muses and Graces were not merely sociopolitical, however. When they got
tired of dancing and gossiping--not that they ever did, they were much too stupid to become bored--the
Muses and Graces got to go off and inspire mortals. Persephone wasn’t allowed to visit mortals. Her mother
didn’t want her associating with the lower classes.
Persephone pulled a honeyed beetle from her stash in the bottom of the basket and bit into it. Fig crème. She
spit the beetle out and reached for another. Pistachio nougat. Better, but even sneaking sweets forbidden by
her mother ('Remember, dear, grain is nature’s own candy!') was a pale victory. Her life was pointless. She
never got to do anything, never got to go anywhere. Being the child of a goddess seemed to mean being a
child forever. Her mother wouldn't let her help with the seasons, wouldn't allow her to attract worshippers,
wouldn't give her a whiff of power. On the other hand, at least she was better off than Eros--Aphrodite had
kept him in a diaper for the past millennium.
Sighing, Persephone reached for a white flower, squat and fat as a toad, and ripped it from the ground. With
a vicious twist, she tore away the petals. Nothing exciting ever happened to her.
With a crack like Zeus’s thunder and a shudder that trembled far oceans, the hillside split apart at her feet.
~*~
Demeter liked to think of herself as a peaceful, loving Goddess. Oh, sometimes she withered olive groves or
froze vineyards--there was nothing like a famine to keep worshipers on their toes. She was quite nice in
person, however, and interrogating the Grace and the two Muses bothered her. Really. Oh the other hand,
she wouldn’t have to hurt the poor dears if they weren’t so damned stupid.
“Tell me exactly what happened, Terpsichore.”
“Nothing happened,” Calliope said, not pointing out that she wasn’t Terpsichore, although anyone should be
able to tell them apart because Terpsichore wore her hair in ringlets, while Calliope favored spiral curls. Her
hair was shinier than Terpsichore’s, too, thanks to that marvelous new olive oil masque, and...
“Answer me!” Demeter pointed at the Grace, Euphrosyne, who lay sobbing on the stone floor of Demeter’s
temple, olives sprouting from her ears. “Think! Concentrate! Do you want to end up like her?”
“Um...Oh, Persephone.” Calliope tried to think without scrunching wrinkles into her face. “Well, we were
singing.”
“And dancing,” Terpsichore added, from her seat by the altar.
“Yes, dancing and singing. And Persephone was off somewhere, doing something. And then there was this
noise.”
“A loud noise,” Terpsichore said.
“Yes, a loud noise,” Calliope said with satisfaction. She and Terpsichore looked at Demeter.
“And?”
“That’s all,” Terpsichore said. Demeter glanced at her and suddenly she was thrashing about on the floor,
screaming. Her manicured fingernails had grown into long, curling vines, which flowered in an instant and
began producing enormous gourds.
Demeter turned to Calliope. “And?”
“And...and..." Calliope allowed her perfect brow to crease the teeniest bit. “And...Oh! The ground split open!”
“What else?”
“That’s all, really. That’s all I remember,” Calliope said. “Oh, hell,” she added as Demeter flicked a finger and
her golden hair transformed into stinkweed.
Demeter thought for a moment, ignoring the cries and moans of her daughter’s playmates. “Hell. You might be
right. Good girl!” She disappeared in an ethereal swirl of wheat chaff, removing her curses as she went.
~*~
Persephone stood in a cage. It was a nice cage, as cages went, spacious and furnished with a couch, a chair,
a table, and a vase of lilies. Every single item was black.
The man standing outside her cage was black as well, midnight black, from his eyes and his teeth and his skin
to his hair, his tunic, and his crown of dead laurel leaves. Even his voice was black, deep and soft like an
overripe plum.
“Are you certain?” he asked, for the third time.
“Yes,” Persephone said. She was certain, and not afraid at all. She had been frightened at first, on the hillside,
when Hades’ chariot had soared out of the cleft ground, pulled by two fierce horses so dark stars whirled
across their flanks. Hades had leaned out and scooped her up and held her tight inside the chariot, despite
her screams and struggles and blows with the willow basket. In an instant the horses wheeled across the sky
and plunged back into the dark fissure. The last thing Persephone heard before the earth snapped shut was
the singing of the Muses and the Grace. _Idiots , she’d thought.
Other than the abduction, however, Hades had been quite gentlemanly. Now he tapped the bars of the cage.
“You need not remain in this unpleasant confinement,” he said. “Marry me, and all of the Underworld will be
yours.”
Persephone’s gaze followed his sweeping gesture. The underworld he was offering included a large house,
columned and terraced and black as ebony. The house stood right behind the cage, and before them both
flowed the oily waters of the river Styx. Charon’s boat of skeletons bobbed near the far bank; the ragged old
man smoothed his patchy hair and waved when he noticed her looking at him. Beyond Charon’s boat slept the
hell-hound Cerberus, one of his huge heads and his back paws twitching in a dream. To the right of the
house, pale spirits wandered the gray Asphodel Fields, or floated down a long, narrow road signed: “To
Elysium Paradise. No Running.”
To the left of the house towered the misshapen black gates of Tartarus, the place of punishment. Above them
rose a hill of ash and Persephone could just see Sisyphus the tattletale pushing his boulder up the steep
incline before he lost his grip yet again and disappeared, screaming, beneath the rolling stone. In front of
Tartarus sat Tisiphone in her bloody robes, guarding the gates. She hissed at Persephone through needle-like
teeth.
“It’s a nice underworld,” Persephone said, “but really, I don’t want to marry you.”
Hades looked at the ground and kicked a bit of obsidian. “Oh.”
“What are you going to do now? With me?”
“I am going to keep you confined until your heart softens toward me.”
“I don’t think that will work,” Persephone said.
“We shall find out. The old ways are often the best.” A shy smile tried valiantly to light up Hades’ dark face. “I
would like to proffer you a gift,” he said. He slipped a small black box tied with inky ribbons between the bars
of the cage.
Twelve honeyed beetles glistened darkly inside the box. Persephone selected one--almond pomegranate
crunch, her favorite. It occurred to her Hades was really quite attractive, even if he wasn’t terribly modern.
He’d be perfect for one of the Muses...
“Wait a minute,” she said, swallowing the rich sweet. “Why me? Why did you pick me?”
“Because your peerless beauty outshines the sun.” Hades stretched one hand upward toward the dim fog
that roofed the underworld and flung the other dramatically toward Persephone, wincing as his knuckles rang
against the cage bars. “Your exquisite grace shames the, um, the Graces,” he said. “Also the nymphs. All of
them.”
Persephone raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, Hell,” Hades said. At this invocation, Charon, Cerberus, the spirits, Tisiphone, and all the damned in
Tartarus grew silent and looked at him. “As you were, everyone” he called. He turned back to Persephone. “I
am not adept at this kind of talk. Judging the dead requires absolute fairness and you are an intelligent young
goddess. Also, you are unmarried and,” he finished defiantly, “I like your braid!”
Persephone and Hades were smiling shyly at one another when Cerberus started barking. They looked across
the river and saw the great, three headed dog jumping in the air, snapping, yelping...chasing butterflies?
Bright green grass carpeted the far riverbank where the hell-hound frolicked. Charon’s garland-draped boat
sailed toward them across the frothy blue waters of the river Styx, Demeter standing in the bow. As the boat
touched the bank she stepped lightly ashore, grass and violets streaming from her feet to cover the ashy
ground. She raised her arms and pointed at Hades. Sparrows and wrens fell from her cloak to the ground,
shook their little heads, and bounded into the air to swoop through the apple trees that had sprung up in the
Asphodel Fields.
“Release my daughter.”
Hades strode toward Demeter, drawing himself up into an Ionic column of ebony dignity. The grass and
flowers that spread from her feet stopped short of his, blackening and curling like meadows at the edge of a
forest fire. A sparrow flew over his head and pitched lifeless to the ground. “You cannot bring mortal creatures
into the underworld,” he roared.
“I just did,” Demeter said.
As Hades and her mother argued, Persephone watched the grass and flowers and vines spread through
Hades’ dark realm. The pale spirits in the Asphodel Fields seemed frightened of the birds and the trees--they
huddled in the center of what was now a park, muttering. Vines overgrew the gates of Tartarus, wrenching
them open. The guardian, Tisiphone, had retreated to the top of a bronze column and was snapping her
needle-teeth at an enthusiastic stalk of kudzu. Sisyphus’ stone rested in a bed of sweetgrass atop his hill,
Sisyphus napping beside it. Other criminals of Tartarus--King Midas, Tantalus, and a pack of murderous-looking
titans--had slipped through the open gates and were quietly making their way up the path to the Elysium
Paradise. King Midas started to run, in defiance of the sign. Neither Hades nor Demeter noticed this escape.
Demeter was busy shaking bunnies out of her robe and Hades was blasting them into little rabbit corpses.
It was the gates of Tartarus, overcomes with vines, that gave Persephone the idea. Her cage stood on paving
stones, well away from Demeter's grass and violets, but the cracks between the stones were filled with the
underworld's ashy soil. Kneeling, Persephone shook the few remaining torn flowers and honeyed beetles out
of her willow basket. Setting the candy aside, she quickly pressed the flower stems and petals into the dirt-
filled crack nearest the cage door. Then she broke the basket over her knee and stuck a few willow canes into
the dirt as well.
Still kneeling, her fingers splayed along the crack and fingertips pressed into the earth, Persephone focused
on feeling her mother's power. Nothing. She concentrated more deeply, forcing her mind to block out Hades'
and Demeter's shouts and the sizzle-sound and blackened aroma of quick-fried rabbit.
There...a wisp of Demeter's power, a tendril of earthy green that must seek fruition. Persephone called the
power toward her, imagining the flower stems thickening and blossoming, the willow branches sending out
white roots and tender green leaves, and suddenly power was there, flowing not to her fingertips, but
through them, power growing from her center and spilling out into the world. She closed her eyes. She
opened her mouth. She took a deep breath, and then Persephone, obedient daughter of Demeter, discontent
playmate of the Muses and Graces, slightly softened abducted potential love-interest of the King of the
Underworld, shouted, “Stop!”
Everything stopped except King Midas. Just before he reached the Elysium Paradise, Cerberus bounded across
the river and ate him, a sheepish expression on two of his three faces. Tantalus and the Titans turned right
around and marched back to Tartarus.
Demeter and Hades stared at Persephone, who stood in the twisted remains of her cage, framed by three
enormous willow trees. Little blue flowers bloomed at her feet and golden pollen dusted her tunic.
Demeter was the first to recover. “You can’t marry him,” she snapped, and seconds later Hades said, “Please
do not leave me.” Both of them projected a desperate love. Both winced as a wren flew over Hades' head and
plopped to the ground, dead.
Persephone walked over to them, trailing morning glories. “I’m not going to marry him,” she said, and Hades
bowed his head. “But I can’t go home with you, either.”
The triumphant smile left Demeter’s face. “You ate something down here, didn’t you? I told you not to snack!”
Persephone looked up at Hades. He shrugged, as sheepish as Cerberus. “Should anyone consume a bite of
food in the underworld," he muttered, "they are bound to stay an equal number of months. Sorry.”
Persephone glared at both of them. “That’s not what I meant, Mother. I can’t go home with you because I’m
bored stiff and it’s time I started doing some goddessing. And I won’t marry Hades right now because that
would be condoning abduction and coercion.” She paused to let her words sink in. Demeter looked suspicious,
while Hades mouthed the words “right now” silently to himself.
“I’ve got an idea,” Persephone said.
~*~
Charon’s boat sailed surprising well on the open ocean. He stood amidships, poling steadily, and Persephone
stood in the bow, braiding up her hair. She’d just spent one month of twelve in the underworld, the price of
eating one honeyed beetle. She and Hades had talked and taken long walks together in the now-fertile ash.
He’d even let her judge a few souls. He really was very sweet and handsome, in a somber kind of way. Queen
of the Underworld wouldn’t be a bad job in two or three centuries, when she was ready to settle down. And
because the Muses and Graces were immortal, she’d never have to deal with them again.
Persephone readied herself as Charon’s boat approached the beach. It had taken her a while to talk Demeter
into sharing the duties of Earth Goddess, but now her mother seemed happy enough with the arrangement.
At this very moment, Demeter was spending the Grecian winter relaxing and socializing on Mount Olympus,
secure in the knowledge that Persephone was on the job.
Charon’s boat ground into the shallows and Persephone jumped lightly onto the sand. Grass and flowers
spread outward from her feet and her laugh summoned birdsong from the eucalyptus trees. Two kangaroos
hopped up to look at her curiously, then bounded off to enjoy the spreading warmth of spring.
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Inez Schaechterle lives in Storm Lake, Iowa, where she
teaches composition and creative writing at Buena Vista
University and co-habits with two dogs, two cats, and a parrot.
A graduate of Clarion West Writers Workshop, her story
“Passing Down” appears in Cthulhu Unbound 2 from Permuted
Press (2009).
Inez's story 'Passing Down' received an Honorable Mention in
Ellen Datlow's Best Horror of 2009 collection.
Check out her blog: http://sowingmildoats.wordpress.com
teaches composition and creative writing at Buena Vista
University and co-habits with two dogs, two cats, and a parrot.
A graduate of Clarion West Writers Workshop, her story
“Passing Down” appears in Cthulhu Unbound 2 from Permuted
Press (2009).
Inez's story 'Passing Down' received an Honorable Mention in
Ellen Datlow's Best Horror of 2009 collection.
Check out her blog: http://sowingmildoats.wordpress.com
