Persephone sat at the edge of a stone, alone.
She brushed against the premature flower buds; they tenderly pushed against her bronze skin.
At a distance stood a man, by his side a peculiar pup sat patiently, enticed by the benign damsel.
The pup, Cerberus, turned curious. He bound towards her, his three heads bouncing gleefully.
He leapt to her lap, playfully swatting his paws at her hands.
Persephone smiled, wrapped her arms around him; Cerberus’s heads responded with soft kisses.
The man, Hades, made his way over to Persephone and Cerberus.

Hades stood at the entrance of the Underworld, leaving Cerberus to guard his home.
Furtively, he snuck to Persephone’s home, a sequestered palace.
He tip-toed in--and when he picked her up, she opened her eyes.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes flashed darkly, her eyebrows furrowed.

Skirmishes brought Persephone back to the Underworld.
Refusing to speak to Hades, Persephone isolated herself, contemplating her options.
She recalled a legend-- if someone ate in the Underworld, they would stay forever.
This started a relentless cycle--Hades offered profligate meals, Persephone refused.
In the latter days of her fast, indolent, she neared accepting her fate.
Across the room, a bowl--overflowing with arils, the rest of the pomegranate discarded.
Persephone slipped over to the bowl, enticed by the glittering opaque shade of red.

Persephone ate six arils--doubled over in her grief, she wouldn’t return home.
Hades created a perennial happiness with Persephone--but her constant grief tired the fantasy.

Hades brought Persephone back to the surface--Persephone’s mother, Demeter, clasped her daughter to her chest--Persephone saw the world, nearly dead, slowly coming back to life.
She remembered what she had done and confessed.
The plants withered, Demeter knew that her daughter must remain in the Underworld.
Hades took pity, and negotiated six months above ground, and six months in the Underworld.
Persephone agreed.