Picking Pomegranates

Hauntings

1

Hauntings

Trees swept by her as she ran, going faster than was humanly possible. Pebbles and twigs stabbed into her bare feet as she ran, though she barely noticed. She just had to get away. If she slowed, they would catch her. If she slowed... she would die.

The cave. She needed to reach the cave. That was what was important. She had to get back to him. Her beloved... her husband.

“Hades...” she cried out, though it came out in a mere croaked whisper. Her vocal chords were locked in fear.

There! There was the cave! It was in site! Just a little further....

Sudden pain exploded in her scalp, and she was jerked back by her hair.

“HADES!” she screamed.

Spring Lawrence woke up screaming the name of a Greek god, and her body drenched in a cold sweat. She sat up in bed, throwing the cotton sheets back. She drew her legs up to her chest, her knees brushing against her bare breasts.

She always felt more comfortable dressed in the nude. It felt more... natural. If she had to go out in public, she always wore loose fitting dresses. If it was winter, she rarely went outside. Winter and fall reminded her of sadness. Spring and summer made her feel alive and filled with joy.

Winter... she always got a dull ache in her heart during winter. Like she had lost something she couldn't get back.

She raised a shaking hand to her head, running her fingers through her shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair. She had been having the same dream for a month now, ever since winter started. She always woke up screaming a mythical deity’s name and chill bumps along her body.

It's that stupid thesis, she thought to herself. If I keep putting it off, then I am never going to get it done and these nightmares will continue. The dreams are just a manifestation of my worry that I'm not going to get it done.

Sighing, she threw the sheets off her body, then frowned when she noticed how cold it was in the room. Strange... she knew that she had turned the heat on before she had went to bed. It was so cold that she could see her breath. Icy chill slipped into her bones, and she felt as if someone was watching her.

“H---hello?” she called out, her voice standing out in the dark stillness of her bedroom.

Persephone...

A mere whisper, but it wasn't even the voice that scared her.

It was that it was whispered in her mind.

Sweet child of Spring... won't you come out and play....

Fear squeezed her heart in its mighty fist, and she felt her breath quicken. It was a sensation that was all to familiar to her.

An anxiety attack.

They had afflicted her since she had entered puberty. It had all began on her thirteenth birthday. She was walking home from school, unknowing that her parents had put together a surprise birthday party for her. She had walked through her front door, thinking they could go and see a movie. What she found had spurred an anxiety attack so fierce, that doctors were surprised she didn't go into complete and utter shock.

There were balloons, purple for her favorite color. Streamers hanging from the ceiling, and a birthday cake with candles lit.

They were red candles, she remembered. The wax had been dripping as if they had been lit for a while. The red almost matched the color of her parents blood on the white carpet.

The police insisted that it was a failed burglary, that the murderer had panicked and shot them in a state of fear.

From then on, Spring had nightmares. Horrifying dreams of blood and darkness. Which was why she, at the ripe age of 21... still used a nightlight.

She leaned over and flipped on her bedside table, and the chill slipped from her bones and her breathing slowed when she noticed that there was no one in the room with her. It seemed her overactive imagination got the best of her again.

She sighed, and stepped out of bed, grabbing her robe off the carpeted floor and slipping it on. She gasped in genuine pleasure at the warmth of the terry cloth robe, and then realized it should have been as cold as the rest of the room.

Shaking her head at her silliness, she padded across the carpet to her bedroom door. Opening it, she stepped out into the hallway and the carpet beneath her feet turned into hardwood. Walking a little faster so her bare feet wouldn't be irritated by the cold wood, she practically skipped down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Spring walked into the kitchen, fixing a early morning snack of milk and cookies. She proceeded to carry them into the living room, where the soft glow of her computer's screen saver beckoned her. There was no point in getting anymore sleep if she was to be plagued by nightmares. Might as well work on her thesis. She gracefully sat on the lumpy couch, which to be honest, was probably older than she was.

She set her snack down carefully, trying not to spill any milk on her new computer. She had saved up a month's tips to get it, and she was damned if anything was going to happen to it. She only wished her tips had come from a being a waitress... but they hadn't.

In order to pay the bills and keep her self in school... she did other things for tips. Like stripping. Though not fully nude, it still made her feel dirty and used. She had been walked over her entire life... why should now be any different?

She regretted that thought as soon as she thought it. Her grandmother hadn't walked over her. She had taken her in when no other relatives had. And now, she had her house. But right now, it felt as cold and barren as her soul. The house used to be filled with warmth and happiness. Memories assaulted her of baking cookies and bedtime stories. Those were no more.

  All that was left was a cold and empty house, with a woman that hadn't the faintest idea what she wanted to do with her life.

A/N:

COVER MADE BY THE LOVELY SAMMY... WHO THIS IS DEDICATED TO