1992-94
We named my little sister Persephone, after the goddess of the seasons, but we called her Persey for short. She was extremely pale, and she had wide dark eyes and onyx black hair. Our family grew up in a small suburb in Colorado.
She was born a few weeks too early, and because of that she had extremely weak lungs. When she got older, she developed terrible asthma and got sick very easily.
When Persey was around two months old, she had to go to the hospital to be treated for RSV. She was put in a glass case with tubes and wires coming off of her, so she would get enough oxygen and they could monitor her heartbeat. When we had to take her back home, her crib had to be in our parents' room, so they could quickly take her back to the hospital in case she had trouble breathing again.
There was one terrifying week when her heart needed an operation. This was really rough on me and my parents. A lot of times during the week they found me up late at night, usually curled up on the couch with my hands in my lap, staring at the TV which was turned off. Then they'd assure me that everything was going to be okay, and force me back to bed, where I would still be awake for hours. Even though they would've never be honest about it, I understood anyway: if anything went wrong with the operation, Persephone could've died.
She did survive, however, and within another week she was doing much better. I sat by her crib more often, just in case. Most of the time I would read to her. I was obsessed with Greek mythology, so I would check out numerous library books about the Greek gods on Mt. Olympus, the Underworld, stories of Orpheus and Medusa and Aphrodite (and Persephone, of course), and I would take them home to read for her.
Persey loved when I read to her. It helped calm her down whenever she was crying, and it seemed to help her horrible coughing fits as well. By the time she was able to sit up in her crib, she would smile and laugh at me whenever I came with a book.
Persephone was incredibly smart for someone so young. Once her lungs grew stronger, she was able to say her first word: Zander (my name) and she could speak in almost complete sentences a few months later. Persey learned and mastered the alphabet in a couple of weeks, and she was able to read Dr Seuss books aloud with terrific clarity. My parents wanted to quickly get her to a preschool, or anything that would accommodate for her growing intelligence.
But Persey didn't get along with kids her age. Whenever she went to a new preschool, she would usually come home with a bloody nose or bruises all over her arms. Apparently, other kids would judge her because she kept to herself, and that would make her angry. She didn't know how else to respond to the kids' rude remarks, so she would fight them until she got in trouble. Persey had been kicked out of three preschools before she turned four.
My parents were furious with her. They would yell at her every time she was sent home, always about how they had high hopes that she would've been accepted, and that she would be punished if she got in trouble for fighting again. But despite their anger, they were always saddened for their daughter that had such a rough time fitting in.
"It's so hard for me..." Persephone said when I put her to bed. "I like by myself, why they mean because of it? Why laugh and call me stupid? Am I stupid?"
"No," I said. "You're very smart, Persey. They're the stupid ones because they laugh at you for being different."
"I hate it," Persey said, furrowing her little black eyebrows. "I wish they stop. I try beat them up, I dunno what else."
"You should just ignore them. They're stupid, they don't matter. Now, what do you want me to read?"
Eventually, my mom and dad decided that preschool wasn't right for Persey. But they didn't want to keep her from learning. So they taught both of us how to write stories and poetry, and that became our new hobby. Some of them were free-verse poems we made off the top of our heads, some were science fiction stories about traveling to different planets and meeting aliens, but most of our stories were inspired by the Greek myths we used to read about.
Persey was especially fond of writing about the Underworld, where her namesake lived. We would make the heroes of our stories fight Cerberus at the Underworld gates, wander through the Fields of Punishment and the Vale of Mourning, and eventually they would reach the palace of Hades and Persephone at Elysium, where they ate pomegranates and lived eternally in paradise.
I've kept some of our stories, especially the ones we've wrote when our writing improved. Sometimes I read them late at night, when I can't sleep again...
...
Author's Note: This chapter is a slight nod to David Almond's book, Skellig. I looked to this book for reference a lot when I wrote it.
YOU ARE READING
Through the Acheron
General Fiction[Formerly Persephone's Death Wish} Zander was seven years old when his little sister Persephone was born. A few weeks later, he had to go to his first funeral. His first experience with death left him mystified and overwrought, fearful that when h...
