Amnesiac
The first thing the pretty young woman was aware of when she opened her eyes was the throbbing pain in her head. It was particularly disturbing since she had never had a headache before. Or had she? She looked at the trees and buildings that surrounded her. There was no sense of recognition. Nothing seemed even remotely familiar to her.
Where am I?
The words formed in her head but not on her lips. The next question came unbidden.
Who am I?
Sadly, there were no answers to these questions.
There was a tickling sensation on the back of her head, and she reached up her arm to explore the location. When she withdrew her hand, she saw drops of blood staining her fingertips.
I'm hurt. What has happened to me? Is the injury serious?
More questions to which she had no answers.
"Are you all right, Miss?" a concerned passerby asked.
She looked at him from the park bench and replied truthfully, "I don't know."
"Is there someone I can call for you?" the Good Samaritan inquired, as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
"I don't know."
"Maybe you'd rather I call 911?"
"Who's that?" she asked, unfamiliar with the nation-wide emergency phone number.
"You've got quite a bump on your head," he observed after calling for an ambulance. "What happened?"
Tears came to the woman's eyes.
"I don't know."
"Don't cry. The EMTs will be here soon."
"Who are they?"
"Emergency medical workers," he explained.
Minutes later the peace and quiet of the park was shattered by the siren of an ambulance. The young woman was clearly frightened by the discordant wail and seemed ready to run.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just the ambulance."
"What have we got here?" a male EMT asked as he approached the park bench.
"I found this woman sitting here. She's got an injury on her head, and she seems disoriented."
"Let's have a look at that wound."
"What your name, Miss?" a second, female, EMT asked.
"I don't know," she replied.
"Do you remember anything about what happened to you?"
"No. My mind is a blank."
The female EMT looked up at the helpful stranger and told him, "Temporary amnesia is not uncommon with a head injury. She'll probably begin remembering things before we get to the hospital."
The male emergency worker returned to the ambulance to retrieve a gurney. Meanwhile the female helped the injured woman to her feet.
"Can you stand up?"
Just as the amnesiac was being secured to the gurney with safety straps, to protect her from any further injury during the ambulance ride, the people around her abruptly stopped whatever they were doing or saying.
"Holy shit!" the male EMT exclaimed. "Is that what I think it is?"
His female coworker nodded her head and replied, "It sure is. It's snowing ... in the middle of July!"
* * *
The five-mile trip from the park to the hospital took nearly three-quarters of an hour. The sudden, drastic change in weather was causing a panic in the small New England town. Cars were stopped on the roadways, and drivers were getting out of their vehicles to touch the glistening white flakes, for apparently, in this case, simply seeing was not necessarily believing.
"It was eighty-seven degrees just a few minutes ago," one skeptical truck driver exclaimed as he stood beside his rig, shivering from the rapidly falling temperature.
"Hey, I know you've never seen snow this time of year," the ambulance driver called, "but can you move your rig. I've got to get a woman to the emergency room."
Slowly the ambulance made its way to the hospital. All around the town people were running out of their homes, some in a state of wonder, others in fear.
"It's the end of the world!" one woman cried and fell to her knees to pray.
When the ambulance finally reached the hospital, the EMTs were confronted with another unusual situation. The emergency room, which was normally a place of controlled chaos, was strangely quiet. Since it was a relatively slow afternoon, most medical personnel were in the waiting room, crowded around the television, watching CNN.
"What's going on here?" the male EMT asked one of the nurses after the injured woman was taken to triage.
"Didn't you notice the snow?" she replied.
"Yeah, but I didn't think it would make national news."
"It's not just snowing here in New England; it's snowing everywhere!"
"So much for global warming," one of the hospital orderlies noted.
The freakish snowstorm immediately became fodder for political figures. Those on the left saw it as proof that man's lack of concern for the environment was indeed affecting the planet's climate, while those on the right saw it as a sign from God: a warning against what they considered morally questionable practices such as same-sex marriage, socialism, abortion and atheism.
"I can just imagine what they're saying on Fox news," the female EMT laughed.
"I'm sure they're blaming it all on President Obama," her male coworker replied, "just like they do everything else."
While the two EMTs followed the commentary on television, neither noticed the unknown patient had gotten up from the gurney and walked out of the building.
* * *
As the amnesiac strolled aimlessly down Main Street, she was oblivious to the falling snow and the ensuing panic it caused. Then her blue eyes were drawn to an open area across the street from a group of tall buildings. Thinking it might be the park in which she had been discovered earlier, she walked across the street and entered through tall, black wrought iron gates.
Somewhere beneath the growing snowdrifts there was green grass, she instinctively knew. She walked to a flowering plant and brushed the snow from one of its blossoms.
"Poor little flower," she crooned. "You'll die from this cold weather."
Within moments, the woman felt the warmth of sunshine on her face. She looked up and saw that it had stopped snowing. The temperature began to rise as quickly as it had fallen.
As the unexpected taste of winter rapidly faded, a stranger sought out the young woman, who was still kneeling on the ground, her dress wet from the melting snow.
"What is this place?" the amnesiac asked the approaching stranger, a woman somewhat older than herself.
"Don't you know?"
"No, I don't. My memory seems to have failed me. I see grass, flowers, marble. I find it strangely comforting."
"It is a place of the dead," the older woman explained.
"Dead? I feel I should know that word, but I can't put a meaning to it."
"The dead are people who have died. They are no longer alive. You see, animals and plants have a limited lifespan. For instance, that flower you're holding will die soon. Its petals and leaves will wither and dry up."
"So this place of the dead is for flowers?"
"No. It is for dead humans. The flowers are used to decorate the graves."
"Graves?"
"When a human dies, he or she is often placed in a box and put in a hole in the ground, called a grave. The friends and family who mourn that dead human put flowers on the grave as a symbol of the love and grief they feel."
"Why do people grieve?"
"They mourn the loss of someone they loved, knowing they will never see him or her alive again."
"Did you come here to place flowers on the grave of a loved one?" the young woman asked.
"No. I came in search of my daughter. I was frantic with worry when she went missing, so I came in search of her."
"Did you find her?"
"Yes."
There was a serene expression on the older woman's face.
"She was lost, but thankfully I found her."
"Where is she?"
"Here, in this cemetery."
The young woman stood and looked around.
"I don't see anyone—just you and me."
Her eyes fell on the older woman's face and she saw love in her soft, brown eyes.
"Am I your daughter?"
When the woman nodded her head, the amnesiac felt a twinge of fear.
"Am I dead? Is that why I can't remember anything?"
"Don't you remember me or your father?"
"No," the daughter cried. "Where is he? Where is my father?"
"Your father is above," the mother answered cryptically.
"He is dead, too? Are you the only one left alive, or are you dead as well?"
"None of us is dead, my dearest. Death is a condition of mortals. Your father is a god, and you and I are goddesses. But none of that matters now. Let me take you back to ...."
The mother became silent when she noticed an unnatural darkness descending upon the cemetery. Throughout the small town, all human action stopped, and the people and cars stood as still as the statuary that adorned the graves.
"What is going on?" the frightened daughter asked.
Suddenly, a grave ten feet away opened and out of the ground sprang a strong, powerfully built man whose complexion was as white as the snow that had recently fallen. Despite his pale appearance, the man was handsome, and the young woman was attracted to him.
"You are safe!" he cried, taking the young woman's small hand in his own.
"Your skin is as cold as the snow that covered this flower," she noted. "Who are you?"
"I am Hades, your husband. I had thought you were safe with your mother, but when I learned about this unseasonable wintry weather, I knew such was not the case."
"I feared you had kept my daughter from me," the mother explained. "I was wrong, however. Apparently, while she was here on earth in mortal form, she sustained an injury to her head. Now she doesn't know who she is, and she doesn't know who we are either. We must take her to her father. Surely he will be able to restore her memory."
"I'm not sure that is the wisest course of action," Hades argued. "She has always been so innocent, so childlike. If Zeus gives her back her memory all at once, she may be overwhelmed."
"This Zeus you speak of," the girl asked, "is he my father?"
"Yes," the mother replied.
"What is my name?"
"You are Persephone. I am Demeter, your mother. I am the goddess of the harvest. Zeus, your father, is king of all the gods."
"And you, husband? Are you a god, as well, Hades?"
"Yes. I am the god of the underworld, king of the dead."
Persephone, who grew more confused with each new revelation, cried plaintively, "I wish I could remember."
Demeter called out for Zeus, and when the god appeared, Persephone was quite impressed by his commanding figure.
"What is it, sister?" he asked Demeter since Zeus, Hades and Demeter were all children of the Titan Cronus.
"It is our daughter, Persephone," the goddess explained. "She has lost her memory."
"How is that possible?"
"While assuming mortal form, she received a blow to the head."
Zeus inspected the bruise and then regally and loudly proclaimed, "Persephone shall come to Mt. Olympus. While she is recuperating from her injury, I will restore her memories."
"I don't think taking her to Mt. Olympus is necessary," Hades protested. "In fact, I think she ought to return to the underworld with me. I am her husband, after all. Who is better able to care for her?"
"I am," Demeter passionately declared. "The poor child needs a mother's care more than a husband's. Besides, it is time for her to be with me."
"Surely, your daughter's wellbeing is more important than our agreement."
"Enough!" the temperamental Zeus shouted angrily, as a lightning bolt rent the sky above him. "I distinctly remember settling that dispute eons ago. Let us not discuss who shall have possession of Persephone again."
Whether it was the lightning bolt, Zeus's anger or his words that stirred a spark in Persephone's mind is uncertain. Whatever the cause, a definite change overcame the amnesiac. The wound on her head faded as she made the transformation from human woman to goddess. Once back in her immortal form, Persephone fully regained her memory.
"Oh, my dear," her mother cried joyfully, "you are well again."
When the younger goddess looked at her mother, Demeter was taken aback by the fierce expression in her blue eyes. Something was still wrong with her daughter.
"Now that the girl has been restored to you," Zeus said, anxious to return to Mt. Olympus, "I don't think you need ...."
"Why must I be restored to my mother?" Persephone demanded to know.
The three other immortals stared at the angry goddess with disbelief. Then a smile appeared on Hades' face.
"See!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "She wants to be with her husband—as is natural."
"Natural for mortals, maybe," his wife corrected him, "but not for gods. Of course, everyone seems to forget that I'm a goddess and insists on treating me like a child."
Hades was stunned by her sudden insubordination. His wife had always been such a meek, obedient creature.
"Hush, dear one," Demeter crooned and then turned on Hades. "Can't you see she's upset? You're not making matters any better."
"Neither are you, Mother," Persephone cried, "or you, Father."
"What is wrong with you?" Zeus thundered, as another jagged lightning bolt raced across the sky. "Do you know who I am? How dare you speak to me in such a way!"
"Because I am a goddess, and yet you sentence me to divide my time between being a daughter and a wife. Well, I will have no more of it."
Despite his anger, Zeus felt a growing admiration and respect for his offspring. No one—except for Hera, his wife—dared defy him so.
"Tell me, what would you do if I were to change my mind?" the king of the gods inquired. "What if you did not have to live with either your mother or your husband?"
"I don't know," Persephone answered honestly. "But whatever I did, the decision would be my choice, not one that is made for me."
"Very well," Zeus said. "I release you from the agreement your mother, husband and I made. You are free to go your own way."
Demeter and Hades started to object, but Zeus's lightning bolts silenced them.
* * *
For the first time in her long life, Persephone was able to join in the social life of Mt. Olympus. Her mother, who had no choice but to honor Zeus's wishes, kept her distance.
As time passed, however, Persephone tired of the vain Aphrodite, the amorous Apollo, the belligerent Ares, the haughty Artemis, the aloof Athena, the drunken Dionysus, the jealous Hera and even her father, the quick-tempered Zeus. Life among the gods and goddesses was not as wonderful as she had once imagined it.
In a moment of boredom, Persephone turned herself into a radiantly plumed bird and took flight. When her wings grew weary, she took human form and again visited the cemetery where she'd recovered her memory. It was evening, and the sun was setting. The diminishing daylight made the atmosphere even more peaceful.
The heady scent of flowers and recently mowed grass reminded her of her mother, Demeter, and the cold marble of the monuments reminded her of Hades, her husband.
"You miss me, don't you?"
Persephone turned to see Hades' pale countenance glowing in the darkness.
"Yes, I ...."
"What's wrong?" her husband asked when he saw a look of fear on her beautiful face.
"I remember that day. It wasn't an accident. You struck me over the head. You tried to kill me."
Hades didn't bother denying her accusation.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I was tired of sharing you with your mother. As a goddess, you are immortal, but while in human form you are vulnerable. If you had died, you would have been sent to the underworld for eternity, and we would never have to part again."
"You would condemn me to death, to an existence below the ground, away from the sunlight, where I would grow pale and cold like you."
"I would do anything to possess you."
With an eerie rustling sound, more than a dozen graves opened, and the dead rose from their final resting places. Their skeletal remains surrounded Persephone, cutting off any possible escape route the goddess had. Hades took her hand and led her toward the open plot from which he'd emerged. She tried to break free of his grasp, but her strength was no match for his. Despite her protests, Charon ferried them both across the Styx and Acheron, and then Hades dragged his unwilling wife through the gates of the underworld.
Persephone keened at her terrible fate, and soon all the souls of the dead wept with her. Her lamentations were so great that Zeus and Demeter heard them high atop Mt. Olympus.
"That damned Hades!" Demeter cried. "He has abducted our daughter once again."
"He will pay the price for defying me!" Zeus said amidst a shower of lightning bolts.
* * *
Once Persephone was secure in his kingdom, Hades' heart softened and he took pity on his unhappy wife.
"Don't cry," he said soothingly. "I love you as no other mortal woman or goddess has ever been loved before."
"But what is love if I am kept here against my will?"
An explosion of light sent dead souls scurrying to the dark corners of hell. Insects and reptiles that had never seen the sun fled in terror. Hades shaded his eyes with one hand, while he tightly clutched Persephone's arm with the other.
"Brother," the king of the underworld greeted his uninvited guest.
"Don't remind me of our familial ties, Hades," Zeus bellowed. "I come here as your king, not your brother."
"You forget that your realm is the sky; I am king here."
"And because you are my brother, I will give you one chance to avoid my wrath. Release Persephone now."
"Neither you nor any other god or goddess on Mt. Olympus can make me give her up."
Zeus turned to his daughter.
"It is true that in his kingdom my power is not equal to his. Cerebus guards the gates, and I cannot free you. But you can free yourself."
Persephone's tear-stained face brightened with hope.
"How?"
"By choosing to end your life."
"I don't understand. This is the domain of the dead."
"The domain of dead humans. If you transform to a flower, you will die as a flower. Your petals will wither and crumble to dust. Since a flower has no soul, you will no longer be a prisoner here."
"You can't do this!" the god of the underworld shouted.
"Yes, she can," Zeus insisted.
"Don't, Persephone," Hades pleaded. "Am I that terrible a husband that you would prefer nonexistence to remaining here with me?"
The goddess leaned forward and kissed her husband's cheek. Moments later, the arm he had grasped so tightly in his hand turned into the thorny stem of a rose. The sharp prick of the thorn was no match for the pain Hades felt over the loss of the woman he loved.
* * *
Demeter waited impatiently for the return of her brother. When Zeus reappeared on Mt. Olympus, she demanded to know what punishment he had meted out to her son-in-law.
"You know I am powerless against him in the underworld," the god confessed and then broke the news of Persephone's death.
The earth literally shook with Demeter's anger.
"Hades abducted my daughter—for the second time—and yet she is the one who has paid the price, not him."
"I wouldn't say that," Zeus uttered with a bittersweet smile on his face. "I'm afraid our brother Hades will find himself a prisoner of his own kingdom. With Persephone gone, he will know unbearable grief that will not lesson with time. He will be surrounded by dead people, many of whom, like him, have been torn from someone they love. And their agony will intensify his own. Although a god, he will be the most wretched person in the universe."
While the prospect of her brother's eternal misery comforted Demeter, she still felt heartbreak at the loss of her daughter.
"He will not be alone in his anguish," she said, "for I must always mourn Persephone, too."
Zeus took pity on his sister, whose only crime was to love her child. He handed her a flower: a rose with petals as blue as Persephone's eyes.
"Here," he said in one of his rare moments of compassion, "I give you back our daughter."
Demeter took the rose and hugged it to her breast, despite the pain of its piercing thorns.
"Thank you, Zeus. Thank you, dear brother.
Salem once had amnesia, but he didn't forget where the dining room table was.
