Dear Mother,
I miss you terribly. It is a dreadful life down here, if I can even call it that. I feel almost as if I were dead, living down here, along with the roaming, lifeless beings that are captives of the detestable Hades.
I have been miserable ever since the earth split open and Hades captured me, pulling me into a golden chariot. I should never have bent to pick that lovely flower, for it was a trap that he had set. I do not remember much of my journey here because I was in terrible shock. Now I am a bit calmer, but no less hateful toward Hades. However, as loathsome as he may be, he is to be thanked for one thing; I live (or, rather, I am captive) at an immense, shadowy castle with many miles of barren, blackened land that the dead, who I was so scared of at first, do not dare cross. Hades calls this place Erebus, and it is the deepest part of the Underworld.
At night, I can hear the fearful cries of the dead and the wing beats of the ghastly Erinyes, three hags with blood-red eyes, tangles of snake-like hair, and vile, razor-sharp teeth, yellowed from tearing at only Zeus knows what. They are ancient, even older than the gods. They fly, thrashing their murderous whips in the air, until they find a victim, whom they whip the flesh off of. I suspect they also return to earth to persuade people to commit suicide, for they often circle the shadowy palace and scream out their gruesome tales to Hades, who delights in them. Please do not worry Mother; I am safe with Hades, though he is not very reassuring.
I have tried many times to make friends with the beings here. When I first arrived, I tried to talk to Charon, the old boatman, but he was too busy rowing the boat that transports people out of earth, across the river Styx, and into Hades. There is a gate at the entrance that is guarded by a fierce, three-headed dog, named Cerberus. He kills any mortals that try to pass, but he treats gods no different than the spirits that enter by the millions every day.
The dead are very strange to me. I am used to their presence now, but I have yet to figure out much about them. Hades has let me wander around in the Underworld, and I am glad of it; the dark, cheerless palace is good to get out of, as spacious as it is. It was on one of these outings when I had my first encounter with a dead person. He looked like a normal person, but, strangely, I could not tell how old he was, and he had a vacant manner about him. I tried to talk to him, but his blank eyes just stared through me.
Suddenly, he started talking very rapidly in a frightened voice, saying, "The Eumenides are coming, the Eumenides are coming!" After hearing his scared tone, I left, wondering about what was coming, but too afraid to wait and see. I later found out that he was referring to the Erinyes, but the dead fear them so much they call them the Eumenides, which means "Kindly Ones". It appears that Hades' power is largely based on fear.
Hades is really the worst thing about the Underworld. I can see why he never has guests. He is fiercely possessive and jealous of the other gods, who live in beautiful palaces on Mount Olympus. In a way I feel sorry for him, but I have to say my contempt for him overrides my pity. He relishes torture, delights in grotesque stories, and gloats over each new arrival to Hades like a child with a new puppy. Does he feel no shame in capturing me? He is obviously pretending not to see my misery, but he knows it is there. His talk about the dead makes me sick, for he is very pessimistic and emphasizes the dreary details, falling into the gloomy state of mind in which he so often lives.
I have actually learned a lot from being in Hades, gloomy as it is. I know that most of the dead are in Tartarus, a shadowy place shaded by black poplars, where they await their judgment by three judges. Most of the dead are judged to be not too good, but not too bad, so they are sent back to the Field of Asphodel in Tartarus. Those of special virtue who please the gods go to the Elysian Fields, where there is always a party going on and music playing on the street. The people sent to the Elysium have the choice of being reborn on earth again. If three times they were born on earth, and three times they arrived at the Elysium (there was still the danger of not being virtuous enough and being sent back to Tatarus), then they would be sent to the Isles of the Blest. That is the best place in Hades because it is paradise for the dead. It has beautiful houses and delicious foods, and life there is not so much different than that on earth.
I find myself always searching for living things that will remind me of the world above. Once, I followed a sparkling stream running over the black rock. I followed it downstream to a place where it tumbled down dark rocks into bubbling whirlpools of blackish-blue. I could see that the stream got deeper further on, so I kept following it. Quite suddenly, I came upon a poor man with a horrible punishment. He was set chin-deep in the stream, and whenever he tilted his head to take a drink from the clear water, it seemed to shrink away from him. I wondered what bad thing he had done to anger the gods, for this was no ordinary punishment. I tried to talk to him, but his mouth was too parched from the never-ending thirst placed upon him by the gods for him to speak. I scooped up some water in my hands to give to him, but it, too, shrunk away when he tried to drink. I later learned from Hades that his name was Tantalus.
Another time I wandered toward a gigantic hill, hoping to find some kind of plant life. Instead I found a man rolling a massive boulder uphill. I watched from a distance at first, so as not to be rude, but then I was drawn closer, interested in the man's grueling task. What could he possibly use this rock for, once he gets up the hill? I remember thinking when he was about halfway up. But just then, I heard a grinding sound like something slipping, and then a thundering sound, and as I watched, the boulder rolled downhill crazily, shattering smaller rocks and leaping over large ones. It finally came to a stop at the base of the hill, many yards below us. The man, whose name was Sisyphus, just acted like this happened all the time and started downhill to begin the laborious task of rolling the rock uphill again. I learned later that that was his punishment. He has to roll that stone over and over up the hill, but it never reaches the top. Halfway up, the stone always breaks loose and rolls all the way back down to the bottom.
Mother, it is so gloomy here. I am always searching for color, but I find none except for the deep, black shadow that lies in so many places in Hades. I think about you every day, and try to imagine what you are doing at the moment. I am trying to remember the good things in life, and hold onto them, but it is very hard when I am in Hades. I think Hades' sullen attitude is influencing me; I am starting to feel depressed. But I will always try to be happy, no matter how much Hades sulks. I will think of you, mother, every day until it is time for me to come home to the world I know and love, away from this miserable place.
Your loving daughter,
Persephone
I miss you terribly. It is a dreadful life down here, if I can even call it that. I feel almost as if I were dead, living down here, along with the roaming, lifeless beings that are captives of the detestable Hades.
I have been miserable ever since the earth split open and Hades captured me, pulling me into a golden chariot. I should never have bent to pick that lovely flower, for it was a trap that he had set. I do not remember much of my journey here because I was in terrible shock. Now I am a bit calmer, but no less hateful toward Hades. However, as loathsome as he may be, he is to be thanked for one thing; I live (or, rather, I am captive) at an immense, shadowy castle with many miles of barren, blackened land that the dead, who I was so scared of at first, do not dare cross. Hades calls this place Erebus, and it is the deepest part of the Underworld.
At night, I can hear the fearful cries of the dead and the wing beats of the ghastly Erinyes, three hags with blood-red eyes, tangles of snake-like hair, and vile, razor-sharp teeth, yellowed from tearing at only Zeus knows what. They are ancient, even older than the gods. They fly, thrashing their murderous whips in the air, until they find a victim, whom they whip the flesh off of. I suspect they also return to earth to persuade people to commit suicide, for they often circle the shadowy palace and scream out their gruesome tales to Hades, who delights in them. Please do not worry Mother; I am safe with Hades, though he is not very reassuring.
I have tried many times to make friends with the beings here. When I first arrived, I tried to talk to Charon, the old boatman, but he was too busy rowing the boat that transports people out of earth, across the river Styx, and into Hades. There is a gate at the entrance that is guarded by a fierce, three-headed dog, named Cerberus. He kills any mortals that try to pass, but he treats gods no different than the spirits that enter by the millions every day.
The dead are very strange to me. I am used to their presence now, but I have yet to figure out much about them. Hades has let me wander around in the Underworld, and I am glad of it; the dark, cheerless palace is good to get out of, as spacious as it is. It was on one of these outings when I had my first encounter with a dead person. He looked like a normal person, but, strangely, I could not tell how old he was, and he had a vacant manner about him. I tried to talk to him, but his blank eyes just stared through me.
Suddenly, he started talking very rapidly in a frightened voice, saying, "The Eumenides are coming, the Eumenides are coming!" After hearing his scared tone, I left, wondering about what was coming, but too afraid to wait and see. I later found out that he was referring to the Erinyes, but the dead fear them so much they call them the Eumenides, which means "Kindly Ones". It appears that Hades' power is largely based on fear.
Hades is really the worst thing about the Underworld. I can see why he never has guests. He is fiercely possessive and jealous of the other gods, who live in beautiful palaces on Mount Olympus. In a way I feel sorry for him, but I have to say my contempt for him overrides my pity. He relishes torture, delights in grotesque stories, and gloats over each new arrival to Hades like a child with a new puppy. Does he feel no shame in capturing me? He is obviously pretending not to see my misery, but he knows it is there. His talk about the dead makes me sick, for he is very pessimistic and emphasizes the dreary details, falling into the gloomy state of mind in which he so often lives.
I have actually learned a lot from being in Hades, gloomy as it is. I know that most of the dead are in Tartarus, a shadowy place shaded by black poplars, where they await their judgment by three judges. Most of the dead are judged to be not too good, but not too bad, so they are sent back to the Field of Asphodel in Tartarus. Those of special virtue who please the gods go to the Elysian Fields, where there is always a party going on and music playing on the street. The people sent to the Elysium have the choice of being reborn on earth again. If three times they were born on earth, and three times they arrived at the Elysium (there was still the danger of not being virtuous enough and being sent back to Tatarus), then they would be sent to the Isles of the Blest. That is the best place in Hades because it is paradise for the dead. It has beautiful houses and delicious foods, and life there is not so much different than that on earth.
I find myself always searching for living things that will remind me of the world above. Once, I followed a sparkling stream running over the black rock. I followed it downstream to a place where it tumbled down dark rocks into bubbling whirlpools of blackish-blue. I could see that the stream got deeper further on, so I kept following it. Quite suddenly, I came upon a poor man with a horrible punishment. He was set chin-deep in the stream, and whenever he tilted his head to take a drink from the clear water, it seemed to shrink away from him. I wondered what bad thing he had done to anger the gods, for this was no ordinary punishment. I tried to talk to him, but his mouth was too parched from the never-ending thirst placed upon him by the gods for him to speak. I scooped up some water in my hands to give to him, but it, too, shrunk away when he tried to drink. I later learned from Hades that his name was Tantalus.
Another time I wandered toward a gigantic hill, hoping to find some kind of plant life. Instead I found a man rolling a massive boulder uphill. I watched from a distance at first, so as not to be rude, but then I was drawn closer, interested in the man's grueling task. What could he possibly use this rock for, once he gets up the hill? I remember thinking when he was about halfway up. But just then, I heard a grinding sound like something slipping, and then a thundering sound, and as I watched, the boulder rolled downhill crazily, shattering smaller rocks and leaping over large ones. It finally came to a stop at the base of the hill, many yards below us. The man, whose name was Sisyphus, just acted like this happened all the time and started downhill to begin the laborious task of rolling the rock uphill again. I learned later that that was his punishment. He has to roll that stone over and over up the hill, but it never reaches the top. Halfway up, the stone always breaks loose and rolls all the way back down to the bottom.
Mother, it is so gloomy here. I am always searching for color, but I find none except for the deep, black shadow that lies in so many places in Hades. I think about you every day, and try to imagine what you are doing at the moment. I am trying to remember the good things in life, and hold onto them, but it is very hard when I am in Hades. I think Hades' sullen attitude is influencing me; I am starting to feel depressed. But I will always try to be happy, no matter how much Hades sulks. I will think of you, mother, every day until it is time for me to come home to the world I know and love, away from this miserable place.
Your loving daughter,
Persephone