Greek Tragedy

The Athenian sun dripped slowly into the Aegean Sea behind the backdrop of the Spartan city. Rhea watched the transformation as the ocean absorbed the light and color of the sun, the two distinct objects becoming one. The water expanded the light. Then the ocean swallowed the sun.

A rumble of the closing market brought her back to her surroundings. The mutterings of old men as they closed up shop. The smell of the fish ware. The sea air brought a reprieve from the fish stench.

She ripped her gaze from the sunset and continued on her journey toward the temple. She was greeted by a priestess, whose gaze lingered at the imperceptible bump in Rhea’s belly. The priestess knew why she had come, but didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she gestured Rhea through the doorway and past the curtain.

They passed the altar where a statue of Demeter, the fertility goddess, rested, surrounded by pots of sweet smelling oils. Rhea looked up at the rafters, down at the stone floor, anywhere but at the eyes of the motherly statue.

The priestess took her to a back room and sat her down.

“Do you know what’s going to happen?” asked the priestess.

“My sister said you give me a potion to swallow.”

“Yes. I’ll go begin mixing it now—it takes awhile to set—and then I’ll return to explain the rest of the procedure.”

Rhea was left with her thoughts. She felt afraid and thought of the flight, when she was taken, when things were never the same. Since then—since finding out she was with child—she’d considered all of the options and realized that she couldn’t have this child, wouldn’t. It wasn’t hers to have.

She’d seen her sister’s child and saw how much love the mother had for the child. But how long would that last? How long until the two beings united would then separate forever, one consuming the other.

She took a deep breath.

When the priestess returned, Rhea was gone.

The ocean swallowed the sun.

////

by Annie
first line by James Juchau