Persephone (Jessica Lynn)

Hi, I’m Jess. As a child, my days consisted mostly of horseback riding and spending hours with my nose between the pages of fantastic classics like Jules Verne, Alexander Dumas, JRR Tolkien, and C. S. Lewis. I was always dreaming of fantasy worlds and characters all my own. As an adult, my life hasn’t changed much, except now I work to make my dreams a reality. With no college education, no mentorship, and no writing friends, beginning my path as a writer was an intimidating challenge, but I was determined to start a book. Then, in 2015, life did its best to knock me down. It wasn’t until the summer of 2018 that I joined the Twitter writing community for some advice on how to get my passion back. I didn’t consider my humble scribblings worthy of anyone’s notice. That was until I met a few of the wonderful scribes in the Pantheon. The friendship, the encouragement, and the experience I’ve gained from having such a skilled group of people all loving and sharing in my craft has boosted my confidence to new heights. These gods and goddesses have empowered me again and again, and now, I get the great honor of writing in their midst. I truly love Persephone and I look forward to telling her story. It holds many similarities to my own personal life of tragedy, romance, adventure and self-discovery. And as remarkable or unremarkable as you may find our ramblings, they’re here, real and raw for your pleasure.

Fever Dreams

The water droplets fell free from my nose and chin, and I opened my eyes slowly to stare down at my reflection. I looked paler than usual. A black tear dripped from the corner of my eye. I blinked. Perhaps my eyes were blurry? I rubbed them, then continued to stare. But my reflection only worsened.

The Search Begins

Take me to Arion. I willed the portal to open, and the bark began to peel away, revealing a small, glowing gateway. Taking one last hasty glance around me to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I stepped through. I re-entered the Grieving Gardens. Only now, they were deathly quiet. The children were gone. A soft nicker interrupted the stillness, and I turned to see Arion approach me. He set his muzzle against my hand, and I was glad for the kind greeting.

Bare Feet and Pomegranates

Giving of my time and efforts came so naturally to me. I’d seen no harm in it. At least, that’s how I used to be. I had eventually learned how my generosity could be used against me. And there was never enough that I could do to satisfy the needs of the mortals. Nor the immortals.

Arion’s Ire

I can’t remember the last time he’s wanted to run like this, I thought, slightly worried. But I saw no point in trying to slow the stallion down. His legs pounded away at the ground, and I could do little more than hope he would stay on the road until we cleared the Dead City. His desire for speed was absolutely ferocious. Luckily, I’d always liked to ride fast, and we had a lot of ground to cover.

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