Gehenna - Ode to Persephone - Chapter 1 "A Provencal Holiday"

Chapter One

A Provencal Holiday

July was nearing its final curtain. The time for the season of tourists and sightseers to host its last few nights of bustling parties. Time for the starry-eyed crowds to reawaken to the real world and return to the humdrum of their normal lives – or at least most. For many this otherworldly magic had become a lifestyle, in many ways a religion; transforming this once ordinary place into a site of devout pilgrimage.

The French Riviera had proven itself to be far more than anyone believed, particularly anyone currently here at the Chateau la Chevre D’or. It was an immensely magical place, not unlike the destinations one could only hope to behold in a painting, usually hung in the luxurious lounges of people who hoped, mayhaps, to go there one day before they died. A haven out of a dream. A stolen aesthetic of something on the silver screen. The vision of a medieval chateau resurrected into spectacular reality just in time for the twentieth century. A monument to lavish living, teetering on a cliff’s edge, like a bastion of hope, making its glorious address to anyone looking to take refuge from the usual hordes of rubberneckers that advanced upon this part of France every year; allowing those lucky enough to be its guests nothing but a grand otherworldly view of the coastal panorama from their hidden cocoon-esque terraces and sun decks. A sanctuary where they could lap up the extraordinary, almost, supernatural luminosity and kaleidoscopic colors of the real French Riviera, in privacy that rivaled the first Garden.

And, somehow, the universe saw fit to bless Evangeline with the pleasure of visiting this spectacular place in person. She still wasn’t completely certain how or why she had become so lucky. Perhaps the powers that be decided she deserved some kind of respite after all of the hell she was forced to walk through these last few years. Or, maybe, someone felt it was time to remind her there was actually something more to life than getting the rug pulled out from under one’s feet – even if it was for just a brief moment.

Evangeline felt life had finally returned to some semblance of its former simplicity, where she was concerned in the grand scheme of things. Although, it was a mere shadowy silhouette, at present, of the simplicity it had once been. She was finally allowed to return to what she felt was her rightful place of being a quiet no one, and this is how she preferred things to be. To live a life in silent solitude, far away from prying eyes or bustling crowds. A life where she could safely live overshadowed by the eclipse of a flashier more distracting person. It was for this reason she decided to accept the job as companion for Mrs. Fortescue, her human shield from a poking and prodding world that only saw her as a source of something to talk about and pity. Granted, Mrs. Fortescue did her fair share of that, as well. However, Evangeline found being mentioned a time or two as if she were not sitting there to be tolerable; especially, since it didn’t result in receiving a pitying stare. She couldn’t stand that anymore, the pity. She experienced enough of that while she was at home, it was the reason she left. The sympathetic glances that lingered just a bit too long, like their awkward disingenuousness seemed to cling to her skin in a way.

Here she was invisible and getting paid handsomely to be so. What more could a girl ask for? Getting to flit around exotic places with all of your expenses paid, and your only requirement is to make someone feel slightly less alone. Of course, it sometimes required a little more than that, but it was never anything too terribly extreme. A little secretarial work here and there, some light shopping, and playing nursemaid to a grown woman. A lady whose right to be called “middle-aged” had long expired, though, she insisted she was still a card-carrying club member, who at the slightest sign no one thought she was the center of the universe, would suddenly fall ill. And, continue in her descent to the near brink of death, until you told her some well-to-do person had been making a fuss about her absence. This was the only cure. God forbid, if she were actually to become sick, then no one would believe her.

Evangeline lifted her head momentarily to feel the gentle caress of sun warmed wind on her pale delicate cheeks. Mrs. Fortescue told her she needed to put a little more color into her countenance, so it didn’t appear like the pallor of a ghostly child someone might find haunting an old mansion somewhere. The crispness of the sea air filled her nostrils along with the scent of distant fragrant gardens saturated with the aroma of jasmine, roses, and a wealth of various Provencal herbs. The swirling smells and gentleness of the sun that dappled the slowly swaying water beneath her like a thousand tiny diamonds on aquamarine chiffon, only served to remind her how different things really were for her now. This was a great departure from the dirty streets of post-World War London, with its gray skies and its constant, incessant, cold rain. No matter what time of the year you found yourself in there, without fail, Mother Nature would somehow find a way to show you she could indeed fit all four seasons into a single day. That is, however, just as long as you decided to live in Great Britain, of course. Evangeline wondered if it was that way anywhere else in the world. Until now, she had never been any further than Kent, and the thought of even crossing the pond to the American Continent, or anywhere else, was just a distant fantasy she held on to as a child. A daydream created by hand painted picture postcards, shining like a beacon of hope against the backdrop of her dreary surroundings. She dreamed it was something she might do with her husband for a holiday one year to impress all of their friends.

When Evangeline was much younger, this was not at all the life she had imagined for herself. In many ways, she feared her future was destined to be as bleak as her aforementioned surroundings. Her life started out quite modestly, from what she can remember being told, she was born to an older couple who never expected they would be blessed with children. This was until one day they miraculously discovered her mother, Helena, was carrying her. A few months later, her father moved them to the city to be closer to his better employ, in pursuit of making a better life for them and their new child. Everything was full of promise. Evangeline did not remember much about her parents, except the feeling they loved her very much. And, of course, any other more tangible memories of them came from what her elders told her while she lived in the group home, where she awaited adoption; after a tragic house fire decimated an entire street. Yet, simultaneously devastating Evangeline’s entire life, leaving her without a loving family and the ever-promising life she thought lay before her.

Evangeline observed, most people who endured the pain of being overlooked for adoption multiple times had the tendency to become somewhat, or altogether, unsavory individuals. It was not their fault, of course, and she couldn’t bring herself to blame them. A person must do what they can to survive, but this was not the case for her. The benefactress of the group home took somewhat of a liking to her and always told her, “Evangeline, my dear, be sure you don’t allow yourself to be trapped. Your light is too good for places such as these… I have a feeling you are meant for something far greater than slogging it down here with the rest of us. I see you moving away and marrying a wealthy man. Someone with a reassuring countenance who is deserving of your heart. But be warned, child, those who pursue greatness never have the easiest lot… especially, in the beginning.”

Evangeline believed this to be true, at first. This was until she met Gregory. Gregory was a simple young man, not in the sense he was simple minded, no. He was a very what you see is what you get sort, and she admired that about him. There was no veil over his intentions from the moment she met him. He was kind, considerate, and above all honest. Three qualities that would make anyone a good husband and she counted herself lucky to have found him. Very lucky, Evangeline thought, wistfully.

They fell in love almost immediately. But most importantly, they were friends. She felt as if she could tell him anything and he would be warm and understanding. He was her rock, giving her a confidence in herself she never knew before. The light of her once dreary life. And, this light remained ever so brightly in her life until the year 1914.

In July of 1914, her life, and the lives of everyone around her were turned completely upside down, as the country was thrown into war with Germany. Gregory was among the first to be deployed and one of the first to die for his country. He was declared a hero, missing in action. A tiding that to this day gave her no peace. Nearly every night for the last thirteen years, she would dream of him still out there somewhere trying desperately to find his way home to her. But he never did. This drove Evangeline to becoming a bit of an agoraphobic. She went for the longest time without leaving the house, to the point his parents and many of her friends – the ones she had left anyway – were all extremely worried about her. There was even talk about her going to stay in a sanitarium. Which is something she considered doing herself for a time. A quiet place where she could just give up on life, because there was no reason to live it anymore. Gregory was no longer there, so what was the point? The light in her life had been completely snuffed out, never to return again – except in now occasional and fading nightmares. She did her best to cling to them, for they were the only thing she had left of him now. Evangeline found she could not bear to be parted with them. Fear gripped her as tightly as the heartstrings with which she clung to his fading memory, which slipped the bonds more and more with each passage of time; filling her with a sense of dread that inevitably they too would leave her utterly alone and she would be left with no more traces of him.

Evangeline was quite surprised at herself for taking this job, really. She, even now, could not figure out what exactly possessed her to become Mrs. Fortescue’s companion. She wondered if it could possibly have been the fact people told her it would give her purpose, not that any part of her – as far as she could tell – desired to have purpose of any kind in the state she was in. So perhaps it was the idea of traveling to places she had never seen before, unless she happened to be looking at picture post cards in some corner shop somewhere, daydreaming into them as she did when she was a child. Now she was there! But, still, all she could about was Gregory and how he wasn’t there.

She imagined how much he would have loved this place. Evangeline felt half tempted to write him a letter as if he were still alive and tell him about everything she was doing now. How she even begin?

I am just writing to you from the terrace. I have just had my breakfast in companionship with a lovely view of the sea. It is exactly the paradise you told me about; the people are delightful, the sun is warm but not too unpleasant. Yesterday afternoon, when I arrived here, I could have sunbathed…

Evangeline stopped short and the voice in her mind faded away with the wind, as she felt a heaviness grow in her chest. The tears creating a mist in her eyes, like the one she had witnessed over the top of the sea earlier that morning. She shook her head under her humble straw beach hat that covered her uncommonly long blonde hair. It was uncustomarily long for someone of her age these days, or so she had been informed. Everyone told her she should get a bob, they were all the rage now. Only little girls wore long hair nowadays. It told the world you had moved into sophisticated womanhood when you got a haircut, you had officially made your move into the height of stylish society. However, Evangeline had no reason left to have any major concerns for her appearance. She preferred to wear clothing that was comfortable and functional rather than worrying about impressing anyone. In fact, she much liked the fact the mousy grays, dull browns, and beiges she wore afforded her quite different quality. One far more desirable. Invisibility. This way she could go through the rest of her life in the background unnoticed and unbothered by other members of society. It was not that she had anything against them. She just much preferred not to worry herself with the small or great concerns that were harbored by most people at the moment. If she could completely disappear altogether and spend the rest of her days in a bed somewhere in a dark room, she would. But alas, this apparently was not something a functioning member of the human populous was meant to think. What they did not realise was she was only a relatively functioning member of humanity now. And, she feared there was no way to reverse it.

The only thing that gave any kind of inclination to anyone there was a flicker of life remaining in her body was that she very much enjoyed sketching. It was therapeutic to her, because she did not have to think very much when she did it. Evangeline could just sit outside, much like she was doing now, and let her hand guide her pencil over her sketchpad. The only thing she had to do then was wait to see what it would come up with today. And, today her hand felt the desire to capture the image of a small sailboat as it glided towards the sinking evening sun.

There was the sound of a low roar on the beach above her. Rocks cast themselves from the small naturally crafted rampart and skittered their way down to her in indication that something had disturbed them. Evangeline cast her eyes up briefly to see what they were trying to show her. And, that is when she saw him. There he stood, a tall ominous figure of a man. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore a long dark trench coat. His hair was black and his skin pale. He much reminded her of one of the vampires from those horror pictures she had gone to see with Mrs. Fortescue. From where she sat, his eyes looked almost as black as his hair. It could have been a trick of the light. Or was there something more? Evangeline could not be sure. There was something about him that was foreboding yet enticing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Who was he? What did he have in store for her? The questions flooding her mind confused her. What did he have to do with her anyway? To her recollection, she had never seen him before in her life. Yet, somehow she felt she had. Whatever was about to happen had already taken place. It was fated.

Evangeline quickly cast her eyes back down in deep concentration onto the sketchpad, hoping he would not notice her as she had noticed him. Mayhaps, if she stared down at the paper long enough, not only would this overwhelming feeling of premonition leave her, but so would he.

She slowly raised her head and peered out from under the now low hanging brim of her straw hat. It worked, she thought to herself with a sigh of relief. Both he and the car had vanished as quickly as they had appeared. She was now safe. And, just like that, once again… she was completely alone.