I am surrounded by souls, yet, utterly alone. The mindless spirits of the dead wander aimlessly around the Underworld enacting pale imitations of activates they performed in life. I, on this cold, regal throne of black marble, watch them and listen to the chorus of the damned. I hear the wails of wretched souls as judgment is passed on them. Ixion moans on his fiery wheel. Sisyphus groans under the weight of his giant boulder. The Danaides' screech from the frustration of filling porous jars.
I have become hardened to all their sufferings. Even handsome Perithious's vacant face cannot move me to pity. I admit, I was flattered when he and his friend Theseus came to kidnap me. I was disappointed that such a golden opportunity for an interesting ray of activity to interrupt my monotonous existence was thwarted by my husband. But I digress. I am hardened to all their sufferings. All but one.
My heart cries for poor Tantalus's punishment. He is surrounded with the means of satisfying his desire, but he can never attain it. Just as I am. I remember clearly the days when I frolicked in eternal spring. Six cursed pomegranate seeds stole my life. These ruby seeds, which I have now developed a fondness for, now stain my hands and teeth with permanent bloody marks. When the meat has been eaten, the seeds dry and look like the bleached bones of mortals in the desert. Some pomegranate juice spills on them. Now they are bones dipped in blood. To a casual onlooker, I have blood-stained hands and teeth and am surrounded by gory bones. An appropriate image for the Queen of the Damned, don't you agree?
I live a half-life, caught between two existences. I am too stained to fully enjoy my time out of Hell, but I have tasted freedom, which will not let me be content in my dark abode. It is ironic that I am worshiped as the goddess of death and the goddess of fertility, yet I have experienced none of theses traits. I, being a goddess, have never died. I have never had any children with my husband and uncle, Hades.
We gods are a strange race. My father's wife is the goddess of marriage, but her marriage is a joke. Zeus sleeps with anything that moves. We gods are a strange race. We are horribly inbred. My parents are siblings. My grandparents are siblings. My great-grandparents are siblings. Now, I have married my uncle. We gods are a strange race.
I wonder when Aphrodite will bring back my sweet Adonis, yet another child born of an incestuous union. I have no fear that Adonis will never return to me. He is mortal, therefore, like all mortals; he cannot escape the pull of death. One way or another, he will come to me.