Gods & Thieves

By Aubrey Campbell

What could a god and a mortal thief possibly have in common? 

In this collection of short stories, mythological and ancient tales alike show how god and thief struggle in the face of fate. A glimpse of the future is depicted in, "Inked" where children are born with tattoos.

"Silence" takes a trip to the Afterlife as a young boy learns how to tend a human soul in death.

"The Fall of Hades" tells the classic legend of Hades and Persephone with a twist - Hades is the one forced to decide whether he will leave his beloved kingdom.

Be they immortal god or lowly human thief, they are no match for the power a simple choice has to change their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aubrey Campbell
• Release date: Apr 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781515364344

Book preview

The Fall of Hades

Alegend is never questioned . It might change, a little here, a little there, but the heart of it remains the same. And nobody wonders if maybe that’s not how the story really goes. Maybe things aren’t quite as simple as the epic, sprawling tales of old make it out to be, tales of courageous heroes who slay the monster, defeat the evil, and humbly accept the crown of victory in the end.

Perhaps the legends have been altered to hide something too unpleasant to comprehend, like the frightening truth that evil is not always a gruesome ugly monster, or that the idyllic picture of the invincible hero is only a mask, a façade to hide decay and cowardice. Instead, as shown in the tale that follows, gentleness and a shrewd mind win the day, not at the hands of a champion as most tales will tell, but in the quiet, unassuming hands of a girl.

As tales so often do, our story has been twisted over time, passed from one person to another, generation to generation, tainted by seemingly harmless embellishments. It’s always been said that the fierce, cruel, dark Hades, King of the Underworld, captured the sweet, innocent Persephone and dragged her down to his kingdom where she would spend six miserable months out of every year as his queen, trapped, without light, without Life, nothing but the grim company of Death and the poor souls who crossed over.

The real legend, of course, tells a very different story.

Persephone truly was a beauty with long golden hair that hung loose down her back and curled softly around her ankles. One of the precious details left out of our story, however, was Persephone’s razor sharp wit which she didn’t let show very often. It made people upset when she so effortlessly outsmarted them. They took one look at her pretty face and assumed she was naïve and easy to trick, but when she caught onto their schemes and they realized how wrong they were about her...it didn’t go over well.

Persephone found comfort and peace of mind in her garden, tending all manner of small, humble flowers, and grasping, needy vines, and still other plants with long knife-like thorns that drew blood from unwelcome visitors and trespassers of the garden. But they never tore Persephone’s skin. Even the most dangerous and poisonous plants never caused her harm, never tasted the sweet, heady drink of her blood because she spoke to them and they listened, ever the attentive and loyal companions.

Where Persephone had to be cautious and guarded around people as they feared, hated, and grew jealous of the brilliance of her mind, she never had to hide anything from her plants, her trusty herbs, her dependable trees, her humble mushrooms bursting out of the damp, dark soil. She could talk to her heart’s delight and never worry because the plants soaked up every soft word, every brilliant thought, every treasured dream that spilled from her lips like blessed rain after a long, torturous drought.

It was here, in her garden, that Persephone’s mother, Demeter, came to visit for a few minutes every day, sometimes to help where she could, but for the most part it was to witness her daughter at ease, comfortable and happy. As she watched Persephone whispering to a flower bud, Demeter’s heart ached for the secret that was growing ripe and festering inside her. With each passing day, it came closer to breaking the surface and spilling out into the light, it’s ugly, misshapen form for all to see.

One day, as Persephone buried her hands in a patch of soft moss, she glanced up at her mother and noticed the deep line of worry creased between her mother’s eyebrows that she had never seen before. Had it always been there?

Mother? Persephone asked, standing up, concerned. Are you all right?

Demeter blinked, her eyes slowly coming into focus, and she shook her head. Yes, Persephone, I’m fine, but I’m afraid we must talk about something I should have mentioned to you before now. I’ve let it go too long as it is.

On instinct, Persephone reached out and brushed her finger over the bobbing head of a daisy in a loving gesture. She needed comfort and reassurance from the familiar things, from her garden, in the face of this new, unknown development. Her mother’s worry seemed to loom around them, a brooding, unwelcome presence, and it made her uneasy.

I’m listening, she said. She took her mother’s hands and pulled her deeper into the garden. What is it?

I had hoped, Demeter said, that it would go away on its own. Foolish, I know, but I wanted to protect you and keep you safe.

Persephone squeezed her mother’s hand in reassurance. You have. You helped build my garden and it protects me.

Demeter cast her daughter a sad, mournful look, filled with regret and the unfathomable love of a mother for her daughter. She took a steadying breath then plunged in. The twisted, bitter truth poured out after years of holding it in, letting it eat away at her just so she could keep her child from harm. Now it crawled from her lips, thick and black and unstoppable, staining her daughter, scarring her, tainting her.

How many nights had Demeter gone without sleep, imagining ways to deny the Fates what they told of her daughter’s future? How many times had she tried to prevent this very moment from happening? The world had done enough damage, closing Persephone’s heart off, mocking her, forcing her to hide her true self when others wouldn’t accept her. They ridiculed her for the strengths they didn’t have and shunned her. The gods and goddesses had seen fit to grant Persephone a brilliant mind and a kind heart but other humans, they ridiculed her for what they did not have.

I made a deal, Demeter finally said. A very, very long time ago. I loved your father dearly but we...well, your father loved another. We were destined for separate paths. But when he found out I carried you, he wanted you killed. And the Fates agreed.

Persephone stared at her mother, barely breathing as the full impact of what she had been told began to sink in. Demeter never talked much about Persephone’s father before, apart from a few vague little details - the golden color of his hair or his fiery temper and commanding air. Persephone knew he was a god but she didn’t know which one. She didn’t ask though, for fear of bringing up memories her mother didn’t wish to revisit.

Demeter plucked at the dark purple fabric of her peplos. I went to Mount Olympus to seek help. It was a slim chance at best that any god or goddess would defy your father’s orders.

They have their moments of mercy on occasion, Persephone said, desperate to throw her mother a fragile thread of hope to pull her from the black pool of worry she was drowning in.

Demeter nodded. Yes, it’s not often they extend a hand of mercy but I was lucky, in a sense. A god did offer protection, though not the god I had hoped for. He saw my desperation and took advantage of it. In order to keep you alive, you are to go with him to his kingdom.

That doesn’t sound so terrible. We can still visit each other.

Demeter’s hand went still against her peplos and she raised her head. Words were not needed to convey the severity of the situation. One look was enough. Persephone’s heart stuttered at the expression of terror and deep sadness etched into her mother’s face.

You are to become Queen of the Underworld, Demeter said, each word dropping into the silence softly and yet carrying such a heavy weight of meaning. You are to reside over the Dead and rule the land of misery and torture for the rest of eternity, alive, yes, but somewhere I am not allowed to follow. We will never see each other again. And you will be... she hesitated and her breath hitched in her throat. Wed to Hades.

Hades, Persephone whispered, the name feeling strange on her tongue with the implication of what this would mean for her. She’d heard the tales of Hades, how cruel and heartless he was. Being King of the Underworld, governing all those Dead souls, it was no surprise he had very little compassion.

He’s the god who took mercy on you, Persephone said as the pieces fell into place. You made the deal with him.

Yes, Demeter said with a sigh.

And it was sealed the usual way?

His blood and mine.

Persephone remained silent for several long moments. This was too much to take in all at once and yet the idea of becoming ruler of the Underworld, though intimidating, held a certain appeal. It was a tempting proposition. Governing an entire kingdom, Dead souls or Live ones, would be a fascinating experience. Although she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of ruling next to Hades. She didn’t know him besides what little she picked up from other people’s wagging tongues. What if he had a horrible temper? What if he would be just as cold-hearted and merciless to her as he was to his Dead subjects?

But what could she do? There was no going back on a deal made between two immortals. The deal would last for all time, exactly like the blood that was spilled to seal it.

Demeter watched Persephone as she stared at the ground, idly running her fingers through the trailing branches of a willow tree in a calming rhythm. Would she cry? Would she beg her mother to find some way to rescind the offer? But Persephone seemed strangely quiet and accepting of the whole thing. Demeter had expected denial at least, hysterics at most, and yet Persephone didn’t appear to be inclined to any of those things.

All right, Persephone said at last, meeting her mother’s gaze. I’ll become Queen of the Underworld.

That was not the answer Demeter had expected to hear. No, my sweet Persephone, you don’t understand. It will be nothing but endless suffering. I wanted to tell you now because the deal is to be carried out in three days’ time and I will put a stop to this, I promise. You are not going with him, I won’t let it happen.

Persephone smiled, patted her mother’s hand, and listened patiently as her mother ran through idea after idea of how the deal could be broken. They both knew there was no way out, it was sealed. Done. Once immortal blood had been spilled with that of another, the bond could not be broken, by mortal man or mighty deity.

Persephone didn’t remind Demeter of that. There was no need to. Her mother was well aware of the consequences when she mingled her blood with Hades’ so many years ago to protect her unborn daughter. Demeter had done more than enough already in ensuring Persephone’s safety and now it was Persephone’s turn to look after her mother. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much this secret had weighed on her mother’s mind all these years and Demeter had never once made mention of it before now. It was time for Persephone to start playing the role the Fates had prepared for her. Hades would come, that was inevitable, but she would be ready. Every deal had a loop hole, it was simply a matter of finding it.

Deceiving a god was not something Persephone had ever put much thought to in the past and she barely managed to stave off the panic threatening to rise up and swallow her whole. As she schemed and plotted ways of achieving the impossible, to outwit Hades and this cursed deal, she took comfort in the tending of her garden. While she watered and weeded, her concerns slipped out and buried themselves in the soil, nestled in amongst the flowers and the herbs and any other greenery that would listen.

When the day came for Hades to arrive, Persephone sent her tearful mother home with a kiss on her cheek and reassurances that everything would work out in the end. The rising sun sent blushing streaks across the sky