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Marshall Cavendish International - Yihan Sim

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95 pages

English

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What if the gods were condemned to immortality due to the continued storytelling by mortals? What if Hades met Persephone in contemporary Singapore? Would their story still arrive at its age-old conclusion? As far as she knows, Sophie is an ordinary florist living an ordinary mortal life in Singapore whilst caring for an aged mother suffering from dementia. One day, a peculiar man with the same name as the ancient Greek god of the Underworld crashes into her life and falls heavier and heavier in her debt. Sophie tries to help him recover from amnesia and get back on his feet, while in the meantime, arranging for him to work for room and board at her flower shop. As time goes by, she grows accustomed to his company. She becomes unsure if she actually wants him to quickly pay off his debt and step out of her life just as abruptly as he had arrived... Absurd, comedic, and tender at the same time, this whimsical variation of the classic Greek myth will not fail to amuse and delight.

Sujets

Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Fantasy

Humour

Informations

Publié par	Marshall Cavendish International
Date de parution	20 mai 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9789814974448
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0450€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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With the Support of

2021 Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited
Text Sim Yihan
Published by Marshall Cavendish Editions
An imprint of Marshall Cavendish International

All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Requests for permission should be addressed to the Publisher, Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited, 1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196. Tel: (65) 6213 9300. E-mail: genref@sg.marshallcavendish.com Website: www.marshallcavendish.com
The publisher makes no representation or warranties with respect to the contents of this book, and specifically disclaims any implied warranties or merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose, and shall in no event be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.
Other Marshall Cavendish Offices:
Marshall Cavendish Corporation, 800 Westchester Ave, Suite N-641, Rye Brook, NY 10573, USA Marshall Cavendish International (Thailand) Co Ltd, 253 Asoke, 16th Floor, Sukhumvit 21 Road, Klongtoey Nua, Wattana, Bangkok 10110, Thailand Marshall Cavendish (Malaysia) Sdn Bhd, Times Subang, Lot 46, Subang Hi-Tech Industrial Park, Batu Tiga, 40000 Shah Alam, Selangor Darul Ehsan, Malaysia
Marshall Cavendish is a registered trademark of Times Publishing Limited
National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data
Name(s): Sim, Yihan.
Title: Persephone s choice / Yihan Sim.
Description: Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Editions, 2021.
Identifier(s): OCN 1242908650 | e-ISBN: 978 981 4974 44 8
Subject(s): LCSH: Hades (Greek deity)-Fiction. | Mythology, Greek-Fiction. | Florists-Fiction.
Classification: DDC S823-dc23
Printed in Singapore
Prologue
Chapter 1: Sophie s World
Chapter 2: Hades Meets Persephone
Chapter 3: Goddess of the Harvest
Chapter 4: The Reunion
Chapter 5: Destiny is Dead
Chapter 6: A Chinese Ghost Love Story
Chapter 7: The Fire Truck and the Pomegranate
Chapter 8: The Wrath of Demeter
Chapter 9: The Useful Fiction
Chapter 10: Zeus Decree
Chapter 11: Forgiveness
Epilogue
About the Author
Hades landed on Earth with a giant migraine.
Groaning, he clutched his head in agony. His skull felt as though it was cracking open from the inside. He could not open his eyes. The sun seared his retinas through his eyelids, setting off a phantasmagorical display of fireworks in his visual field. His knees protested as he shifted his weight off them and eased himself into a sitting position instead.
Eh! You okay? You okay? a plethora of voices chorused in the vicinity.
He had attracted a small audience.
The flashes of light and shimmering stars slowly cleared from his vision as he forced himself to breathe more evenly. The sun no longer seemed too bright. He dropped his hands from his head, forearms falling easily to rest on his knees, and opened his eyes.
A small huddle of concerned passers-by peered anxiously into his face. A few hands hovered uncertainly over his body, careful not to actually touch him, as though he were on the verge of shattering.
What happened? Did you fall down?
You feeling okay?
Does it hurt anywhere?
Should I call an ambulance?
On that last query, Hades started.
No, there s no need, he waved his hand about hastily. I tripped and fell. It hurt. But I m feeling better now. Just leave me to sit here and rest for a bit.
The onlookers glanced at each other doubtfully. Here was a stretch of slightly dirty pavement right beside the noisy rear end of a neighbourhood hawker centre. A row of rubbish bins lined a stained wall. A rotund turquoise gas tank punctuated the corner like a jolly garden gnome. The adjoining hawker centre itself was rife with bustle and activity, but where Hades sat, it was relatively quiet. A nondescript back alley. Nobody saw him land.
Are you sure? It s really no trouble. You should go to the hospital and get checked out. You might have a fracture or something.
Hades smiled at the kindly humans. Thank you. There s really no need. I just need to rest for a bit. The plethora of solicitous gazes and well-intentioned beseeches were making his head throb.
A clear female voice cut through the knot of bystanders like a bell.
Come, there s no need to fuss. Sir, you can come in to my shop to rest. It s just over there, the owner of the voice, a petite young lady with short neat hair, pointed emphatically at a little flower shop nestled in the corner of the shopping mall directly opposite the hawker centre.
Hades looked up at the voice. It was gentle, but firm. A cool breeze cutting through the feathery leaves of a casuarina. An overwhelming wave of d j vu nearly felled him. He felt as though he had met her before. Somewhere. In a different lifetime.
In many lifetimes.
He flicked his head as though to clear the haze of confusion that had settled on him.
Why am I here, now, in the mortal world?
I am looking for something.
What am I looking for?
His head was aching again. He could feel an insistent throb radiating from the left side of his skull. His vision threatened to give way again to a constellation of stars.
The young lady had reached his side. Her body was small and feline. There was a practiced grace in her upright posture, suggesting a subtle maturity. She knelt on her knees so she could look into his lowered face, unheeding of the dirty ground beneath her long skirt.
Her eyes were luminous and bright, a playful glint hiding in their corners. She had placed a hand beneath his elbow.
Come, it s nice and cosy at my flower shop. We have a small space for tea and snacks. You can rest there until you feel well enough again.
As Hades returned her gaze, a sense of compulsion welled up deep within him. There was something he was meant to do in the mortal world. And yet, his brain appeared to be pulsing distractedly and seemingly robbed of all memory prior to that moment. The young lady s mild insistent touch was compelling. He was drawn to her, like a moth to a candle.
I am to follow you.
Huh? Hades exhaled at that strange thought. Where had that come from?
Huh? the young lady echoed. What s wrong?
Hades groaned inwardly. So, he had indeed said that out loud.
Nothing, he said, trying to smile in a non-threatening manner. Thank you so much. I appreciate it.
The crowd promptly disappeared once they saw that the injured man was safely ensconced in someone s care. As the space emptied out once more, Hades noticed that the young lady was accompanied by a tall, bespectacled, unassuming-looking man. He was following her around like a puppy.
The two of them supported an elbow each and helped Hades to his feet. The trio walked slowly to the flower shop. Myriad scents enveloped them as they neared. It was comforting and peaceful, like all of spring compressed into a tiny space.
Hades looked up at the sign - SOPHIE S WORLD.
My name is Sophie, the young lady smiled up at him. She was a whole head shorter than him. Her little button nose was slightly upturned.
Hades was once again hit with a devastating sense of d j vu . He could not for the life of him place his finger on where he had met her. But that day, she was no more than a stranger.
I m Hades, he replied.
The wind chime sounded its bamboo chortle. The door to Sophie s flower shop creaked open, revealing an apologetic-looking man. He adjusted his spectacles as he entered, bowing his head. He was tall, but not so tall that bowing was necessary to avoid hitting the door frame. Still, he bowed each time he entered, reverently, as one would on visiting a shrine.
Sophie smiled. Hello, Mr Chang!
Mr Chang lifted a hand in greeting. He was a regular and walked straight up to his usual stool at the counter where Sophie stood. She reached out to receive the black laptop bag he carried every day and stowed it under the counter in a single fluid motion.
Would you like to try my new recipe today? It s cherry blossom tea. I finally found a place that sells pickled cherry blossoms, Sophie pattered cheerfully, picking up a brown side-handled teapot and its matching teacups. The striated clay teapot was simple and understated but for a seemingly accidental bright splash of persimmon paint at the end of its spout.
Thanks, Sophie, he smiled reticently. Hopping onto the tall stool, he nodded politely to the other customer seated by herself at the far end of the counter, right next to the window. The woman was in her mid-thirties. She was nursing a tea while reading a thick paperback novel, occasionally glancing up at the swaying tree branches outside the window. She smiled back at him faintly.
Sophie s flower shop was a peculiar little place. A cosy nook tucked some way from the bustling main street, it was refreshingly dim and quiet. Unlike typical flower shops, it did not carry the cloying smell from an abundance of fresh blooms. Ironically, it smelled mostly of dried flowers. Twigs. Herbs. Grasses.
The dead given new life.
The walls were decorated with handmade dried floral wreaths and wildflower bouquets hung upside down. They appeared almost haphazardly arranged, accentuated with rough muslin, twine and burlap ribbons. There was lavender, pine, daisies, wheat, white gypsophila, soft brown thistle, the palest pink bunny tail grass One could sit at the pinewood counter cradling a steaming cup of tea with a small bowl of rice crackers and not notice a hundred years pass by outside the small modest windows.
The fresh flowers were carefully stowed in an opaque refrigerator behind Sophie s cashier till, with more in a hidden backroom prohibited to customers. It was almost as if their dewy exuberance were a vulgar affront to the soft whispered colours that made