Friends, Romans, Countrymen and Some Flash Fiction

Slowly but surely I'm getting back into the swing of things after my holiday. I always end up a bit off balance when I return from being away, especially when I really, really enjoyed myself and can only think about going back again. In this case I went to Rome, which was one of my "must-see-before-I-die" places. And it did not disappoint in the slightest. I got to see almost all of the cool ancient Roman stuff, and squeezed in the Vatican, the river Tiber and the Castel Sant'Angelo (I didn't know what it was either, apart from it being in Assassin's Creed games). There was even a top floor on my hotel to sunbathe on with a pool. Absolute heaven.

Rather than do a big old travelogue post I thought I'd write a short story inspired by that beautiful city and its crazy, wonderful inhabitants and the huge amount of history it has.

Proserpina

  Hurrying through the cobbled, narrow streets my eyes watch my feet, determined not to trip once again.
  Tourists wander past, their gazes drawn to the surrounding walls. All I feel is a sense of confinement, a desperation to escape these towering structures, their facades seeming to crumble before my eyes.
 Reaching the top of the Spanish Steps, a groan escapes my drawn lips. The crowds are thick and oblivious to others, soaking up the sun so the passage through is small and ever-shifting. Taking a deep breath of the hot air, the stench of humanity thick in it, I steel myself and dive into their depths, asking for forgiveness rather than permission as I hurry past them. Most barely notice me, but a few, mainly children, turn and stare as my thick skirts swish past them. Others do a double take, smiling before turning to their fellows to mention me. By the time they turn back I will be gone.
  The sun is high in the sky but I don't have much time. I have to reach the fountain before the sun starts to dip. Cars screech and honk when I run across the road, but no more than they always do in this loud, cacophonous place.
  Finally I reach the piazza, with the lone fountain spurting forth life itself. I slow my pace, a sudden reluctance making my feet drag. Here I am, in the bright light of day, about to give it all up again. But it is the price I must pay. That I will always pay.
  I step over the slack chain that lines the fountain edge and step into the blessedly cool water, glittering topaz and green. There suddenly seems to be few people around as I reach out with my left hand, the ring on my third finger glinting darkly, even in the bright of day. As always, I hesitate, wondering if there is a way. A way to not got back. The exact same thought I have every year before I come here and when I leave. But I know I could never give up that other place entirely, whatever my mother may tell herself; no matter what she tells me when I'm within earshot. Just as I know I can never entirely give up this place either, or the maternal figure always waiting for me.
  My fingers brush the carving of Romulus and Remus suckling on their mother's teats, her wolf's head staring deep into me. Another strong mother figure. Is there ever a way to fully escape them?
  A whirling of light and water surround me, almost drowning me and suddenly I am no longer in the daylight. There is no heat upon my shoulders, no smell of cars, sweat and dreams. Instead there is only blessed coolness, the scent of just fallen rain and the shadows.
  "My love, you have returned at last. I feared you would change your mind."
  The same words. The same words every year and yet my heart beats that little bit faster, and I close my eyes in anticipation as I turn around and open them to look upon my husband.
  "I will always return to you my dark one. Not even my mother can keep us apart forever."
  With the ritual words out of the way he embraces me, his hands cold against my back but his eyes glowing with a fire I could never resist. The same fire that made me leave with him all those many moons ago.