The History Paper
In the backseat of a cab, you held onto the scrap of paper Luna had given you with addresses of, hopefully, Plato and the pomegranate seeds. You looked out the window and took in the surprisingly modern city. Chase sat beside you, fiddling idly with his phone. The silence combined with the looming worry quickly became unbearable.
Quietly, you voiced a concern that had been eating at you for a while. “I hope we get out soon, my paper is due in 1 day – if time works the same way here.”
Chase sighed dramatically. “Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about? Luna told us we will start to fade, whatever that means, if we stay here for too long and you're worried about a paper?”
You shrugged. “I know we’ll get out; I just want it to be before the deadline.”
“How do you know?” Although his head was still resting on the hand of his arm propped against the window, he shifted in his seat to face you. “And don’t you think your professor would be understanding to the circumstances?”
“I don’t know,” you said, looking at your hands, “I just have a gut feeling we will. And how do you propose I explain the circumstance to him?” Not waiting for him to answer, you continued. “My best friend and I accidentally ended up in the underworld for a few days because he thought it’d be a good idea for me to get out and my drunk-confidence-I-didn’t-know-I-had screwed us over, so we had to bargain with multiple gods to get out?”
Chase cracked the smallest smile. “That’s exactly how I’d like you to explain it to him.”
“I’d be sent to the school mental health nurse before he’d listen to me.” Another uncomfortable silence filled the cab and you looked out the window again.
“I’m worried about this,” Chase said very quietly.
“Which part?”
He glanced at you. “Today. I mean, what if we can’t get the seed from him? Do you really think you could outsmart him?”
You were quiet for a moment, debating how to respond. “Outsmart? No, I don't think so. Convince? Hopefully.”
Chase just nodded and the cab came to a slow stop.
The two of you leapt out of the car and beelined it to the front door. The front of the building didn’t appear to be that of a townhouse. It was tall, maybe two or three stories, and the brick face of the building only added to its looming appearance. There were evenly spaced windows trimmed in light gray. A small patch of ivy slithered its way up the corner of the building. The front door was painted blue with a brass knocker just below a peephole. You glanced at Chase before giving the door a hard knock.
A moment later, the door was pulled open by an older man. “What do you want?”
His bluntness briefly threw you off. “Well, we were just hoping to chat with you, Plato,” you stuttered.
He narrowed his eyes and looked the two of you up and down. “Are you trying to sell me something?”
“No, sir,” Chase answered.
“Just want to talk; we could really use your help.” You shifted nervously.
“Very well.” The door swung open wide and he beckoned you inside.
You introduced yourselves as Plato led you down a hall and up a flight of stairs into a peaceful sitting room. The house was beautiful with hardwood floors and bright walls. Books and papers covered many of the surfaces you could see. The windows on the wall facing the street let in plenty of natural light. He sat on a leather couch and invited you to join him.
You complimented the space, but Plato dismissed you with a wave. “I’m not a fan of small talk.” He shifted so he could cross his legs – which looked incredibly uncomfortable in the formal clothes he wore. “What do you need my help with?”
You explained the situation you and Chase had found yourselves in, telling him the whole story, right from Chase’s phone call a couple of nights previously. You shared the information Persephone had given you and concluded by asking: “if you happen to have the pomegranate seed,s we were wondering if we could potentially have them?”
Plato listened to your story quietly and after you finished, he sat thoughtfully. The two of you were growing increasingly nervous. When he finally spoke, you felt as if your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. “If I had them, why would I give them to you? I don’t know you; you have done nothing to prove yourselves worthy of it.” His eyebrows furrowed. “How do I even know your story is true? Can I trust you?”
Quietly, you voiced a concern that had been eating at you for a while. “I hope we get out soon, my paper is due in 1 day – if time works the same way here.”
Chase sighed dramatically. “Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about? Luna told us we will start to fade, whatever that means, if we stay here for too long and you're worried about a paper?”
You shrugged. “I know we’ll get out; I just want it to be before the deadline.”
“How do you know?” Although his head was still resting on the hand of his arm propped against the window, he shifted in his seat to face you. “And don’t you think your professor would be understanding to the circumstances?”
“I don’t know,” you said, looking at your hands, “I just have a gut feeling we will. And how do you propose I explain the circumstance to him?” Not waiting for him to answer, you continued. “My best friend and I accidentally ended up in the underworld for a few days because he thought it’d be a good idea for me to get out and my drunk-confidence-I-didn’t-know-I-had screwed us over, so we had to bargain with multiple gods to get out?”
Chase cracked the smallest smile. “That’s exactly how I’d like you to explain it to him.”
“I’d be sent to the school mental health nurse before he’d listen to me.” Another uncomfortable silence filled the cab and you looked out the window again.
“I’m worried about this,” Chase said very quietly.
“Which part?”
He glanced at you. “Today. I mean, what if we can’t get the seed from him? Do you really think you could outsmart him?”
You were quiet for a moment, debating how to respond. “Outsmart? No, I don't think so. Convince? Hopefully.”
Chase just nodded and the cab came to a slow stop.
The two of you leapt out of the car and beelined it to the front door. The front of the building didn’t appear to be that of a townhouse. It was tall, maybe two or three stories, and the brick face of the building only added to its looming appearance. There were evenly spaced windows trimmed in light gray. A small patch of ivy slithered its way up the corner of the building. The front door was painted blue with a brass knocker just below a peephole. You glanced at Chase before giving the door a hard knock.
A moment later, the door was pulled open by an older man. “What do you want?”
His bluntness briefly threw you off. “Well, we were just hoping to chat with you, Plato,” you stuttered.
He narrowed his eyes and looked the two of you up and down. “Are you trying to sell me something?”
“No, sir,” Chase answered.
“Just want to talk; we could really use your help.” You shifted nervously.
“Very well.” The door swung open wide and he beckoned you inside.
You introduced yourselves as Plato led you down a hall and up a flight of stairs into a peaceful sitting room. The house was beautiful with hardwood floors and bright walls. Books and papers covered many of the surfaces you could see. The windows on the wall facing the street let in plenty of natural light. He sat on a leather couch and invited you to join him.
You complimented the space, but Plato dismissed you with a wave. “I’m not a fan of small talk.” He shifted so he could cross his legs – which looked incredibly uncomfortable in the formal clothes he wore. “What do you need my help with?”
You explained the situation you and Chase had found yourselves in, telling him the whole story, right from Chase’s phone call a couple of nights previously. You shared the information Persephone had given you and concluded by asking: “if you happen to have the pomegranate seed,s we were wondering if we could potentially have them?”
Plato listened to your story quietly and after you finished, he sat thoughtfully. The two of you were growing increasingly nervous. When he finally spoke, you felt as if your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. “If I had them, why would I give them to you? I don’t know you; you have done nothing to prove yourselves worthy of it.” His eyebrows furrowed. “How do I even know your story is true? Can I trust you?”