Tom Riddle | Short Stories

Persephone

"Persephone!" Called my mother, as she waved to me from under the willow tree at the end of the meadow.

"Coming, mother!" I called back.

I made my way through the field of flowers, tall and all of different colours. Each stood, displaying its own colour. I collected a few that I passed, some blue, some pink, some yellow.

Gazing at the sky without a care in the world. It was a truly beautiful day, not a cloud to be seen. The sun shone brilliantly on my face, I closed my eyes soaking in the sensation.

"Persephone, darling, come out of your dream world and help me clean up." Said mother, as she gathered our old red picnic blanket in her arms.

I moved faster, as I walked, it felt as though I was being watched. As though someone was seeing me, really seeing me and not being able to tear their gaze away. I almost laughed at the thought.

I lived a boring life. I grew up on a small farm in Little Hangleton. You've probably never heard of it. Before the post war slump, before the war itself, before the Great Depression, Little Hangleton had been a jewel on Britains royal crown. It had been where the trains stopped to be refuelled, where they produced the greatest Champagne, and host to some of the most magnificent firework shows accompanied with music and dancing. Now it was a poor fishermen's town on the coast of nowhere.

The only wealthy people had been the Riddles. The Riddles produced bullets and had made a fortune. Always waltzing around town, throwing money wherever they could. But they had died, leaving only their huge empty home. Now it's only occupant is their last descendant, Tom Riddle Jr.

I had been young during my towns time of prosperity, only being three years old when everything turned to shit. The war was over now. It was 1948 three years post war, and it was as thought this town were frozen in time.

I walked over to my mother, placing the flowers in my basket along with my painting supplies.

I gazed back at the field of flowers, longingly. I wished to stay among them forever. Simply gazing at the sky, surrounded by their beauty. As day turns to night, stars appear, and the air is filled with the sound of crickets.

~*~

I walked into town, a painting under my arm and a ribbon in my hair. I was going to sell my work. It had been a commission from the man, the mystery himself, mr Tom Riddle.

This was a sample, and if he liked it, he would commission a portrait of himself. I wondered why he would ask such a young artist, but then why not? It wasn't exactly like Little Hangleton was brimming with artistic expertise.

I was half way through town when I heard a car behind me. Thinking little of it, I move to the side.

"Who's that, father?" Asked a man, who seemed to be only a little older than I with brown hair and silver eyes.

"Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if you could tell us where the Royal Victoria hotel is?" Asked a girl who must have been his sister.

The car had slowed beside me and i shifted to face them.

"Sorry, it's in the next town over, across the river, there's a bridge not to far from here, keep going straight then make a left, you can't miss it." I said.

"That's an awful lot you're carrying there, can we give you a lift?" Asked the man driving.

"My destination is not too far from here." I said "but thank you."

"I'm a bit of a messenger myself, I can deliver you to your location." Said the man driving.

"Well, alright, I'm headed to that massive manor up that hill." I said, "right next to the fields of wildflowers."