What Happened to Demetrius?
A series of four 100-word drabbles following the end of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream and extending on into the future.
The ending of A Midsummer Night's Dream has always bothered me for Demetrius's sake. I can't help but ask myself.
What Happened To Demetrius?
Demetrius loved Helena. He knew not why, but he had loved her desperately ever since that strange, fateful, dream-filled night in the wood. He knew not what had changed his heart that night after he had pursued his former love in her planned flight from Athens, but he knew that every time he saw those bright eyes and that beautiful smile he was fervently glad of it. Much of their time was spent with Lysander and Hermia who bore him no ill will for pursuing her. They were happy, their lives were peaceful, and the future was bright with possibility.
Demetrius loved Helena. Their love was no longer the bright and all-consuming flame it had been at the start, but it had faded into a warm and comfortable thing and he was content. He was a father now to a fine son, with his mother’s eyes and his father’s laugh and he had never been more proud of anything he’d ever done in his life. Helena was a wonderful and attentive mother, and if he no longer felt the same heat when he looked at Helena and touched her body, such was the fate of all new parents, wasn’t it?
Demetrius loved Helena. That is what he told himself every time he looked at her. That is what he said every time he greeted her or parted from her in public. That is what he said when he wised her good morning or evening. That is what he told himself every time he held their children close. He loved his children. He loved Helena. But sometimes, he would hold her close in the night and see another’s face in his mind. Sometimes he would look toward Lysander and Hermia and their incandescent joy in each other, and he would wonder.
Demetrius loved Helena. He reminded himself so every day. But sometimes he thought of the bright, consuming passion of their early days together and wondered where it had went. Sometimes he caught himself admiring the fall of Hermia’s hair and the eyes that even age had not dimmed. Quickly he would turn his eyes away, focus them on his wife, and pretend that he did not feel nothing when he looked at her. Demetrius loved Helena, but sometimes he remembered the taste of joy he’d known in their youth, and tried not to wonder why now he tasted only ash.
The ending of A Midsummer Night's Dream has always bothered me for Demetrius's sake. I can't help but ask myself.
What Happened To Demetrius?
Demetrius loved Helena. He knew not why, but he had loved her desperately ever since that strange, fateful, dream-filled night in the wood. He knew not what had changed his heart that night after he had pursued his former love in her planned flight from Athens, but he knew that every time he saw those bright eyes and that beautiful smile he was fervently glad of it. Much of their time was spent with Lysander and Hermia who bore him no ill will for pursuing her. They were happy, their lives were peaceful, and the future was bright with possibility.
Demetrius loved Helena. Their love was no longer the bright and all-consuming flame it had been at the start, but it had faded into a warm and comfortable thing and he was content. He was a father now to a fine son, with his mother’s eyes and his father’s laugh and he had never been more proud of anything he’d ever done in his life. Helena was a wonderful and attentive mother, and if he no longer felt the same heat when he looked at Helena and touched her body, such was the fate of all new parents, wasn’t it?
Demetrius loved Helena. That is what he told himself every time he looked at her. That is what he said every time he greeted her or parted from her in public. That is what he said when he wised her good morning or evening. That is what he told himself every time he held their children close. He loved his children. He loved Helena. But sometimes, he would hold her close in the night and see another’s face in his mind. Sometimes he would look toward Lysander and Hermia and their incandescent joy in each other, and he would wonder.
Demetrius loved Helena. He reminded himself so every day. But sometimes he thought of the bright, consuming passion of their early days together and wondered where it had went. Sometimes he caught himself admiring the fall of Hermia’s hair and the eyes that even age had not dimmed. Quickly he would turn his eyes away, focus them on his wife, and pretend that he did not feel nothing when he looked at her. Demetrius loved Helena, but sometimes he remembered the taste of joy he’d known in their youth, and tried not to wonder why now he tasted only ash.