Chapter 1 ~ I Disintegrate My History Teacher With a Sword
The Underworld is lonely at night.
Have you ever heard the term "sleep of the dead"? Well, whoever thought of that regretted it when he died, because the dead can't sleep. They can only rest in this subconscious form, and only if their purpose has been fulfilled. I guess mine hasn't, since I can't rest at all. I'm dead tired, excuse my pun. When my mother came to me, it became obvious. The senior scribe Rick Riordan at Camp Half-Blood writes all of these tales about the amazing life of Perseus Jackson. But are there any stories about me, Ethan Nakumura, Son of Nemesis? No. I can almost understand what the minor gods feel every day.
Anyway, my story must be told. From the beginning to the end. Superstars like Jackson can't keep stealing the spotlight. I need to tell the world my story. Maybe then I will be able to get some rest.
And, all of this is true.
As I rushed through the hall, I heard the bell ring. Shoot. Late for history again. Now Mrs. White will surely give me detention.
However, I turned into the room to see that Mrs. White was not there. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to hear someone clear her throat from behind me.
"Ahem," Mrs. White said in that demonic voice of hers. "Late again, Mr. Nakumura? I'm afraid you will have to stay after school with me today."
Damn, I thought. "But it isn't fair!" I protested. "I have to go all the way from one side of the school to the other!"
"Life isn't fair, Nakumura. Sit down. Be happy I'm not calling your father."
I winced at the thought of my father yelling at me, beating me, even, for being disturbed at work. "Y-Yes, ma'am," I stuttered as I took my seat next to my best friend Satch. I sat through another History lesson, almost falling asleep, when the final bell snapped me back into my senses.
"I'll wait for you outside, man," Satch said. I noticed his awkward walk out, and remembered how he had a strange muscle disorder in the lower half of his body. I brushed my long, black hair out of my eyes and turned to face Mrs. White.
But she wasn't sitting at her desk. She was standing directly behind me. "Sit down," she hissed.
"Yes, Mrs. White? What shall I do for you today?" I laid all of my sarcasm into my words. "Shall I give you a mani-pedi? Treat you to a free hair appointment?"
She shrieked - an evil, high pitched yell, almost like a cat that had been stepped on. "Jeez, I'm sorry for the sarcasm," I muttered. But then I looked back to her, and saw her transform into her real self. Her brown hair turned shockingly white. Her leather jacket melted into bat wings. Her sharp fingernails turned into talons. And her head - I don't know what it turned into. It was stone gray face, with slit eyes and ugly yellow teeth. It shrieked again, that horrible sound. I must have screamed bloody murder, because Satch burst in.
"Ethan!" He yelled. He pulled out a sword from under his pants, which, now that I think of it, was disgusting, and tossed it to me. I caught it.
"That's a…that's a…" I said in fear.
"Yes! A Banshee! A daughter of the Furies! Look out, Ethan!"
The Banshee dive bombed me. A black aura surrounded me. I let out a yell, stronger and fiercer than the Banshee's scream. I sliced with the sword and the Banshee disappeared in a blanket of ash. I had vaporized it.
I fell down in agony. My whole world faded to black.