Just Read The Book

I know, I know, I'm the Queen of Self Insertion. I just enjoy it okay? But anyway, I've written this story a while ago while I was taking a break on my HP story. I wrote 6 chapters of it, it's not done, but this story wouldn't be terribly long if I chose to finish it.

I posted it, because I wanted to see if it's worth continuing, considering that Clash of the Titans doesn't have a lot of stories in it to begin with, and I don't even know if there's a lot of demand for stories about a movie that came out like, almost two years ago.

If I don't get a lot of response for it in over a month, I'll just delete it. But if you like it, I may just continue it.

DISCLAIMER: I only own Demi and Lake, and some random soldiers. This story will eventually become canon-ish, and if I chose to continue this story, you will see why.

CHAPTER ONE.
Lake Zane

I had my head shoved in the bathtub, washing out the red dye that I had lathered in there earlier. It wasn't obnoxiously red, but red enough that you could tell that it was dyed. While I was doing this, my brother, Lake, was going on and on about the ridiculousness of failing World History. He was seventeen and one credit away from graduating high school, which was his weakest class to date. Lake, the genius, hated history. To him, it was the most boring course known to man. But how could he know? He doesn't listen in history class.

He was good at the sciences; engineering and physics was his thing. Though he barely passes those classes with a 60. The reason why? He ignores his projects and does his own. Last year, he attempted to make our home television set into a 3D one, so we didn't have to buy one ourselves. The only thing he made 3D was our father's vein on his forehead.

But, Lake was pretty sure of himself here. He was convinced that he made a machine that would make him famous and independently rich beyond comprehension. He thinks that he has created a way to be transported through time and universes with the help of a small Wormhole that was supposedly coming tonight, in our backyard of all places. I always wondered why haven't our parents sent him to a mental help facility. But he was my little brother, and what ever crazy thing he did, I would try to support his dreams. The more failures he's come by makes it more and more difficult to do so.

"You know, Demi, dying your hair red wouldn't be a good idea if you're coming with me," Lake said at the doorframe, after he finished explaining his machine.

"Look at it this way, if we do make it there, they'll mistake me for a Princess, or a demi-god," I replied over the sound of water dripping form my hair as I twist it.

Lake tapped his chin, "would they really?"

I roll my eyes and pull back my hair and dried it with a towel. It was still wet, but not soaking, so I let it tumble against my back, and let my fringe stick out in awkward angles. "Probably not," I sighed. "I don't get it, why don't you just read the book? Wouldn't it take less time?"

"Well, one, no, it wouldn't take less time. Because when we're done, we would be sent back only an hour after we left. And two, the book is boring. I don't understand half of the things they're talking about."

I sighed again, gathering my hair in a ponytail, and blow dried my bangs so they wouldn't end up curled and wild when my hair dried by itself. This is what I do when my parents are gone: hang out with my brother. Most college students my age are out drinking, or at frat parties. But no, Demi Zane is at home, dying her hair while her brother had plans in which involved a fantasy that would get him out of reading a book. I had to be the only tweny-two year old in the world that spends her weekends like this.

"Besides," Lake continued, "This is just more fun! Don't you want to go on an adventure?"

"Yes, like, actually going to Greece, maybe to a club, and not sitting in a box, and pretending," I was getting frustrated, Lake could tell, but he didn't care.

He was excited, because he "knew" that this was going to work. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me into his room that was last in the hallway. Thankfully our parents were away for the weekend, on their 10th honeymoon? It was hard to keep track. So we were both alone in this big mansion of ours.

Yes, our family was wealthy, but you couldn't tell by the me and Lake alone. Gus Zane, my father, is a proud man, and doesn't like to feed Lake's trigger happy imagination and gift. He prefers to have his son be in Politics, like him, instead of a physicist and wasting his time making inventions that never work, or are impossible. Ingrid, my mom, is much more gentle than he is. She would laugh at Lake's attempts, and encourage Lake and I's dreams, however ridiculous they may seem. Our father and mother are polar opposites, you see, with one being a workaholic politician, the other being an owner of a prestigious wedding gown store. Gus dealt with debates, and Ingrid dealt with crying girls.

Lake's room is the smallest in the house, and that is saying something. Toronto is the home of many old houses, most of which Victorian and in the heart of the City. However our large Victorian house was settled away from the city, surrounded by big oak and willow trees on the border of Vaughan. The house had many hidden corridors, some of which go unnoticed by our parents. One of them conveniently lays behind Lake's closet. It wasn't big, but it was where he hid all his inventions.

In the middle of the hidden room, I saw a flat platform made out of different kinds of metals; it was large enough for two people to stand on. And then connected to it with tangles of black, red and blue wires was another platform, smaller, with a glass dome over it. Next to the machine was a big duffle bag and a chair with cloths of familiar material.

"Are those the drapes from the Dining Room?" I ask, pointing at the material with a hanging jaw.

"Yes!" Lake exclaimed, as if he has just forgotten about them. "I made something from you." He pulled out the off-white sheets, and I made a groaning sound as I quickly learned that length of the drapes have been cut. There was a skirt, followed by a brown-leather sash wrapped around the waist, and the bodice was tied to one shoulder with a bronze clasp that looked like one of my belt buckles that was a shield with a roaring lion.

"Lake!" I yelled, furious that he actually went as far as defacing the tapestries. You know shit's gone too far when that happens.

"I've made myself one too. I've packed all the essentials. My notes, pencil case, shampoo, soap, tooth brushes and tooth paste, some extra clothes. Not much, a gown I made for you with the curtains in my washroom, and I got your gladiator sandals, and bought myself a pair too. An extra note book for you, of course, mum and dad's old jewelry - the ones that they don't wear anymore - to bargain with people. Like, four bottles of sunscreen - I heard it's hot in Greece - uhm... Tampons, for you know... Perishable foods, like cheerios, soup in a can, granola bars, some other stuff, a few big bottles of water, oh, and-" he stopped talking to move in a corner of the room and pulled out another bag, this time dragging it at his feet. I heard a clang and the scrape of metal, and ran a hand over my face as I knew exactly what that was.

"I found a store down town... Authentic replicas of Greek swords! Real metal, unbreakable, fully functional... I've got two of them, and sheaths. And bow and arrows for the both of us. I was going to buy the shields...but I couldn't even pick one up..."

"Lake - you don't know how to use a sword. Or a Bow."

"What are you talking about, we both took Archery and Fencing."

"...You barely lasted a month." Which was true. My father wanted us to do a unique sport, instead of soccer or baseball, and had us enrolled in a number of classes. I have two years of Fencing, and Archery under my belt, and ten years of martial arts. Lake, however, barely lasted a month in Fencing and only six in Archery before my dad let him give up and put him in Science camp.

There was no use of arguing with him. The Wormhole was supposedly opening at exactly midnight, it was 9:30 pm right now, and I just want to get this over with so I could crawl into bed and sleep. There was just the issue of my mother's curtains to pay for... my mom isn't a vengeful woman, but she has always been touchy about the decor of our house. In about a half hour's time, both Lake and I were dressed. I was wearing the tunic dress he had made for me out of the Dining Room drapes; the off white colour had vines embroidered in them, but you had to be close to me to see the designs. The sash fit well around my waist, and Lake confessed he had to go through my clothes to find out my exact size in everything. And I do mean everything. So creepy. The skirt cut at my knee, and I wore my gladiator sandals, that went up only to my ankles, and had studs on the black leather. I had a belt too, to hold the sword that weighed about the same as my brother, and the quiver with arrows and bow strapped to my back. By now my hair is dry, but i left it in its pony tail, so without any braids or normal hair colour, I looked like some kind of elf from World of Warcraft, not a woman from Ancient Greece.

Lake had on a brown leather skirt, and made sure to wear underwear too. His gladiator shoes were no where from modern. They were brown leather and wrapped all the way up to his knee with thick bands and buckles. He had a tunic shirt, and a breast plate that went over his shoulders like some Greek shoulder pads. It looked really awkward on him, considering he was so small and lacked any muscle. His belt with his sword was making him stumble off to the side every once in a while because of the unbalance of weight.

During the preparation, Lake had explained what was going to happen. He was going to put something on the small platform, something relating to the story of Perseus, and we would stand on the larger one. We had set it up in our backyard, behind the shed where the sky is clear of any trees, and area cleared of curious eyes. The signal that the Machine would make would attract the Wormhole to us, and the signals in which the smaller platform had would redirect the Wormhole to that place.

Lake also had two earpieces and mic that charged thanks to the solar panel on the top, and this would help us communicate in Ancient Greek, and understand it. It would also work as a walkie-talkie if the we got separated.

It seemed everything was well thought out about this. The assignment was actually made the first day of school, so he had plenty of preparation for this. Even though, it would have taken less time if he had just read the book. Lake even had a back story for us, and how we would get back. We had exactly a month until the Wormhole closes, which would equal one hour in home's time. On the 30th day there, we would have to go back to the spot in which we arrived in order to get back home. And to track the wormhole to us, Lake had two necklaces that had a chip on the back. One necklace was of a lion's head, much like my belt buckle, and the other of the head of a horse.

By the time we were finished, ate, and used the washroom - which reminded Lake to bring some toilet paper, pain killers, and make a first aid kit - it was 11:55.

We gathered our things, I having to carry the duffle bag that weighed just as much as the sword, and Lake had a small satchel that held the first aid kit, and a pouch of water. Lake went over to the small platform, placed in the object, a book I think from what I can see. He did a double check to make sure we had everything, and when he was certain we finally got onto the platform.

We stood on that platform for five minutes. The lights were on, showing that it was on and at the ready, but it was already two minutes passed midnight. He had said that it was supposed to happen at exactly midnight, but that had passed and he told me to weight maybe a little longer.

I sighed dramatically, "Lake, it's not working. You still have a month left until the assignment. If we hurry now, you can-"

I couldn't finish my sentence. Because all the breath in me was sucked out, and suddenly my body and Lake's were stretched out in a vacuum, a vortex of greens and golds and midnight blues. I couldn't scream, for I had no voice... You can't scream in space.

Well there you have it! So if you like it, and want to read more, I'll like some feed back telling me it's worth to post more. I might even post the second chapter just to get more reads, since more people read stories that have more than one chapter going on.

Happy readings xoxo

qtj