Yes! My first story yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! her first story! epicness! I have had this story in my laptop for a long time so now i am posting it. And i would love it if i got constructive criticism and angry reviews on my habit of not updating.
Broken
Don't tell
It was a quiet Saturday morning when she woke up. From the nightmare. As usual. She brushed her teeth and got dressed. As usual. Today was the day. She heard her mother say "Perinna, Andrew. Wake up." As usual. "Coming mom!" she walked down the stairs into the dining area to see her father, Percy Jackson, consuming French toasts as fast as his digestive system could handle. "Good Gulp Morning Gulp honey Gulp." "Good morning Dad" she replied desperately trying to hide her laughter from seeing her father, in a business suit, eating breakfast like starved two-year old. "Gods, seaweed brain!" her mother remarked "People would think you don't have manners!" Her mother, who Perinna held in high respect, had just strolled into the conversation holding a plate piled with various breakfast items. "I don't eat like this outside." He eyed the plate dreamily, as if he was already imagining how he'd attack its contents. "Which is exactly why you shouldn't do it here." Her mother countered setting the plate in front Perinna, much to the disappointment of her father. She made a face at her father, who rolled his eyes and smiled. So did she. She was good friends with her father. Then she turned her attention to her mother and said her regular greeting. She knew her mother's reply. She always did. "Good morning mother." "Do you mean to wish me a good morning or tell me that in your perspective that this is a good morning or that this is a morning to be good on? Or are you simply greeting me by saying good morning?" Her mother's Questionative tone was traced with a tone of humor. They did this every day. It was they're bonding arrangement. Other girls went on expensive vacations with they're mothers. Or learned something from them. Her mother, a famous architect, didn't have time for those excisions, so they instead made it habitual to joke (or as her father said "exult their superior intelligence in everybody's face") at meal times. "I guess that I'm saying all those things as one phrase which is saving us the time to explain all those meanings, but seeing that you elucidated them anyway it didn't seem it had any efficiency, did it?" Before her mother could reply a young boy with memorable green eyes stumbled down the opposite stairs. "Hi" he mumbled "Late again. Were you cursed by Morpheus or something?" She asked her ignorant but understanding twin brother. "Mor-who?" she sighed as she explained "Morpheus was the Greek god of sleep and dreams." "Well then, yeah." "What?" "I had a dream." He said, brushing the sleep from his eyes "A bad one."
She half-listened to what her brother recounted from his dream "our dream" she thought but, that thought didn't transfer to her brain. She was too busy reading her parents expressions. They were of guilt and understanding. They were of lies and secrets. They were of things Perinna wanted to know, but when she learned them she would regret wanting to know again. "We were just biking. We just came in, then we sa-" "They know." "What?" "They know." "Andrew, they know." "Don't tell."