Prologue

Dawns rosy fingers'…

The flash of a face…

Gold Eyes…

The ocean…

A boom then the cold of the sea…

Another face more stern with a flowing beard and crab claw horns…

A journey with the feeling of the water sliding past my face and toes…

Noon and the first time I saw the women who I always called Mother. Sweet, gentle, and graceful features, a face anyone young or old would call mother. The smell of sweet breads, honey, milk, and just a hint of clean gardening dirt. Sun set, bed time stories of Carl the Crab, Robin Hood, and then Peter Pan and a soft lullaby telling the tale of heroes and rebels and people yet to make their mark on the world. The moon's journey, a warm bed. Enveloping sleep that one never wants to leave.

Dawn's rosy finger spread across the sky and the birds sing; a little annoying but bearable. Looking in the drawer to find new clothing then going out to see my mother and give her a hug look her squarely in the eyes and see the pride in her eyes as she seen how big I've gotten. Helping her in the garden wearing the glasses that my mother gave me to protect my eyes. Seeing a girl with starry eyes and black hair next to the lion laying in the shade of a tree. Mother bringing me into the house and saying "come back to me" and me saying "of course mom." Blackness.

The feeling of cold air against my cheek and pavement beneath my feet. A hood over my head. Looking around my shoulder and seeing an eye staring back. Running. Forcing a door open. Heat pouring out. Finding a corner and hiding. An enveloping sleep the kind no one ever wants to leave.

Should Zeus' bolt fail to do what needs to be done,

He has caused the gods to fall one by one,

The foe he made shall want peace till his last breath,

And the hero shall have a fate much worse than death.

The lost prophecy of Phoibe Titan of Prophecy and grandmother of Apollo.

Chapter One

Looking down a street in East Syracuse one might see a teenage with a hood pulled down over his head and not think anything about it.

But when folks looked down and saw this individual they thought "What a runt."

If some one stood fifteen paces away this boy looked like he was about ten. He wore a baggy hoody that couldn't hide his thin dangly arms and meek, mild body. He stood about five foot five, adopting a posture that gave the feeling that this kid just wanted to be left alone.

Now taking a few steps closer, the pale pale skin would stand out from under the hood pulled down past the nose.

Now bring the viewer only a foot from the runt. Suddenly, something changes; respect and fear are gained for the child.

Then he looks up, wary of the unwanted presence. The colorless eyes that could have seen millennia before God connect with the viewer. An unwavering gaze that forces the other to look away or drown in chardonnay irises.

The viewer quickly walks away.

Lawrence smiled to himself but not on his face. Another person got the guts to come pick a fight but forgets when they see my 'problem.' The thought almost made chuckle. Almost, but not quite.

Let's just keep on moving he thought to himself and maybe I'll lose them.

He shouldered his black Nike duffel bag, shifted his Le Moyne draw-string bag, pulled down his hood, then kept on walking.

Just get out of the city. Just get out of the city he kept telling himself. He hadn't liked Syracuse when he first got there and it wasn't growing on him. The city felt wrong. That was the only word for it: wrong.

"None of this should be here" the thought kept coming to his mind.

But it wasn't just his feel for the city that gave him the drive to move. It might also be the horde of monsters that seemed to think Lawrence was some major attraction. Something to watch. Something to follow. Lawrence didn't know what would happen if he stopped but he didn't want to find out.

Thank the lord that I'm too small to be their dinner. The thought amused him for a while as he contemplated what they would do to him if they decided to become hostile.

For a day that seemed like a month, he just been waiting and wandering around the city. Then yesterday, a gift had come from his mother; the Black Nike Dufflebag and the Le Moyne draw-string bag. Both were stuffed with stuff that Lawrence needed or wanted.

As he moved through Syracuse, Lawrence found more reasons to support his opinion of the city. A man robbing a little mini-mart; a father beating his son; a woman abusing drugs; and some homeless people with a hungry faces that pulled the pity right out of Lawrence. But he didn't have time to right these wrongs. He needed to find his way back to his mother. And his way back to peace.

Dusk came and Lawrence needed to find a place to sleep. After searching for a little while and trying a few locked doors, he finally decided that a night under the stars might not be too bad.

Lawrence made a bed of newspapers. He moved around his duffle bag pillow to a more comfortable position. Then, Lawrence waited for sleep. Sleep didn't find him to well that night, so he looked at one of the papers. There was something about some freak storm that moved across the country and odd events in New York City that really didn't make any sense.

Lawrence took out his Sansa MP3 player and flipped it to the playlist "Soft." He closed his eyes, listening to a flute and violin while a man sang about broken love. Then, Lawrence curled up and went into deep enveloping sleep; the kind that you never want to leave.

"I sssssay that we kill him now."

"Of course you do," a horned centaur replied, "You're the only one who'd get a meal off him. He's too small, even as an appetizer for the rest of us!"

"I seen fresh born harpies bigger dan' dat," commented another monster.

"Why are we following him anyways?" said a higher voice.

"You moron you don't know anything." replied a deeper voice.

"Well why are we?" the soprano ask.

"Uuuuh… well…um… that is…GET OUT OF MY FACE!" The deep voiced monster stormed away.

"You ssssssee! We don't know why we follow him. And we're ssssick of it."

A Cyclops stood up bigger than all with a sharp look in his eye "If you have the courage to, go and kill him yourself. It wouldn't take much." With one eye, the Cyclopes stared his opponent down. The snake creature looked away. Satisfied, the Cyclopes nodded, "No? I thought not."

The Cyclopes then looked at the rest of the monsters. "We follow," the Cyclopes began powerfully, "because of the power in him. None of us know what it is, except that it is different." The Cyclopes paused and looked at the ground.

Then the Cyclopes looked back up and continued. "He appears next to me. I look over shoulder and I look back and he's there. But to me, it seemed forever before he looked up then started running." The single eye looked around, daring anyone to challenge him. "No we don't kill him-but watch and learn."

There was silence for a second. while he thought to himself. "Snake Women you will gather food tonight" Grumbles and collection of gestures came from the party selected to get the grub. But the Snake Women went off to gather food at the expense of the mortals.

Line

The mortal of the surrounding area saw two things: One, a skinny white boy that had come through earlier with no car, parents, or money. Two, thievery.

To any reasonable person there was an obvious connection between the two. If only the mortal had considered that there may be mythical monsters with empty tummies, a fair deal might have been worked out (probably not). So the mortal did the only thing he saw reasonable; call the police.

End of Chapter One