Hello readers! So I randomly thought of these stories and decided to go ahead and write it down after I updated my other story (Going to Take Care of You - also a PJO story). Firstly, we never found out how Jason first arrived to Camp Jupiter. So the first story is Jason and his journey to Camp Jupiter.
Secondly, a short and cute story about Percy and his first day of school. This is an AU, with no gods. Just our favorite characters.
And thirdly, a story about Rachel, who is now one of my favorite characters. It's more serious than the others and it shows her first encounters with the Oracle.
Enjoy reading!
STORY NUMBER ONE—WHY JASON GRACE HATES OCTAVIAN.
JASON
Jason Grace stumbled through rocks on a large hill. It scraped his ankles just above his Ninja Turtles sneakers. But that was okay, though. He knew he was close by to wherever the comforting voice in his head was leading him.
His shirt was soaked with sweat. He hadn't taken a shower in days. This is why, in some parts of his journey, he thought about returning to his adoptive parents, saying he was sorry over and over again and maybe they would forgive him for running away. But he knew he had to. Even though they wouldn't tell him, he knew he caused too much trouble.
Whenever he got mad or sad, something really bright would flash in the sky or a lot of rain would fall from the gray sky. It hurt their house too much. He always knew that it was something he did. Something would pull at his tummy when it happened.
He knew it had something to do with that line on his lips he doesn't remember getting—his parents called it a birth mark, but Jason doesn't remember being with them his whole life; there aren't any baby pictures of him around the house. He knows they aren't his real parents even if they haven't told him. He thinks that the scar on his lip didn't get there when he was born.
He knew he was close by. Jason wasn't going to give up—he never did because he knew that meant you were a baby and a chicken. He wasn't any of those things; he was a warrior.
He always told himself that when someone scary came up to him. Monsters were following him, he knew. Jason had just run away from one.
Jason crawled up the hill, holding onto patches of grass and peeked over the hill only to have a roaring noise erupt in his face and something fast swept in front of him. He screamed and hid back behind the hill, still holding onto the grass.
There were more roaring noises but once they were all quiet, he looked up again. It was a gravelly road and cars were driving by. But across the way, he saw some sort of tunnel and two people were there, holding shields and long swords that made Jason excited—it reminded him of playing Legos with his warrior action figures.
But he was also a little scared. The road was dangerous and it was a long way across with no street lights. He wished he had his parents—adoptive parents—there to hold both of his hands and wave to the traffic as they skipped through the large cars that stopped for them.
But Jason was alone.
Then he gasped. "I'm not alone!" he told himself. He twisted his Cars backpack around and unzipped it, inside finding his stuffed animal dog that he named Spot. He loved Spot and always had him with him. He brought him to every house he'd been to, tucked him in at night, everywhere he went, Spot went. That's why he brought Spot with him on this dangerous journey.
Then he and Spot peeked over the hill again, but the cars were still screeching by. And then there was also a roar behind him. Jason gasped as he looked back and found red eyes glowing back at him.
"What are we going to do, Spot?" He asked his dog.
Though his Dalmatian dog with a spot over his eye didn't answer back, he hugged him closer to his body. The red eyes were growing larger, like they were coming closer to him and Jason stumbled over the hill, standing on the side of the road. He almost had to walk backwards because he felt so close to those cars.
Fear was rising in his chest. But he swallowed it down and squeezed Spot. Then he let go and apologized to him in case Jason was holding him too hard.
Look for a path in the cars, the voice told him.
Jason's wide and bright electric eyes scanned the ongoing traffic. He remembered his adoptive parents tell him to wait for the cars to slow down. That's what he did.
They roared past him, making his ears hurt and he smacked his hands over them, Spot nestled in his elbow. He looked behind him at those red eyes, and it scared him. But he put on his warrior face and then turned back to the road, taking his hands away from his ears. He took in a deep breath and puffed out his chest, still holding Spot in his hands.
He searched the road, taking his adoptive parents advice about how to look both ways before crossing the street. And then he saw it—just one small pathway.
Go now, the voice said.
And Jason ran. He ran so fast, his sneakers lit up as they stomped against the ground. The cars honked and that made Jason a little frightened, but he remembered about his warrior face and he didn't stop. The cars did, and missed him by inches. He heard the roar of those red eyes behind him, but he didn't look back.
"Don't look back, Spot! We're almost there!" He cried through his heavy breaths as he ran. He was almost on the other side of the road, just two more lanes. But he didn't stop there, he ran all the way to that tunnel, coming up to those people.
They carried large circular things that hid half of their bodies and long, sharp things in the other hand. They also wore helmets. They looked like his action figures.
He breathed heavily, trying to tell them who he was and what was going on. But they weren't looking at him. He was confused and a little hurt that they weren't but then they raised the long and sharp things.
Jason looked back and found that some scaly creature was following him, but the people in the cars didn't seem to react. Once it was past them, they started driving again.
"Why aren't they scared of that thing?" Jason asked the kids. They looked much older than him and they pushed him behind them.
"The Mist," a boy said behind his helmet.
"What's that?"
The older boy looked back at him, planting a hand on Jason's small chest, still pushing him back. But he said to Jason, "To hide our world from normal people, kiddo."
Jason's eyes widened and his mouth began to open in amazement. "What?" he breathed.
"Go!" the other, a girl said. "We'll take this from here! Get into the camp, kid!"
"I am not a kid!" Jason protested.
The boy pointed at the door they were guarding. "Go through there and you'll find a camp. It'll protect you."
"How do you know I'm not normal, too?" Jason wants to know.
"Because if you were normal, monsters wouldn't be chasing you,"
Jason looked over the boy's shoulder and found that that monster was nearing and the girl charged after it. Jason backed away and ran into the camp, and the first thing he was stopped by was a river. He held Spot close to him so he wouldn't accidentally let go of him and his best friend wouldn't fall in.
The river was flowing rapidly, the water splashing and looking dangerous if he tried to go in. He couldn't even swim. But he had to. It was the only thing that was keeping him from getting to safety.
You have to swim through the river, Jason, the voice told him. He took a step forward, the tip of his Ninja Turtle sneaker going into the river.
"No!" A voice cried. "Don't swim! The Little Tiber is dangerous!"
He looked up. There was a girl on the other side, and looked to be about his age. She had long brown hair that was braided behind her back. Her face was full of shock. "Don't!" She cried.
"I have to!" He yelled back.
"No! You'll die!"
"I thought it was supposed to protect me!" He felt hot tears stinging his eyes.
"The Little Tiber can kill you! Don't try to swim! I'll go get help!"
"But the monster! It's chasing me! I have to get over now!"
The girl looked impatient and if she could she would be mad at him. She had a cold stare and, like he hadn't said anything, she said, "I'm going to get—"
She was making Jason impatient. The girl didn't realize that he had to go now. So he hugged Spot tightly and jumped into the river.
"No!" she screamed, but it was drowned in the water that rushed at his ears.
The water in the river burned him. He swam through, mostly thrashing and splashing around, but it was so difficult. He couldn't breathe and the water tugged at him, wanting to take him away, wanting to take his breath away. But he wouldn't let it. Jason was a warrior and he had to show the girl that he could get across.
He saw things in that river. He heard a voice, not the man's voice that directed him where to go. It was a woman.
Warrior, your fate is dangerous. The world will fall as one of the seven.
Jason tried to reach the surface of the water, still holding Spot, who was wet and soggy in his arms, but all he saw was faces—unfamiliar faces. But the one he thought he recognized, or stood out the most, was a girl with spiky black hair and she had dark lines around her bright, electric blue eyes.
"Jason," she said, "it's going to be okay. Just take my hand."
Jason reached out as he saw a hand with black nails. The girl was helping him and he reached as far as he could, but he felt himself falling asleep. He couldn't move. As his eyes started to close, the hand reached in quickly and grabbed Spot, pulling them both up and tugging him into dry land.
He broke through the surface, air finally entering through his lungs and he coughed, water falling through his lips and onto the grass. He could feel a different energy going through his body, and he felt as if he could save the world.
"I told you not to go into the water," that girl said—not the one with the black hair, but the one with the braid.
"I had to," he choked out in a raspy voice.
"You have to go back in." she said.
"No!" he tried to protest, but she wouldn't listen to him.
"You have to! You have an Achilles Heel, you can't live with that—it's too dangerous." She began to roll his body back in.
"No!" he cried and the tears streaked down his cheeks.
"Don't worry, I won't let go of you." She said as she gripped his hands.
"Spot," he reached out to his Dalmatian stuffed animal lying in the grass behind her.
She took Spot and put him next to her in a way that he was watching Jason. "He'll be right here when you come back. You have to get rid of your Heel."
Jason didn't have time to ask what she was talking about his Heel because he was back in the burning water. He held his breath, closing his eyes, and he tried imagining that girl with spiky black hair. But she was gone. Instead, he saw another girl. She was pretty, with ratty brown hair that was sticking out of dozens of braids in her hair. Her eyes were mixing with colors and she smiled at him.
"You're such a dork, Sparky," she said. "You better hurry up. Spot's waiting for you."
Then he was yanked out of the water, that energy gone from him and he was so tired he felt he could go to sleep forever. He was hungry and thirsty, and lay in the grass where the girl put him back again.
"You okay?" she asked, leaning over him. She had dark brown eyes.
"Tired," he mumbled, but his tongue felt like cotton.
"That's what they usually say." She said, as if she'd done this many times before. "What's your name?"
"Jason," he said. "Where's Spot?"
The girl handed him Spot and she offered a hand. He couldn't lift a finger so she helped him to his feet. He stumbled in his Ninja Turtles sneakers, but she held his hand, and wrapped it around her neck where she held him up. In his other hand, he held onto Spot.
"My name's Reyna." She said as she helped him walk. "You're in Camp Jupiter."
"What's that?"
"A place for Roman demigods," Reyna answered. "Don't worry. The praetors will tell you all about it."
Jason looked over at her and his sight was clearing. He could see a light in her eyes. "What's a praetor?"
"Only the most magnificent people in the world—you know, besides the gods." Reyna said as if it was a routine. "Praetors rule the entire camp. Someday, I'm going to be one."
Jason didn't answer but suddenly, he remembered about the monster. He turned back and found the two campers pulling in the creature and red liquid was pouring out at the place where an arrow was pointing out of its ribcage.
He felt terror surge through him. What had he just gotten himself into?
Reyna helped him walk further as a lot of people wearing armor crowded around him, murmuring that he had just swum through the Little Tiber. They wondered how such a small kid could've lived through that. They gawked at him, and he felt a little uncomfortable under their stares. But he put on his warrior face, puffing out his chest again, but he was so tired, he couldn't gather that much air at once.
Reyna looked up at him, her eyes staring at his facial features, and how he tried to put on a brave act. She bit her lip, suppressing her laughter because her parents taught her it was disrespectful to laugh or smile at someone.
She looked ahead and suddenly stopped as they were in front of the praetors, wearing their high and mighty purple tunics as their stared down at them with smirks.
Reyna straightened and smoothed down her purple shirt.
"Who is this?"
"His name is Jason," Reyna answered immediately.
"We didn't ask you—we asked the boy,"
She lowered her head. "Yes, I'm sorry. Please excuse my disrespect."
Jason stared up at them, taking in their presence. "Um, my name is Jason Grace."
"Where are you from?"
"My adoptive parents,"
The crowd around him laughed and the praetors shot them looks and the laughs immediately died down. They ignored the question.
"How were you able to cross the Little Tiber?"
"I swam,"
There were some more laughs, but these were tried to be hidden.
"He shouldn't be here!" A voice cried. "He's just a kid! How did he even find this place? He's probably a spy!"
"Be quiet, Octavian," Reyna said. "You don't even know him, so you can't judge him."
"Reyna is right," one of the praetors said. "We must hear his story before we decide whether or not he should be at camp."
The boy, Octavian, pushed to the front of the crowd. Jason saw that he was a really skinny boy, with a scowl on his face and hair so blond it was almost white; it stuck up in many places. He wore a tunic instead—not a purple shirt like Reyna. And in one hand, he held a pair of safety scissors.
Jason clutched Spot closer to his body and away from the boy, who looked over Jason.
"Look at this! He's just a kid! He can't be a Roman half-blood!"
"What is he talking about?"Jason whispered to Reyna.
"He's just being a tattle-tale. He always is," Reyna whispered back, but she didn't look at Jason, she glared at Octavian.
Jason looked down at Reyna. She was helping him and protecting him. And she was the one who helped him out of the Little Tiber. He decided there that she was his best friend. She helped him, and he would help her.
Suddenly, Spot was snatched from him. He gasped and looked back. He found Octavian had stolen Spot.
"Hey! Give that back! He's mine!"
"It's just a stuffed animal. Don't be such a baby." And then Octavian did an unspeakable thing.
He stabbed Spot with his safety scissors and cut down the seam down his belly, opening him up and his fluffy organs spilling everywhere.
"No!"
Octavian looked at Jason in awe, as if Spot had just told him something. "It can't be." He said.
"What'd you see, Octavian?" The praetors asked.
Jason snatched Spot and his knees fell to the ground. He cradled his best friend in his arms, tears filling his eyes.
"It showed me…that he was a son of Jupiter."
Suddenly, a gasp rippled through the crowd and they stepped back. Even Reyna looked at him weird.
But then Jason realized they weren't looking at him. They were looking above him.
He looked up and found a lightning bolt was hanging above his head. But he didn't care, he was used to that. He looked back down at Spot.
Reyna sat next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "Jason, do you not get what that is?"
"I don't care!" He screamed. "He killed Spot!"
"You've been claimed," Reyna said, "by your dad."
"I don't have a dad! He's an adoptive dad!" Jason said.
"Your real dad," Reyna said. "Jason, your real dad is the Roman god, Jupiter. Otherwise known as Zeus, in Greek terms. The god of the skies."
Jason looked at her.
"You're a child of the Big Three,"
"So…do I have powers?"
Reyna's face twisted in frustration. "That's all you care about?! That you have powers?"
Jason nodded.
She sighed. "You should. You're a powerful demigod,"
Octavian stuck up his nose. "Which the gods made a mistake. Honestly, he's just a kid!"
Jason stood, and his brain flipped over in his head and he felt dizzy. But he didn't let people see that. He carried a dead Spot in one hand and walked up to Octavian.
"You can't say that to me. I'm powerful—which means you can't be mean to me."
Octavian was about to say something, but then Jason snatched his safety scissors from his hand, turned around, and threw them into the Little Tiber.
Octavian screamed and gave Jason a maddening look.
"That was for Spot," Jason said.
The praetors rolled their eyes, but still seemed nervous about there being a child of the Big Three in their camp. "Reyna, show Jason around until further notice,"
Reyna nodded. "Yes," and she took Jason by the hand, guiding him away. "You're all wet. You need a new pair of clothes."
"I don't need clothes," Jason said wearily as he stared at Spot.
The praetors told the crowd to go back to their activities, but that didn't stop them from talking about this new Jason Grace. Rumors about he would be the most powerful demigod; rumors about how Jupiter made a mistake.
But Jason didn't listen because Reyna told him not to.
"We don't have any more Spots. But we could send him to the infirmary to patch him up."
"No," Jason sniffed. He had to be what the woman in the river told him—he had to be a warrior. He had to prove to the other kids that Jupiter hadn't made a mistake. That he was going to be powerful. And Octavian would regret hurting his Spot.
Jason's adoptive parents told him that "hate" was a bad word.
But Octavian was a bad person.
From that point forward, Jason hated Octavian.
STORY NUMBER TWO—BLUE SPIDERS
PERCY
It was the first day of kindergarten and Percy wasn't okay with it. He didn't really like school, but at the same time, he was so excited to meet new friends. His mom had waked him up, a warm smile greeting him. That was another reason why he didn't want to go—because now he wasn't with his mom, Sally, for the entire day. They spent the whole summer in Montauk, and this morning, he'd woken up in New York to go to school without his mom.
He wore a blue shirt with shorts, his hair he didn't even bother to brush, and he had on his special blue shoes. His backpack was Blue's Clues—because he was blue—and his lunchbox matched it.
Percy's arms were crossed as he sat in the car in the backseat, his mom driving, telling him it was going to be okay. He was going to have fun at this new school. His teacher was nice and he'll meet new friends.
But Percy scowled at the window, watching as everything rolled by. He wasn't just mad, but he was nervous. Nervous of who he would meet and that he was just now starting school for the first time in his life. This was frightening to him.
They stopped right in front of the school and Percy unbuckled his seatbelt, and threw it to the side. His mom scolded him not to do that, but he threw open the door and jumped out, slamming the door.
"Perseus Jackson!" she said as she crouched and took his shoulders, at eye-level with him.
She was mad. He knew because she used his full name.
But then she smiled. "Percy, everything's going to be okay. If you behave, then after school, I'll treat you to all the blue candy you want."
Percy thought about that for a while. He liked that. He nodded. "Okay," he stretched out the word and shifted his feet from side-to-side.
"You be good, Percy," she kissed his forehead and ruffled his hair.
She nudged his back, and he stepped forward, hesitantly walking. The other kids around him were crying and throwing a tantrum, stomping their feet and saying they didn't want to go. Percy was better than that, though. He straightened and put on a straight face.
There was a line forming by the doors. He stopped behind some kids and couldn't help but stand on his tiptoes to see when they were going to open the doors.
"Hey!" a boy popped up in front of him. He had curly hair and bright blue eyes. "You wanna buy a box of Crayons?"
Another boy popped up next to him and they looked almost exactly alike. "What my brother, Connor, here was trying to say was that we'll trade you a candy bar for it."
Percy blinked. What was he supposed to say? "Is it blue?" he asked.
They looked blank. "Is what blue?"
"The candy bar."
They glanced sideways at each other. "Um…no,"
"Then I don't want to trade."
The brothers walked away with disappointed faces, but then they just walked up to another kid.
"Smart move," A small voice said next to him.
Percy looked over and found a skinny boy standing next to him. He wore jeans, a green shirt, and a hat that said: SAVE THE EARTH under his curly hair.
"I wouldn't have traded with them, either. I wouldn't give up my peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
Percy nodded and looked away.
But the boy stepped closer to him. "I'm Grover. What's your name?"
"Um…Percy."
"That's a cool name."
"Thanks,"
"So…do you like the color blue?"
Percy nodded.
"I like green,"
Percy nodded again.
"So who's your teacher?"
"I think his name is Mr. Brunner," Percy said. "It's a weird name, so I don't know how to say it."
But Grover's eyes brightened. "He's my teacher, too!" Grover held Percy's hand and gave him a toothy grin. "We'll be the best of friends."
Percy looked at him, wondering if Grover would be a good friend. He seemed to be, plus he was really nice. Percy gave him a smile. "Definitely,"
Grover looked relieved. "My mom said it might be hard to make friends, but this was easy!"
"My mom said it would be easy," Percy said matter-of-factly.
Grover shrugged, and finally, the doors opened. Grover and Percy walked through with the crowd of screaming kids and they made their way to Mr. Brunner's class.
Percy didn't listen throughout half of class. He and Grover were too busy talking. They were told to stop many times, but they didn't listen. Next to Percy, was another boy with black hair and pale skin. He seemed intrigued by Percy.
"Hey," he whispered. "Do you guys play MythoMagic?"
Percy shook his head. "What's that?"
Then that led to the three of them talking about the Greek game, trading cards and playing the game during class. The boy's name was Nico.
"Shh!" A girl in front of them turned around and shushed them. She had curly blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Will you be quiet?!" Then she turned back around.
The three boys glanced at each other and then started to laugh.
Percy felt that naptime came too fast. That's why it was surprising when he fell right to sleep on his blue mat. For some reason, he had dreams of the sea.
He woke up to being poked in the arm. "Hey! Wake up, you Seaweed Brain!"
Percy blinked his eyes open and rolled over on his back, yawning and stretching. "What?" he asked groggily.
When he could see past the blurriness in his eyes, he could see that everyone was starting to wake up since naptime had just ended. And he could see that blonde-haired girl leaning over him. She had gray eyes and that kind of scared Percy.
"You drool when you sleep," she said.
He immediately swiped at his mouth and sat up. "Why'd you call me Seaweed Brain?"
"Because you also talk in your sleep. You were talking about seaweed." She wrinkled her nose.
"Why were you watching me while I was sleeping?"
"I had to wake you up!" She pushed him and he almost fell back onto the floor. Her cheeks furiously turned red. "Naptime's over! Duh."
He gave her a look.
"I'm Annabeth, by the way," she offered out a hand.
He stared at it and then high-fived it. "Percy,"
She glared at him. "You were supposed to shake my hand, Seaweed Brain. Not slap it."
"Why would I shake it?"
"That's what people do when they greet each other."
"Oh," was all he said.
She rolled her eyes and then got up and walked away.
Percy was sitting next to Grover while they were coloring. He told him about Annabeth, and Grover looked at her—which was right next to Percy. They greeted and Annabeth was pleased when Grover actually shook her hand.
They talked about weird things. Mostly, it was just Annabeth sprouting random facts. Percy realized she was more into Greek mythology than anything.
She reached into the bin that held all kinds of different colors of Crayons. She had all kinds of colors surrounding her paper of an owl.
Percy's paper was of different animals following the alphabet. He was on S—for spider. He only had one Crayon—blue.
She wrinkled her nose at his coloring. "You're supposed to color inside the lines," She pointed. "And you're supposed to use different colors."
He looked over at her paper and found her coloring in neat circles that were inside the lines. He frowned.
"Well, sorry, I'm not a Wise Girl like you are."
Grover snickered, but Annabeth seemed offended.
"What did you just call me?"
"You call me Seaweed Brain, I'll call you Wise Girl."
Annabeth just stared at him. Then she took in a breath, threw back her head, thrust her pointer-finger at Percy and called out, "Mr. Brunner! Percy just called me a name!"
"Tattle-tale," he said under his breath.
"He just called me another name!"
"She called me one, too!" Percy pointed back at her.
"If you two don't behave, I'll have to separate you." Mr. Brunner warned.
"Okay," Percy said nonchalantly while Annabeth exclaimed, "No!"
Percy gave her a look but she stared up at Mr. Brunner and then wrapped her arm around Percy's. "He's my friend! You can't separate us!"
Mr. Brunner just sighed and wheeled away in his wheelchair.
Percy kept staring at Annabeth. "Did you just say I was your friend?"
She nodded.
"Why?"
"Because we gave each other nicknames—that means we're best friends now."
"Well, what about me?" Grover asked on the other side of Percy.
Percy wrapped his arm around his and said, "Don't worry, you're also my friend; we could all be friends," He smiled.
"Like a trio," Annabeth added on.
Grover smiled and tears swelled up in his brown eyes. "I've never had a best friend before," his chin wobbled.
"It's okay, Grover," Percy said in a small voice and hugged him.
"Guys, look at my drawing!" Annabeth said as she held out her paper towards them.
It was an owl and not a single color trespassed outside the black outline. It was like a kaleidoscope owl because she colored different colors in sections—triangles. It was definitely colorful.
"Whoa, that's so cool!" Grover gawked at it.
"Yeah; look at mine!" Percy held up his blue spider. It was like a fuzzy spider because the blue was seriously outside the lines.
Suddenly, Annabeth screamed at the top of her lungs and started thrashing her arms around, yelling, "Spider! Get it away from me!" She thrashed around so much that she fell back in her chair, her legs kicking up and Annabeth started to cry.
Percy looked down at her with a frown. "Whoa. Are you okay?"
Otherwise, Grover leapt from his seat shouting, "Annabeth! Don't worry, I'll save you!"
Percy couldn't help but laugh.
When he met up with Sally later that day, he showed her his drawing of the blue spider, and he told his mom that he would keep it forever and ever. She asked why, and he said it was because it was there when he made new friends.
STORY NUMBER THREE—YOUNG ORACLE
RACHEL
Rachel's class was being ordered into a straight line. The rule was to be staring at the back of the head of the person in front of you. Her green eyes were so concentrated on the brown head in front of her that she stumbled over her sandals, her seriously frizzy red hair bouncing around her cheeks.
"Rachel!" Her teacher warned. "Stay in line,"
"Sorry," she said and gave a toothy grin, her freckles smiling with her.
Her class was being led to the library, where they usually get to pick out books and read for a while. She was so excited because she got to take one out of the library. That was almost against the rules, except when they let you.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she rested her hand over it, feeling it in her fingers. She wore her white shirt with writing and drawing all over it and shorts that went down to her bony knees with fringe on the ends. They had some holds in it, but the strings of the denim covered her skin covered with freckles.
Finally, they arrived at the destination and she wanted to run inside and through the aisles, but no. They had to listen to the directions—no running or screaming or fighting.
It was painful to sit there. She was jumping in her seat; so excited to pick out a book.
And at last they were let go to wander around on their own. On their own! Rachel hated when a parent always kept her caged in, and her freedom wasn't allowed to run free.
She skipped through the rows of bookshelves, her green eyes staring at the titles that ran by her.
One caught her eye. HEROES OF GREECE, it said.
"Ooh…" she breathed and took out the book. Something told her, told her in her gut, to look at this. She was almost drawn to it. So she slipped it out. It was a large blue book that was glittered in gold armor in the front. Rachel gawked at it and flipped through the ancient pages. It had so many legends and myths of glorious heroes that helped the gods.
Rachel was intrigued with this book. She hugged to her chest and kept skipping, her red curly-curls flying behind her, the jeweled straps jingling with each slap against the floor.
On the other side of the library, there were sleek, wooden tables. In the middle of all of them, there was a stack of paper and a bin of Crayons next to it.
Rachel skipped to the table, being stopped by the teacher and told to walk to it before she reached it. She climbed up in one of the chairs, her feet dangling in mid-air above the ground. But she didn't mind because that meant she could swing her legs as much as she wanted to without someone telling her it was wrong—because it didn't harm anyone.
She flipped through the pages, reading it carefully. Something tugged in her stomach and her brain. She blinked, and black started to crawl into the sides of her vision. She kept blinking, thinking it would go away, but it didn't. Soon, her eyesight was completely black and she was somehow under restraint; like something put her under a spell.
She saw a misty green light and a wrinkly face with glowing eyes. Fog or mist crawled from its mouth and it talked to her.
Rachel knew what she had to do. She felt her arm thrust out and she grabbed a sheet of paper, lightly pushing the Greek book away and replacing the paper with it.
Her fingers took a random Crayon out of the bin. She couldn't even think about what she was doing—she was in some sort of trance. Rachel began scribbling furiously on the paper, copying what the mist was telling her.
Her teacher walked by and she took interest into what Rachel was doing on the paper. She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at what she was writing. But her smile soon faded.
The green Crayon was writing out in scratchy handwriting.
She wrote in different places, like she couldn't really see where she was writing.
ORACLE OF THE DELPHI
ORACLE OF APOLLO
GREAT PROPHECIES WILL BE UNWOUND AND THE ORACLE SEEKS ITS NEW DESTINY. COME, RACHEL DARE.
"Rachel…" Ms. Brown, the teacher, said with her voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?" She placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder and the little girl didn't even flinch or move. She just kept writing.
But then Rachel looked up at Ms. Brown, and the teacher was shocked to see that Rachel's eyes were almost white, as if her eyes had rolled back into her head. Ms. Brown took a step back, her hand still on Rachel's shoulder, but her other floating to her lips. She knew well about Greek mythology, she just only thought it was myth. And yet, here it was, happening to one of her students.
Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but it was a different voice that came out. It was low and raspy.
"A Half-Blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds. And see the world in endless sleep, the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. A single choice shall end his days, Olympus to preserve or raze."
"Rachel," Ms. Brown breathed out, barely above a whisper.
But Rachel wasn't done. "Seven Half-Bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire, the world must fall. An oath to keep with a final breath and foes bear arms to the Door of Death."
"Oh, dear…" Ms. Brown's eyes were wide as she stared down at Rachel.
Rachel opened her mouth one more time, but nothing came out. She turned her head back to the paper and then her eyes fell closed and she slowly slumped down, her head resting on the table. Rachel fell asleep.
LINEBREAK
Rachel was sent home early that day because of that. She hadn't remembered talking to Ms. Brown, who was chalk pale and stared at her as if she had grown a third eye when she woke up. She didn't remember anything—except that she blacked out.
When she woke up, she was blinded by bright light. She was in the nurse's office. They checked her again, to see if she had a fever or anything, but nothing was wrong except for a slight headache. Ms. Brown still insisted that she went home and took the rest of the school day off.
Rachel wouldn't go unless she got to check out her book.
Once they let her, Mr. Dare, her dad, came by and picked her up. He asked her millions of times if she was okay, and she was fed up with him always asking her. So, finally, Rachel just didn't answer and kept licking her sucker the nurse gave her.
Rachel always loved taking the subway. She loved going underground and seeing the artwork on the walls. So Mr. Dare held her hand and they walked underground. They had to wait for the next train, though, and so Rachel sat on a bench next to an old lady throwing seeds to the pigeons that were scattered around her.
She swung her legs and kept licking her sucker, giggling when a pigeon cocked its head to the side at her. It blinked and she wiggled her nose, leaning down a little and blinked back. It strutted away, and although she was a little sad it did, she sat back and continued on her sucker.
"Would you like to feed one?" The old lady next to her asked, offering out a handful of seeds.
Rachel gasped. "I'd love to! Thank you," she replied sweetly after the handful was poured into her own hand.
She threw out the seeds to the pigeons, her laughter echoing throughout the entire subway.
Mr. Dare smiled back at her from where he was in the corner, talking into his phone.
Rachel didn't look at him—her attention was on the birds.
"My, you're a beautiful little girl," the old lady said.
Rachel blushed, turning her feet inwards to where her toes were touching. She looked bashful. "Thank you," she replied, sweetly again.
"You're going to have much potential when you're older, Rachel."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know many names. From many years of my lifetime,"
"Oh," Rachel tried to suppress her laughter. "Okay."
"You will save a very important life when you get older."
Rachel stared up at the woman, not with excitement and not with grumpiness. She just looked at her. The old lady was wearing a black dress with a black veil slightly going over her eyes.
"I will? How do you know?"
"I know many things."
"What else will I do?" Rachel asked.
"I can't tell you," the lady turned and looked down at Rachel and said to the little girl, "Oracle,"
There was a roar and a ringing noise, signaling that the subway had arrived. Rachel felt her heart pounding with excitement.
She jumped off the bench, her sandals smacking against the ground, with a smile. "Sorry," she told the old lady. "I have to go now."
The woman looked down at the birds and threw out a seed.
"Okay," Rachel said, a little out of breath from the excitement and she straightened down her white shirt. Then she turned and, holding her library book on the Greek mythology in one hand, she held her daddy's hand with the other. He was still on his phone and they walked towards the doors opening to the subway.
"All in due time, Oracle," the old lady said to herself. "You will have your time—just like the others."
Rachel looked back at the woman and waved her hand along with the book. The cover and back and pages flapped, but she didn't mind.
The woman looked up through her veil and gave a twisted smile. Then she threw another seed to the pigeons.
Rachel was guided inside by her dad as they were in the midst of a thick crowd. They picked a seat by the window that stared out at the station. Rachel got up on her knees and put her hands on the window, looking out and smiling, about to wave to the old woman.
But she was gone.
Yep. That's some of the ideas that were in my head. Please tell me what you thought! And if you liked this one, feel free to check out my other stories!
Crap. School's gonna start in less than a week.
Crap. I'm going to my orientation today.
Crap.
Enjoy your day; I hope I live through mine...