Another rush of water comes toward Percy. It is unbelievably soothing, which shouldn't be a surprise because he is the son of the sea god. Somehow it is, though. It always has been. Before Camp Half-Blood, Montauk had been his escape. The icy water was the thing that maintained his sanity. The cool liquid that flooded between his toes kept him from crashing down from the weight of Smelly Gabe, school, and bullies. Now, there is more that he needs to leave during his moments at the beach. Now, he has to abandon even more, so much more. Now, the Camp Half-Blood beaches have to shield him from unbelievable ideas. They have to protect the boy from so much worse, things so much more powerful than before. The water has to absorb fears of things that never existed before. Problems that were unimaginable a couple of years ago were suddenly real. And they have to go; it is the water's responsibility to remove them from Percy's head. The next wave is even more powerful, and Percy wondered if it has something to do with the sudden burst of emotion that came to him a second ago when the magic of the beach had faded for a rare second. The smooth substance passes his toes, tickling his ankles. He doesn't get wet, of course, so he doesn't need to worry about his jeans getting soaked. He doesn't need to worry about anything. Everything there was to think about had been washed away with the first swish of water. It's always that easy. A single drop of it can cure him of practically anything. The rhythm of the tide is hypnotizing, and the ocean begs the boy to join it (he belongs there) with every movement it makes toward him. It's tempting not to give in because the sense of peace is so overwhelming. With each cool glide over his feet, the water makes him forget more. It's not in a dangerous sort of way,—it's not the deadly sort of way common for half-bloods—but a safe way. It comforts him.
It's different, too. The waves are sudden, but rhythmic. They're unexpected, but planned. (They remind him of someone he'd rather not think about.) Usually, everything comes as a surprise to the son of Poseidon. Sometimes it's because the teenager is not as observant as he could be, and sometimes the cause is the complete feeling of safety or the look of innocence about the area that makes him feel like he doesn't need to worry. That isn't as pure, though. It isn't as certain as this. The water is definite. Nothing can be guaranteed in life. Percy has learned this much. Friends won't always be your friends, you won't always succeed, and nothing lasts forever. The water is guaranteed, though. There is no doubt that it is right there. There is no doubt that it is slowly taking him. It slowly removes his mind and his heart from everything else. Percy is becoming the sea—no matter how cheesy it sounds. He can't tell at first if this is good or bad. His first thought is that demigods should always watch out for danger. His second thought reminds him of the fact that he really should be getting some practice. His third thought, the least rational of the three, tells him he should stay, but gives no further explanation. Percy being Percy, who is just as logical as his final idea, goes with the third thought because in his head, that's simply the way it works. He works on convincing himself that he mad the correct choice by muttering things about it clearing his head and he can't be successful without it. The first part is true, while the second is only somewhat honest. (He doesn't need to dive underwater ever single time he gets a paper cut, does he?) But, he needs this time. Sometimes, Percy feels like he'll just go insane with this chaos that is his life. His mom always apologizes unnecessarily, commonly using the phrase, "and being a teenager is hard enough." It's sort of true that the "normal" teenage stuff is bothering him, but obviously, the whole prophecy weighs on his mind slightly more than that. The "teenager thing" is definitely a contributing factor. That is certainly sudden. But it is anything but timed, anything but predictable. So, it's different from the waves. Everything is. Nothing can quite mirror them. They are simply one of a kind. Nothing else can be like that. (With the exception, of course, of the previously mentioned "issue" that files under both the categories of "Teenage Problems" and "Demigod Problems.")
He needs them now, the waves. Just one tiny splash of water, at the very least. He needs the water. He needs it desperately. There's nothing he needs more right now. He needs it. Why is suddenly so impossible to understand everything?
Actually, things are very easy to understand. He's going to die. That's really all there is to it. So, it isn't at all as complicated as you would think. The prophecy isn't as complicated as one would assume. In fact, it's quite simple. Percy Jackson is going to die. Removing all the details, that's all there is to it. Nothing else is really there because when it all comes down to it, he won't live. The other little complexities thrown aside, he's going to die. The choice he's been dreading will come, and end in death. It is truly a terrible end to come to, he knows. He will die making the worst or best (but either way final) decision of his life and that will be it. The world will end or be safe, though he doubts the second. And that will conclude the prophecy. The end. It will all wrap up, and he'll be long gone. People will tell stories of the awful fate of Perseus Jackson, son of the mighty sea god for ages to come, and he will be in the Underworld, facing eternal torment or the lovely Elysian Fields. He hopes for the second, but predicts the first. And when he dies, the imaginary PA system in his head will say, "That concludes the life of Perseus Jackson. The war is now over. The world has now ended. Thank you for joining us. If there is any Underworld for your soul to enter, that will be your next stop. Thank you for taking the miserable journey of life." That will be it. Those are the only words that can come to his head because everything is so final. Everything is drawing to a close, so those are the only words suitable. They have a terrible ring to them. Every syllable makes perfect sense and they echo in his ears. No one has said them, but it feels as if everyone has. It feels as if his mom, Annabeth, Grover, Tyson, Poseidon, all the campers, and even that cartoon character on the cereal box that he poured his breakfast from the other day seem to have screamed the haunting words to him at once. The repetitive vibrations of the sounds bounce off the sides of his head, making him feel sick. Why can't they leave him alone? He knows. He knows that the end is only a little while away. He doesn't need to hear it! He needs to escape it.
But you can't escape death. The one thing he needs to leave most is this, yet it is the one thing that is unavoidable. He can't run from this. His death is approaching more quickly than ever. The plain fact had always been there. It had always been right in front of him. Now, it was obvious. Now it was simply waiting for the perfect moment to hit. His sixteenth birthday that was rapidly approaching would be the end. That would be Death's moment to strike. He turns sixteen, and dies. It can't be stopped, slowed, or avoided. It is his fate. Fate is complicated and unchangeable. Trying to change it would worsen things, and denying it only brings him to the realization more painfully when it is finally seconds away from ending.
The only thing he can do is head to the water. It hardly helps, but it does something. He knows he will die. He still realizes this. Death is impossible to forget. It is tattooed on the brain, making sure that thought does not stray from it. To forget death would also be to forget life. Forgetting death would be to forget everything. It would be to forget everyone he's loved, everything he's done, and every detail of any moment, or place, or anything, and he doesn't want that. There is hardly a solution. There is hardly a true answer. However, the water does something remarkable. It cures his fear of death. Momentarily, Percy is cleansed of his idea that death is a horrible thing. For those moments in the water, he decides that while death is impossible to escape, it is not something to attempt to avoid. Every attempt would only end in failure, for eventually, Percy knows, he must die. Even if there weren't a terrible prophecy leading up to his death, he would die someday. With the water to clear his head, Percy accepts his young death. Every small wave is welcomed as an old friend, for each drop of water on his skin makes him think more clearly. The water doesn't empty his head of all thought, but rather makes him fearless, and adds, in contrast to his original idea, more thought.
The first wave is cleansing beyond comprehension, and its beauty is indescribable. It is perfect.
AN: This is either awful or my favorite piece of my own writing. I can't tell. But the end started to remind me of Harry Potter a little, the acceptance of death. Yeah. That's just me though, and of course I'll never be as good a writer as J.K. Rowling. To even suggest that would be crazy. But I try, no matter how hopeless I may be. Anyway, I can't remember how long it's been since I updated, so if it's been a while, blame the holidays that are coming up. End of the grading quarter, or term, or whatever they call it is approaching which means loads of homework and several tests a day. Is the tense inconsistent? I looked it over several times and saw nothing, but I could easily be mistaken. I must say that I did enjoy writing this. If it was awful to read, then, at least I had fun. I'll put everyone who reads this through torture so I can enjoy myself. Evil. As I said, I loved writing it, and I hope I did okay.
-Lexi