Dear Percy,

Everything's fine here. The society assembled a good amount of clothes yesterday, you'd never imagine that people could be so kind. I'm not sure where we're shipping this batch of to but Mrs Lorcroft says it might be Europe. That's where you are, isn't it? If it is, it must be beautiful there. I know its rather stupid of me to be talking about something like the scenery, but I don't really know what else to say.

The little boy who lives down the street- Martha's son- misses you. Did you know he was waiting outside on the stoop, with that yo-yo he always has yesterday? He asked me where you where. The conversation went something like this:

"Where's Mr Percy, ma'am?"

"He's gone away to fight. He's a soldier now."

His face lit up so brightly- like the lights on the first Christmas tree we managed to put up last year. I could see he was so proud to have known you and Percy, it made me so proud.

Then agan, I'm always proud to be your mother.

I remember you being little like him, long ago. There used to be a boy down the street- I've forgotten his name, old age, I suppose- who used to get bullied all the time. You'd come home and tell me about it, about how he was poor and couldn't afford lunch. We made him cookies, remember? And then your teacher wrote me that letter to say that you'd beat up the boys who were hounding him.

Honestly, I knew I was supposed to angry. But I couldn't help but be proud of you.

You're my son, and that's more than enough for me.

I'm sorry, nostalgia- the curse of the aging. Forgive your mother, Percy.

With the new rationing, blue dye's a bit hard to come by, just thought you should know. Anyway, I'm not fond of the sound of the army food they've been giving you. But you're strong, you'll make it I'm sure.

Well, the lamp's gone dim and I've got to take in the wash.

Stay safe, my son.

Love, your mother.

Percy Jackson had always loved the ocean; hell, he adored it with every fibre of his being. But he had never seen anything as beautiful as the craggy shores of Cornwall.

It could have been the icy chill as it breathed salt into his dry lips.

It could have been the delicate, powerful sea flecked with white crusted spindrift as it slammed into angry rocks.

It could have been anything, really.

In any case, he was now hurtling towards the war in Europe, where it raged undaunted. Growing up where the bay had been mostly Pacific, he had never experienced the sheer beauty of the forbidding Atlantic.

The ship pressed forwards through the steep waves. Overhead, a storm was brewing.

"Fucking hell, that does not look good." It was his mate Leo Valdez; a wiry little boy with something to prove. "My Tia did not like storms, at all. But then she was a little messed up in the head, eh?"

Percy laughed. "Whatever, man. Just feels good to finally be out on the sea."

"Amigo, we were stationed at Cornwall for three weeks and you went to the beach every day. 'Finally' my old Tia's foot."

Percy grinned. "I don't need your sass, flame head."

"Flame head? And what in hell's name is that supposed to mean?"

"To be honest? I couldn't think of anything better."

They were nudging each other for a couple of minutes as the briny breeze laughed through their hair when the alarm sounded. The mood turned wintry and thunder crashed as shouts began to echo from the main decks.

Below them, the floorboards rumbled. Percy bit back a wild spinning fear; he knew that sound.

"U-boat!" Someone shouted desperately. "We've been hit by a torpedo, fucking damn!"

Chaos had erupted below decks as frantic soldiers did all they could to defend themselves and stop the damage. Face pale, Leo cast Percy a terrified look that he quickly replaced with bravado as they both raced below-decks according to drill.

Halfway through their run, as the sky and the sea sang a violent hymn, another torpedo brushed through the ship, knocking Percy off his feet.

His lower ankle was bleeding and he pulled himself up, wincing.

Leo was nowhere to be seen.

Another blast rocketed him off into the sea's clammy embrace. Percy had been spending all his life swimming, however; he managed to himself afloat, his head bobbing above the churning waves as his head danced in a furious siren frenzy.

The ship was quickly descending into the throes of the ocean and Percy felt so helpless and useless and his friends were aboard, oh god, his friends-

It had begun to pour thick showers that accentuated the sinking of the ship. Percy was desperately trying to keep himself afloat as the water twisted him about and he gurgled.

His friends-

The locals had a different name for mermaids; merry maids, they were called.

Percy was beginning to descend and there was nothing he could do about it. His fingers desperately grasped for air as his head was eaten by the biting salty ocean, spindrift curling her white fingers into his eyes as he gave out his last breath and let the ocean take him down under.

The sky wept as her sister gently carried him into the cold hollows where she kept her best treasures.

"Dear Lord..."

"What is it, Martha?"

The woman pointed across the street, where an army jeep was rumbling down. Someone in another house had put up the neighbourhood' s first sign of an overseas casualty, the Silver Star. Missing in action.

Sally's breath caught in her throat like lamp-lights in mists as the jeep slowed, approaching them.

A young man got out, his clean-shaven face uncomfortable. There was a creamy letter in his hands. His eyes glanced up at the porch- her porch.

God, no. Please.

Please.

"Mrs Sally Jackson?"

Yes.

"Yes." She whispered again, her voice a garbled croak. The little boy had come again, the yo-yo dangling from his sticky fingers. Martha rushed forward and pulled him away by the shoulders.

The sky was very blue.

"I..." The soldier looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. "I'm sorry to inform you miss, but your son..."

"What was it?" She felt surprisingly strong despite the pounding in her head.

"He was very brave. It was a sea accident..."

"The sea."

"I'm sorry."

"Mother, when can we go back to the beach?"

"Next month perhaps." Her little boy was growing bigger but his eyes were the same. Green like his father's.

"I like the beach. I like the sea." Just like his father; but he was better. He was kinder, he was brave. He was good.

"Do you?" She ruffled his hair.

"One day I'm going to be a merman- they live under the sea, don't they, mum? And they get to be underwater every day! That'll be fun."

How cruel.