The Daughter of the Sky // Wattys 2016

Chapter 10

    I loved storms. The endless, dark shades of grey the clouds turned with each minute that passed by, the anticipation of waiting for the first boom of thunder or the first strike of lighting. I was hypnotized by the sound of rain hitting the windows and fighting against the sound of the ocean.

    But as much as I enjoyed a good storm, I loved the aftermath even more. The lingering smell of the sea breeze mixed in with the smell of earth, the way cool wet sand felt against my warm bare feet and how the morning humidity and dew would wrap around my skin like a blanket; those were without a single doubt the best feelings on earth. Nothing could compare.

    Most people thought storms were scary, or even depressing but I had always been comforted by them; they were a symbol of power and change. Storms were wild cards in nature, kind of like I was.

    All I could hear was the sound of branches crunching underneath my sneakers as I ran further and further into the forest of Camp-Half Blood, ignoring the pouring rain that had soaked me head to toe. I couldn't see past the blinding droplets of rain in my way, but I didn't care. I didn't even pay attention to the furious, relentless winds that came with the storm; the wind seemed to shove me two steps back every time I'd try to move one step forward, but it didn't stop me from going deeper and deeper into the unknown.

    I decided to stop at the edge of a winding creek that was hidden behind rows of sky high pine trees. The rain had let up a little by now, and the mid morning sun was beginning to peek out a little from behind the grey clouds above.

    There seemed to be no signs of life in sight, except for me. In fact, the forest was completely empty. No campers, no birds, no insects; it was just me and a ten foot stack of boulders in the middle of the forest. My fingers curled around each rock as my exhausted legs pushed my body weight to the very top, where I was now overlooking the creek and parts of the forest. The view would have been breathtaking any other day.

My father would have loved it too. He would have killed to come fishing here. Just thinking of my dad sent a pang through my chest and I could feel tears stinging the edges of my eyes. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them in a sort of fetal, protective position.

    Then, for the first time since I had arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I began to cry.

     Maybe it was because John wasn't my real father, or because I was being hunted by monsters that weren't even supposed to be real, or because my real father had abandoned my mother before I even had a chance to know him. 

Then I began to feel a deep pulling sensation in the pit of my gut. I hated my father. I hated the gods. They were cowards, sitting up on their thrones on Mount Olympus while I was sitting on a boulder in some strange camp for freaks paying the price. The least he could do was talk to me, let me know he was looking out for me, and that he had my back. But I knew deep down he didn't care, and my father had probably forgotten all about me. 

After all, don't gods have more important things to do than to worry about their mortal children?

    As I cried harder, it began to pour again. The rain began to pick up intensity until it was a full blown storm, raging on above me, only getting worse with each minute that passed by. Tiny shards of glass disguised as rain pelted the only exposed part of my head, driving it deeper into the hole my body had built between my knees. It was swallowing me whole, washing away every shred of humanity I had left. At one point I even thought the storm was talking to me...chanting my name over and over.

  "Orion! Orion! Orion, where are you?"

   No, it wasn't the storm. It was an actual voice.