Palmer, Alaska.
"The Last Frontier", according to mostly white pioneers and settlers.
Along the banks of the Matanuska River, the September sun was just peeking out from Lazy Mountain, as people started to stir during the late hour of 6. Flickering beams of light fell across yards, trees and cars distorting the path, as families like 1594 E, on Hidden Ranch Loop, began to join them.
Although, some early birds were already awake.
Mr. Aros was cooking breakfast, his wife, Mrs. Aros, fast asleep still. Then, their two sons. Ozzy Aros was digging through his school bag in front of the bathroom door, waiting for his older brother, Wolfe Aros, to finish his hair.
"Wolfe! I keep having to say it, but you-"
"If you keep having to say it, then why repeat it? Hm?"
The blond eldest cut him off, turning off the hair dryer, unscrewing the diffuser. Unplugging it, he turned off the light, smirking at his brother's groan.
"Poor Ozzles. Have to flick the switch back up?" He taunted. Ozzy grumbled, brushing past his brother, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as the other's shoulder met the wall.
Upon first glance, you might mistake them for anything other than family.
Ozzy Aros had flat, auburn hair that was undergoing product experimentation. With his muscular build, above average for a sophomore, green eyes, and round face, he looked almost the clone of his mother.
His brother, on the other hand, looked like their father. Wavy blond hair, tucked securely with a black scrunchie - he took great pride in his hair - and streaks of ash amongst dandelion fell to his shoulders. He shared their father's rectangular face, and unnerving blue eyes. His slimmer, scrawny in comparison to his brother, frame was also borrowed.
However, the freckles broke the carbon cloning, given to him by their mother.
The boys did share some things in common though. One; They were raised on all genres of rock, although Christian rock was not frequently played, due to none of the Aros family being Christian. Two; Teasing of their names was a common occurrence, what else would one expect? Three; Their outfits fell into the genre of alternative.
And four?
They both brought home gods to Mom and Dad.
YOU ARE READING
Of Gods and Mortals
General Fiction"Go eat somewhere else, Kronidiot." Amais has no last name. He is the god of love. Only a slight problem, since he's attending Palmer High School. His divinity, he suspects, will only be a slightly bigger problem romancing the school hacker...
