Zelus (Perseus Reimagined) (BXB)

Chapter 13

Zelus is who I am now. A flightless and powerless daimon. And Jonathan is dead.

???

I STAND BY THE SHORES of the pristine white sand beach. The air is pregnant with the scent of salt as they rearrange my hair and cause the ends of my tunic to dance like a flag. The waves ascend and descend around my feet, sometimes tangling clumps of seaweed and other small treasures of the sea behind. My eyes soar high above the cauliflower-shaped clouds guarding the morning sun. Its warmth brings peace to my cheeks. The ocean reflects the blue of the sky, painting a magnificent canvas.

A new day is here, but will it be the same as yesterday?

Whenever dawn arrived, I kept hoping to wake up in my own bed, in my old life. And I'll gaze around my room, laughing in relief as I examine its imperfections, like the dirty laundry on the chair that I kept forgetting to wash, old books tossed and tumbled on my desk, and my gadget cables tangled in a knot. Instead, I constantly rise from my wood of a bed, dressed in a flimsy chiton and having my back sore from sleeping on my wings. It was no different than waking after hours of sleeping on your arm.

Not a day goes by when I do not miss the familiarities of my present life. I missed the food. Late-night frozen pizzas, mom's famous spaghetti Bolognese with extra meatballs, and sugary treats such as chocolate and ice cream. The food in this century is nothing but stale bread, plain meat and vegetables, and a shit ton of fruits. I loved apples. I'd always have them every night before heading to bed. However, after having over three of them for every meal in the school cafeteria, I loathe the sight of it, let alone the taste. I'd rather starve or choke on raw meat.

I miss my hoodies, jeans, shorts, and oversized t-shirts. I've never understood the value of fashion, even after taking a fashion design course in college. Only by living in a different century did I learn. The people here only wore tunics or chitons in many different patterns and sizes. And only upper-class citizens are permitted to purchase such expensive clothing where the fabrics are made from pure cotton, animal fur, leather, and silk. The opposite class is left with fewer options, mostly the shorter, plain tunics made from wool, like mine. I guess I'm somewhat in the middle, as I also own silk material tunics.

While I miss my clothes and wish to feel the comforts of my favorite hoodie around my body one last time, I miss nothing regarding footwear. I wore gladiator sandals back then; now, everyone's wearing them. My legs had the pleasure of trying over thirteen pairs of sandals, each with a unique appearance. My favorite is pure leather, which supports my feet, especially on scourging hot days when the roads are burning, and the remaining straps reach above my knees. I adore the footwear of this century. Probably the only thing I'll ever admire.

Material possessions aside, I missed Ryan the most. I missed waking up with my face drenched in her slobber, the loyalty of following me everywhere I went, our cuddling naps by the couch, and our trip to the dog park where I'd watch her have fun with the other dogs. Every night, after praying that I'll wake up in my own room the next day, I'll close my eyes and imagine Ryan sitting in front of me as I place my palm over her head, pretending she's really here. If I remained in this century forever, I would want to remember how Ryan's head felt in my hands. The size, her fur, the warmth, everything.

I missed her the most.

I stroll along the never-ending shores, the tip of my wings dragging by the sand, my footprints leaving a trail. The pathway is unknown, but it doesn't matter. I was already lost a month ago when I came to the eighth century.

Mom and dad, Max, Victoria, Valerie... Ryan. My family... they're gone. And I wonder if I'm the one to blame. Perhaps they exist in an alternate reality I'm not a part of, or I never truly existed, to begin with.