Percy Jackson and the One-Shots

2019 Christmas Special

At the shoreline of the beach, a young boy of 13 years old stood solemnly as he stared out blankly into the rippling waves. He had wrapped himself in a thick winter coat to protect him from the harsh biting of the whistling December winds. Atop his crown nestled a simple black beanie with a blue pompom at the very top. He shuffled side to side in his boots, the blue ones his mother bought him years ago with the hard-earned money she'd earned that week in the multitude of jobs she had.

He stuffed his gloved hand into his pocket and brought out a small, square paper. He stared curiously at the picture inked onto the slip of paper, which he'd learned was called a Polaroid picture. His mom had given him this picture at her deathbed and told him to, "look towards the waves, and wave back." At first, he'd laughed through his tears, thinking that she was trying to take his mind off of her sickly figure with jokes, but now, he realized what she meant.

"We used to call each other the moon and tide." A healthy, pretty, young woman hummed to her son, who was enveloped in her arms. The young child, who was only three years old, took comfort from his mother's words. He had just had a nightmare of his mother leaving him alone in the dark of his closet, laughing as the monster hidden beneath the layers of clothes dragged him down into the unknown with its gnarly, callous claws wrapped around his ankles just above his dolphin slippers.

He had woken up in tears, and with his mother's arms wrapped tightly around him to comfort him. She had woken from her slumber due to his flails and cries, and although she was tired from work, she was patient with him and did not scold him. Instead, she told him stories to distract him from the dark pits of his closet, hiding the beckoning monsters who cried for him to "come and play, little boy."

"Your father said he was the tides of the sea being controlled by his attraction to me, the ever lovely moon." His mother said soothingly. He was still too young to understand most of it, but to this day, he still remembers this earliest memory of her arms around his frail, toddler body and her silky voice murmuring into his ear in the darkness of the night.

"He said that just like our moon, I was one of a kind, and he was just a lucky man to have found someone like me." His mother hummed with nostalgia. He wiggles in her arms and babbled out a little, "baba."

"Yes, your father had always called himself ordinary. Little did he know that he was the one who was special. He was a man of the waves, one with the ocean. He was a boat captain who navigated with as much ease as he used to breathe. He was an Olympic swimmer once, too," his mom swooned a bit, and leaned back into the bed, startling and confusing her young son. "Oh, sweetheart, you should've seen him slice through the water. He was truly one with the waves, as you will grow up to be, too." His mother ran her fingers across his sensitive sides to emphasize, and he giggled at the ticklish feeling.

"Mama," he called lovingly to who he saw as his beaming guardian angel. "Mama."

"Baby," his mother cooed dotingly, dutifully cradling him in her arms and humming until he was a snoring bundle of flesh and bone.

"Mama," the boy called longingly out to the waves. He clutched the picture in his hand, and brought it to his chest with tears prickling at his eyes. "Mama, papa."

The waves lazily rolled towards his booted feet in a hypnotizing pattern. He felt himself longing to jump into the waves, letting the water envelope him in an embrace like the ones his mother used to give him after he awoke from his bed with soft cries and pants. He found himself longing for the father he never had, the tides to his mother's moon.

"He never left us. No matter what happens, remember this, baby. Your father was noble and chivalrous, and he always thought of others before himself." His mother reminded him when she caught him glaring hatefully at a small picture of his father from before he was born. His father was beaming at the camera, with an equally smiley mom embracing him from the back. Her chin was rested on his shoulder, and her joyful, youthful face stared taunting back at the little boy.