How I became my own fairy god mother.

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I looked at the sky, noticing the blue started to have hues of red, gold and orange, the colors of the sunset coming in.  I quickly took my poetry book out of my bag and grabbed my gel pen from the side pocket.  Suddenly, I got this CRAZY idea of what I could do. What if I wrote an advanced poem in it, would that make my voice stronger?  Only one way to find out, so I set out to write an English Sonnet.  The words flew out of my mind and into my pen, perfectly creating the beat and rhymes for the poem.  Soon, I completed the master piece and read it over.

Day 12

My past by which I’m not to be defined,
yet others think I’m under wrong command.
My enemies of war are now aligned,
because of ways they do not understand.
The army charges forward bringing fright.
Despite the power they possess and hold,
from far away the view is quite a sight,
to see their armor shimmer light of gold.
I wish these words to not be of my last,
but chances are I won’t exactly live.
No longer am I running from my past,
for I have never been a fugitive.
Though I have never fought alone before,
I must try if I am to win this war.

The words shimmered on the page when I finished writing the poem.  I blinked and opened my eyes to see that there was now a title over “Day 12”.

“The Final Battle,” it read.

“So this is the final battle,” I sighed.  “After this, there will not be any running away.  Either because I’m dead or I just settle down at camp,” I shrugged, keeping it real.  Okay, I’m not keeping it real.  It took me around an hour to write that poem because it is an English sonnet.  My gods, if you make a sonnet that has a message and meets all the standards of an English sonnet, you are more gifted than Shakespeare.

I put my stuff in my bag and sprinted all the way to the Roman camp, clutching the “blood-soaked” headband in my hand.

I got to the throne of Octavian to see him start to explode because he thought I left.  “Guess who just killed a little girl?” I called out.  “This Egyptian!” I cheered proudly as I pointed to myself.

“I need the proof,” Octavian demanded.  “Where is the shirt of the girl, soaked in her own blood?”

“Excuse you.  Are you saying that you want me to leave a girl, shirtless, in the woods?  If I did that, I bet that you would want to see for yourself if she were shirtless,” I smirked.

Octavian’s face became crimson but he kept his same hard-core expression on his face.  “Don’t disrespect me, Egyptian.  Show me the proof of death.”

I held up the head band and Octavian furrowed his eyebrows in response.  “What the Pluto is that?  I was expecting a coat to be soaked in blood, or at least her own shoe that held blood in it like a cup.”

“One, it is summer.  No one wears a coat in the summer.  Second, I tried to fill her shoe but it is summer.  She wore flip flops,” I lied.  “The headband was the best that I could do.”

Octavian pouted and held out his hand for me to give him the headband.  Two dogs came out from behind his throne.  One was silver, the other gold.  They sniffed the headband, turned their heads toward me and lowly growled.

“So you tried to trick me,” Octavian darkly hissed.  “I should have known that you…”

I held my breath, ready for him to expose me for not being an Egyptian.

“You little Egyptian is not and has never been up to any good.”

I groaned.  “You were this close,” I stressed, putting two of my fingers together.  “This close to figuring it all out!  I’m sure that the dogs know more about what is going on than you do.”

He squinted his eyes at me and commanded, “attack.”

The hounds got into an attacking position and slowly advanced toward me.  “Okay then, Lord Octavian.  I will attack,” I innocently smiled.  Without moving an inch, pumpkins came coming out of the ground like zombies.  The pumpkins were basically like Cinderella’s carriage, but when the carriage was turning back into an old pumpkin at 12 o’clock.  They moved on their own vines, lazily as if they just got out of bed on a Monday.

“Say hello to my little army,” I laughed.  The pumpkin monsters had numerous vines, using some to move around and the others to whip the dogs.  The metal dogs snapped at the whips with their jaws, but they were too fast for them.  In all, there were about eight pumpkins.  They all surrounded the dogs and had them become back to back.

While they tried to bite the vines zipping in front of their face, the other vines entangled themselves around their legs unnoticed.  Soon enough, the dogs were tied to each other without a way to get out.

Octavian stood, dumbfounded by the army that I had summoned.  “I have a lot more where that came from.  If you dare shout for help, I promise that I will have thousands come up and destroy the entire race of Romans.”

“Romans are superior.  No one can defeat us.”

“Shut up, dalek,” I muttered.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

One of my pumpkin monsters left the dogs and waltzed over to Octavian.  “ROMANS WILL RULE THE WORLD, AND CLEANSE IT OF THE GREEKS!” he laughed.  “AND THERE IS NOTHING THAT AN EGYPTIAN CAN DO-“

He was cut off by the pumpkin wrapping his whole body with vines, including his mouth.  I pointed to the pumpkin and smiled.  “You are my new favorite monster.”

With that as my last words as an “Egyptian”, I sunk into the ground to my next destination, the Amazon.

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