A Twist of Fate

Waking Up

Blury sea green eyes squinted in the early morning light. It was so bright, yet it shouldn't be. New York was never this bright and right now it should only be a few minutes past midnight. No more no less, so why was the sun so high in the sky? The boy, though small and thin, had a sword strapped onto his belt. An odd sight for anyone. His light brunette hair was short and disheveled. Sweat beaded his forehead and his cheeks were flushed. He swayed a minute as he stood up, then he was still. A light wind caressed his face while a musical sound danced around him. The boy started moving. Slowly at first, then a little faster. He could not think, he did not know. Everything was just there and he was just here. Above that hill. Yes. That is where he was supposed to be. As the boy crested the peak, in front of him lay a castle from medieval fairy tales. It's magnificent stone structure glistened in the sun's rays. It was beautiful. He then proceeded to shuffle down the hill side in a disorderly fashion. Near the bottom, he stumbled and rolled the rest of the way down. His left arm stung and his side hurt. A broken rib most likely, but it would soon be healed. Out of his pocket he took a caramel like square and began to chew. The boy's outline glowed for a second, so quick that it was almost invisible to the human eye, and then it was gone. Out of the castle in front of him came a swarm of kids ranging from ages eleven to seventeen all dressed in black robes. Somebody took notice of him and soon he was surrounded by fearful yet curious eyes. Suddenly, three kids pushed their way to the front and knelt down beside him.
"Hello," said the girl. "My name is hermoine. What's yours?"
The boy shook his head. "My name. I think my name is Perseus Jackson.