Okay, so this is my story, Lightning. For those of you who are saying, "Oh my god[s] is she really making a daughter of Zeus story?" you are sadly mistaken. This isn't a daughter of Zeus story, far from it. So all you typical flamers just looking for an excuse to flame, look somewhere else, suckas! Oh, and I don't own nothing but about $600 cash.
I've always liked lightning. It reminds me of myself. Most people think it's dangerous, they try to avoid it, but a special few see that it is really spectacular and beautiful. Lightning lights up the nights of which I am born from.
Lightning is always followed by a loud thunder. Some people find it overwhelming, but some people find it like the laughter of a close friend, or the beat of their favorite song. With lightning come people hugging each other close to comfort one another. Lightning brings people together.
All of that could have just been used to describe me. I'm frightening and seem to most people, but some know about the kindness I can express to those I care about. The spectacular things I do so they don't have to cry.
I help repair damaged families, while mine is still clashing together wildly with barely contained rage. All the fury and power of lightning is within my family, and my heart. The family of the gods is beyond my, or anyone's help.
The one god, who controls the lightning that I loved so much, is why I am in such a horrible position.
My mother helped me cope with camp. I just look out the window at the night sky, and am instantly soothed. SHE is the one who dries my tears, while I dry the others'. Like the clear night sky after an overcast day.
Zeus's lightning hurt my father. He put him in a coma he may never awaken from. An accident; I'm sure, as my father had done nothing to make the king of the gods mad at him. Still, sometimes I wonder….
I am getting waaaaaay off topic. I really ran out of things to rant about. I kinda blew that whole cool/cold composure/angst thing I had.
All better. (In case you can't see it, it's crossed out.)
Right, dad, Zeus, lightning. ADHD, remember.
So, my life has been one Greek tragedy. Basically orphaned at the age of nine, juggled from foster home to foster home, never having and real friends. I was the girl with the missing mom and the father in the coma. The one with the weird hair. The whole dang cliché.
In the third grade, I was just sitting quietly in the shadows at recess, my knees pulled up to my chin. My black (mostly, it's a long story) hair in a tangled mess. I was watching the kids playing- wait now, I don't want to give you the story now. I need to get back to the whole angst thing. . (In case you can't see it, it's crossed out.)
At camp, I had thought things would have been better. I reveled in the fact that I wasn't weird, I wasn't a freak. I was a half-blood! I had thought that finally things could go great for me.
Except, when I got there, I was still a freak. This time, I was the girl with the dad hated by Zeus, untrustworthy. Even Chiron looked at me as if I were a lion they weren't sure was tamed.
The thought that I would never be accepted, that I would always be a freak, turned me bitter. They became even warier of me. On the outside, I was dangerous, angry, and unpredictable. I was the one to be feared and hated. My mask gave them the impression that that was what I wanted. But if you were able to see that mask when I took it off and hung it on the wall, you would see the real me.
What I really wanted, was to have my father back. To have people like me and be sympathetic, pity me at least. I wished I could go somewhere and not act like I hated everything and everyone. Truth be told, I think they're concerned that I might start the next war of the gods and actually be a big threat. Ha, I'd then be noticed.
These paragraphs are getting noticeably longer.
Back on topic, my only lucky break was when Jayden came. He was the son of Zeus, which made me laugh and remain standing when everyone else bowed when he was claimed. That got me a whole week's worth of kitchen andstable cleaning duty. Can't forget the coffin like clouds and rumbling thunder. The random lighting strikes were stopped as soon as Zeus realized that I actually enjoyed those. I'm a lightningomaniac. I'm fairly certain that that isn't a real word. Well, crazy is.
Jayden was shadowing me for half a week before I finally snapped and told him that if he was going to stalk me, he might as well be useful and help me the, well, next came a profanity, chores. To my utter shock he complied, and then told me to watch my language. That resulted in a huge fight which finished with me shouting some more profanities at him and leaving him to finish my punishment for me.
Later that night my mother told me it wasn't wise to make enemies with a son Zeus, and made me apologize. At midnight. This time it was Jayden shouting the profanities, and, to shut him up, I slapped him and told him to just accept the darned (abridged) apology. He relented and we both went back to bed. It wasn't until Jayden, somewhat forcibly, "insisted" that I was on his team for capture the flag that I realized I had made my first friend.
Due to it being a night game, I was stronger and we won. Yet everyone still hated me. It's a small world after all.
After a particularly rough day, I was crying in my bed when there was a knock at the door. It was Jayden.
Long story short, he saw how upset I was, we snuck out and he got his dad to make in impromptu thunder storm.
Yet, for some reason, the fact that I had a friend, the son of Zeus, made everyone hate me more. Things became rougher. They stopped with simple name calling and ignoring me. The abuse got physical. Whenever we played capture the flag, groups always came straight at me, and tried to hurt me. More often than not, I ended up waking in the infirmary, bruised, while some of the people on my team yelled at me for falling asleep.
I hated every single one of them.
Jayden was barely any better. All he did was tell me to suck up my tears and go beat the crap out of them. And then he'd yell at me for letting them get to me.
Then little Dan came.
The little kid was the first child of Phobos, god of fear. He was only eight years old, yet he had half the camp afraid him. He beat my record by one year.
He got a whole cabin to himself. The others would whisper things about him, his aunts and uncles only showing the smallest traces of pity. One day he came up to me. He was battered and bruised, a premature scowl on his face. It shocked me, on the inside, that this was what I might have looked like that when I first came. Admittedly, I probably still do. And when the kid opened his mouth, my jaw hit the ground.
According to him, I was just like him. Both different, both hated for who we are. No one trusted us, we were different because of our parents. We were both outcasts.
Freaks in a world of freaks.
It was then and there that I decided that I wouldn't let anyone else, especially that young, be like that again. Call me crazy, it was a rather big idea, but hey, you know what they say, aim high and you might not get exactly what you wanted, but something good enough. Or something like that.
With that, I made a couple of friends. Well, a couple more anyway. Some of the people just laughed at me and told me what a freak I was. Hey, you can't win 'em all.
Back to the lightning analogies/ metaphors.
Lightning, it is wild unpredictable, uncontrollable. Dangerous, and just about every other adjective/ adverb you can think of. Lightning is me. I am lighting.
So, yeah, you basically get an idea of what a shit-hole my life is. Maybe I'll tell you more one day, maybe not.