Novel & Cerita Percy Jackson Short Stories

It is just one of the problems you experience when travelling with young adults between the ages of seventeen and nineteen. Once they arrived in Greece, the cheerleading members took a rented bus to the hotel they had rented on the Ionian island. It was huge, expensive and right next to the sea. Maybe a hundred yards from the beach. Enthusiastically, Josephine proposed they go for a night swim, but despite the proximity to the beach, most of the team did not want to join. In the end it was just Josephine, April and a couple more girls that headed off towards the sea. It was the girl’s idea that they do a skinny dip.

The cover, for some reason, as if defiant, as if spiteful, refuses to burn, refuses to be destroyed even at the face of Athena’s power, only scorched at best from the edge… but the yellowed pages inside blacken so easily, large pieces of them were quickly turning into crumbled dusts and ashes to the floor, already being carried off by a sudden wind and something like a whimper almost escaped the younger goddess’ lips at the sight… The goddess of shadows bit her lip to rein the pitiful noise in, “But this—that story wasn’t meant for you, either.” Athena straightens. “There was a dedication, Athena,” Proserpina manages to say, never mind how her words are rushed, manages to keep herself from y

he whispered, his tone inviting, daring me to play. I nodded, heart racing, my pussy already dampening at his proximity. “Just reading,” I lied, clutching the book tighter, but he saw through me, stepping closer until his chest nearly brushed mine. “I think you’re reading the wrong kind of story,” he teased, his hand grazing my hip, fingers trailing under my skirt, testing my reaction.

Percy had checked on me twice already, her own eyes shadowed from nightmares she wouldn’t fully share. “You okay over there?” Percy asked from the kitchenette, sliding a mug of coffee my way. Her tattooed arm flexed as she moved, the ink a reminder of the armor she’d built after what those three monsters did to her. “Davin’s still ghosting?” I nodded, sipping the bitter brew. It burned going down, matching the twist in my gut. “Yeah. I keep replaying it. He looked so hurt, Perce. Like I betrayed him by not noticing. But I can’t force feelings. Not when I’m still picking up pieces from Girad. God, what if I lose him as a friend too?”

The rain lashed the leaded windows of Blackthorn Manor like it wanted inside. Elara had come for the architecture, centuries-old stone, gargoyles dripping water, the kind of place that made ghost stories feel plausible. She was twenty-nine, alone, a freelance photographer chasing decay and beauty for a coffee-table book no one would buy. The caretaker had let her in after hours with a knowing smile and a single brass key.

For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes. The w******l policy does not allow me to remove or delete those books, so they will remain there but as a "paused" book. You can find only the introduction of those books on w******l and no else more. But there you can find some covers I made for those stories and that I can not upload here. The stories of a single chapter will continue to be published, of course. Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories.

Most of the pages in the front were smudged too terribly to read anything but once it became legible, I started to shake with happiness. It was a story book! Eagerly I began reading the first story that wasn't destroyed. MY mouth dropped open in wonder at this finding. It was a shadow elf storybook, and a very old one. Page after page I flipped through the words absorbing every word that I could. The stories were full of ghastly creatures similar to the ghoulcat and the heroes of ancient Gwathendor who fought them. And their lady loves that they saved along the way. Soon enough I was hunched over the bed with the little book in my lap and my head in the clouds.

The last page had only two lines. "June 25th. This is the 100th time Dexter has ditched me to go help my best friend in the lab." "What a coincidence. The diary's full. Exactly 100 pages." Dexter's chest ached in waves, and at some point, the tears started falling onto the pages. He remembered that day. Brianna had hit a wall with her research and was panicking. He didn't think twice before dropping me on the side of the road and driving to the institute alone.

The tugging sensation begins again, growing more and more intense as I continue to hold on, as the feeling intensifies I close my eyes and let it take me where it will. Splat! I make the mistake of gasping for breath and the taste of both mud and excrement fill my mouth. Spitting, I stand up noticing in the journey that I have dropped the pendant. Taking a look around, I wonder if this is where the heir has been hidden all this time. Reaching down I pick up the pendant and wipe it off on my cloak. I barely have time to do this before the sensation of tugging once more overwhelms me and the world blurs away. *************************************************************************************

It felt like invisible handcuffs were holding my wrists above my head and my ankles spread wide apart. Tears streamed down my face, my heart racing at the fact that I was completely trapped. “Guys! Something’s holding me down! Help! Something crazy's going on!!" My friends were still banging on the door, panicking. “Sophia? We’re trying to get in! Just hold on!” A foggy, shadowy figure materialized at the foot of the bed. Tall, dark, with glowing silver eyes. I knew it wasn't human, the shape was all wrong — too fluid with too many limbs shifting in the darkness.