Chapter 1, hope you guys enjoy it.

Chapter 1

If you do not have the power to change anything, then you might as well be dead!

As Damon woke from his sleep, his eyes crusted over with sleep and the morning sun shining in through his window. He got up sluggishly and closed the blinds.

“I hate the sun”. He said with a throat full of crud. Clearing it he spoke clearer and ran his fingers through his charcoal black hair until it was just tussled enough to be called messy. “Oh well, I guess”. He said before plopping down on his bed and contemplating going back to sleep before his mother’s voice echoed through the hallway.


“No, thanks for trying though, try again tomorrow”. He said before curling up in his bed for a moment. The next time he opened his eyes he met the cold blue eyes of his mother staring back at him.

“I’m sorry, are you new here?” She said throwing him a fresh shirt. Her auburn brown hair tied in a bun as her egg-white t-shirt hung off her skinny body. “Get dressed butt head”. She said with a smile.

Damon sighed sarcastically for a second before getting dressed. “Alright I’m getting up mom”. He said as his mother left the room.

A few moments go by before Damon is dressed in a grey t-shirt, blue jeans, and his trademark black hoody that he wore no matter the weather.

“Don’t forget your eye-patch!” His mother’s voice echoed from the hallway again. Damon did not mind the eye-patch, but it always left the skin around his right eye chafed and stinging.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he ventured out into the hallway, down it, and into the small kitchen of his apartment in Olympia Washington. A run-down bricked building about five stories tall and ten rooms long, more or less a hotel.

His mother Helena was sitting on the couch preparing to go to work at the local library just a few blocks away. She smiled at Damon as he strolled out into the small living room and plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Morning sunshine,” She said sarcastically as she straightened her hair out before putting on her glasses and smiling at Damon. Her complexion was pale and frail, diagnosed with cancer a few years after Damon was born; he constantly worried about her wellbeing over his own.

“Morning mom,” Damon said.

“Prepared for school?” She asked. Knowing what Damon’s response would be. She mimicked his mouth movements.

“Not entirely”. Damon said. He smiled as he saw his mother mimic his response and they shared in a hardy laugh for a moment.

“Regardless”. She said as she grabbed her purse and her Library I.D “You don’t have a choice”. Damon grunted as they went out the door, down the hallway and steps to her car. As they got into the car, Damon buckled up and his mom started the car.

Damon put in his ear-buds and turned up his music as his school was a few minutes away. He did not mind North Thurston high, but a school was a school no matter how much he didn’t mind it.

He felt the movement of his mother’s car as she drove him to school. Moments went by as he listened to his music before his mom tapped him on the shoulder.

“Were here,” She said with a smile. As Damon looked out his window, he saw the jail-like structure that was North Thurston high. A tall, two-story high school that looked like a giant prison cell than a high school, and the students acted as the prisoners half the time. He grunted again.

“Thanks mom”. He said with a smile as she kissed him on the cheek goodbye. He smiled and as he exited the car, he saw his friend Walter Kevlar standing just a few feet from the entrance. His curly blond hair complemented his sapphire blue eyes in the shade of the school as his red hoody flapped in the slight breeze. His height exceeded Damon’s by about a foot, a fact Walter constantly pointed out to him, and his body screamed of a fighter, rittled with scars on his face and arms, something Damon learned in the locker rooms during gym. Nevertheless, he was Damon’s most loyal friend he had ever had.

“Sup Damon,” He said as Damon approached him in the shade of the school. He smiled.

“Hey Walter,” Damon replied. “What are you up to this fine morning?” He asked.

“Same old same old, same hell, different day,” Walter smiled. “But, I guess it’s bearable now that you’re here”.

“So nice,” Damon said as he punched Walters’s arm, more or less like hitting a brick wall. “I guess that’s why we are friends”. He said as Walter and he walked into North Thurston high. Just by him being there, with Damon, made him want to be at school more, not a lot more, but enough.

“Hey, if I was nice all the time you’d think something was up”. Walter said with a smile as he and Damon hung a left down the hallway and entered the room to their first class of the day…History with Mr. Clack

“Oh I can die happy now”. Damon said as he and Walter sat in their usual seats just next to each other in the back of the room. Mr. Clack was not yet there as he was usually a few moments later for his own class. “History class with Mr. Clack always-“He paused, “I can’t even finish that statement without being bored”. Damon said as he pulled out his ear buds and put them into his phone.

“Sometimes you can be a real downer Damon”. Walter said as he to pulled out his ear buds and started listening to music.

“Only on Mondays,” Damon said. “Wouldn’t everybody?”

Damon looked over to see that Walter was already blasting his music into his skull. Not paying any mind to this, Damon did the same.

Minutes went by before Walter shook Damon awake from his sleep, Mr. Clank standing in the front of the classroom with a look of annoyance on his old decrepit face. Mr. Clank was an elderly man in about his mid-sixties but had the enthusiasm of a twenty two year old man. Pigeon white, straw thin hair rested on his head in a bad comb over and a plaid button up shirt tucked neatly into his blue jeans. Most of the teen’s referred to him as the elderly lumberjack.

“Nice to see that you’re still alive Mr. Elek “. Mr. Clank said.

“The day is young”. Damon said. “Give me a while”. Everyone laughed for a short period. Others scolded him and cursed under their breaths.

“Nonetheless,” Mr. Clank said with a smile. “Glad to see that you’re awake”. He said before starting with the day’s lesson.

“I miss anything?” Damon said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Not a thing”. Walter said. He wrapped his ear buds up and put them in his pocket as he took out his notebook to take notes.

“Lovely”. Damon said. As he took, out his notebook and began to doodle. “Not like I could have understood his language anyways”. He huffed under his breath. Damon was Dyslexic just enough to ensure his failure in school, he could make out words and jumbles occasionally a full paragraph without having to squint for minutes at a time to understand a single line.

“That’s the spirit”. Walter said patting his shoulder. “Now take notes”. He said in a serious tone.

Again, Damon huffed under his breath, taking out his pen and turning to a blank page, he looked up every now and then to write down the notes for the chapter they were on. This month it was the cold war, how it started, what led up to it and everything in between. A hodgepodge of information for Damon to try to absorb into his brain but his brain was just like “How cute, you are trying to succeed…let me change that”.

After the fifty minute, class was up, the bell rung and Damon put his notebook away he was met with an, unfriendly sight.

“Oh joy”. Damon said as Kevin Carter, a muscular football player with the brains of a potato and strength of a raging bull walked up to him as Walter was just leaving the class.

“Hey Damon ol’buddy ol’pal of mine,” He said in a joking manner

“Hey Kevin,” Damon said slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Kevin caught it mid-swing and held it there. “What do you want today?” Damon said, just wanting the whole ordeal to be over with before it even began.

Kevin held his backpack in mid-swing for a few moments before swinging it into Damon’s shoulder. He outstretched his hand and opened it.

“I don’t have any today”. Damon said. Mr. Clank not taking notice to the obvious bullying going on in front of him.

“Don’t lie to me Damon”. Kevin said with a fake smile. “I’m not stupid”.

“That’s debatable”. Damon said quietly.

“What was that?” Kevin said grabbing the scruff of Damon’s shirt. Pulling his face close to Damon’s “I don’t think I heard you right”. Kevin said.  Damon did not say anything, he was not a fighter, but he was smart when it came to bulling. He just kept quiet and nodded his head.

“I’m sorry”. He said.

“Yeah, you are”. Kevin said as he clenched his fist and went in for the punch to Damon’s stomach, but a hand stopped him.

“I don’t think you want to do that Kevin”. Walter said stepping into the mix. He got between Kevin and Damon and just stared him down.

“This isn’t your fight Walter,” Kevin said. “Just be on your way and everything will be fine”. He said. Walter brushed it off and only posed himself in case there was a fight between him and Kevin.

“Leave Kevin,” Walter said. “He did nothing wrong to you”.

“He doesn’t have to”. Kevin said, annoyed. “Just him being here is enough to make me want to hurt him”. He looked at Damon for a moment. “Just something about him makes me want to fight him”. Kevin said as he took a half step forward. “And that damn eye-patch!” He said very annoyed. “Dude you’re blind in one eye, it’s not like you have the bubonic plague or something, take it off!” He said. “Or do you do everything your pathetic mom tell you to do, momma’s boy!” he laughed.

“Walter, move!” Damon said as he tried to get past Walter. He was terrified, but no one insulted his mother. She was a single mother trying to raise a kid on a low salary of maybe six hundred dollars a month. No one insulted Damon’s mother.

“Get back Damon”. Walter said pushing him back slightly. Damon did not realize it, but while he was terrified, he was also shaking violently. He was having a panic attack. “Just breath” Walter told him.

“You’re no fun anymore patchy”. Kevin said as he scoffed and slicked back his brown hair. His green eyes focused on Damon’s for a moment. “Pathetic”. He said before leaving.

“You okay?” Walter asked. Damon, still shaking, nodded his head.

“I hate him”. Damon said. He was always afraid of bullies, or people in general, and the worst part, he could not do anything because he was weak, no muscles, no strength, no courage.

“You and me both,” Walter said. “Dude always stinks too”. He said. “I don’t’ know why that bugs me, but he smells like rotting fish half the time”.

“I know” Damon said with a slight smile. Walter was trying to cheer him up.

“Come on dork,” Walter said. “We have to get to our next class”. He said as he put an arm around Damon’s shoulder. “I should start charging you for my protective services,” he laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Damon said. Slightly annoyed, but laughing alongside Walter as they both walked to their next class…


Anyone here a fan of Percy Jackson?

This is my armature attempt at trying to steal like an artist. If you guys enjoy what I give tonight, perhaps i’ll show more tomorrow, and so on and so forth. Anyways, the prologue to Son Of Thanatus

Son Of Thanatus


As the tall, lanky, tussled black haired man stood against the nightlight of Las Vegas. The strip in the distance as he stood atop the Luxor, he was greeted with an eerie familiar presence. As his freshly pressed black and silver suit fluttered in the slight breeze like feathers in the breeze, he turned to see his mother, Nyx. Her obsidian black hair and pale features made her look sumptuously decrepit.

“Hello, Thanatos”. She said with a cold smile. Thanatos, not turning to meet his mother’s face, kept looking towards the city of bad luck.

“Hello, Nyx”. Thanatos greeted her with a cold harshness in his voice. “What are you doing here?” He said.

“Can’t a mother visit her favorite son without him giving her the negative third degree?” Nyx said sarcastically as she walked across the bright light of the Luxor pyramid, it dimmed and faded like a dying light just by her mere presence.

“No”. Thanatos said. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, even the god of death felt his bone chill with her touch. “What is it that you want Nyx?” He demanded this time.

“It’s your son”. Nyx said in a serious tone. Her grip tightened around his shoulder blade. “He’s in terrible danger my son”. She said. The god of death did not care for many things in the mortal world, but his son, was his only brightness at the end of a very dark and damp tunnel.

“What about him?” Thanatos said with his found voice. He turned to Nyx, the first time he had looked at his mother in eons.

“There is going to be a great war my son”. Nyx said. Genuine sympathy filled her voice. For the night goddess, even she felt sympathy for her children, and her children’s children. “Between the minor gods and Mount Olympus,” She said in a serious tone. “I’ve spoken with the fates…” Nyx said. Thanatos showed little care for the fates, but he worked alongside them, and Hades himself. It was hard not to eavesdrop every now and then.

“I know this…” He said with grimace in his voice. “I’ve been preparing for it for some time now…but what does this have to do with my son?”

Nyx looked towards the city, she smiled for a moment and for a moment, Thanatos saw that spark his mother had all those eons ago. It quickly faded as she looked back at him.

“Your son is extraordinarily gifted in your ways Thanatos; it’s only a matter of time before they…find him”. She said with the same grimace as her son.

“Do not think of such things!” Thanatos said. His ebony black wings sprouted from his back in a rush of anger. He soon calmed. “Don’t think even for a moment, I’d let my son, my only flesh and blood…be taken from me again”. Thanatos said. He looked at his mother the night Goddess for a few moments. His breathing calmed, as did his mind.

“Thanatos,” Nyx said in a calming manner. “If your son is to fight in the wars that are to come from this…he will surly die as was his-“.

“Enough!” He shouted. The air became stagnant with his reverbing voice. “If they touch a single hair on my son, my wife…either of them,” Thanatos said looking at Nyx; his eyes turned a silvery black as his wings flapped in the night. “Then the god’s will be the least of their worries”. In a haze of feathers and blackness Thanatos, the god of death, was gone from the Goddess of the night’s sight.

Nyx huffed under her breath as she silently sobbed to herself for a moment.

“I’m sorry my son,” She said in sorrow. “But it’s already been written…”


It has been quite a while since I’ve been on here, but, it was not without reason. Granted, I don’t have many followers, but I believe I own you guys at the very least an explanation. Aside from working on my own stories, as usual, I decided to take an extended stay away from here and just clear my mind, get new thoughts, new outlooks on writing and stories in general. I believe I’ve grown since the last time I was here, well, I hope I have. I guess that’s for you guys to judge, and throughout the next few days, when I can, I’ll be showing what I have been doing, I truly hope that you guys enjoy. I’m happy to be back.

Never Forget, always try to improve.

Rewriting simply sucks, we all know it and we can’t really deny that rewrites will always suck because it takes away that certain essence that we had the first time round. But in fact it’s quite the opposite. Rewriting gives people a second, third or even a fourth chance to go over their work, take or add things that should or should not be in there, change things around, make sentences stronger or leave them as is. And the best part is, the little spark that gave you the first idea to write that story, it will scream, it will beg you to keep going because it likes that feeling of being able to go over it again and your story will be so much better because of it. will it suck, of course, i’m in the midst of rewriting one of my papers and it suuuuucccckkkkssss. But i do it anyways because, well, I love it.

You are a god

Yepp, feel proud guys you are gods after all. When you really think about if, of course you are all gods, I mean what else would you be right? You create, you destroy, you decide what goes where, who lives and dies, who makes the choices and if no one, then you make the choice. You are in almost every sense of the word a god. You are a writer, but you act like a god, and that’s something to feel awesome about.

Be crazy, it’s the only way to have fun.

Be wild, be crazy, for the love of god try to be exciting in any way that you possible can. Being boring is okay some of the time, but not all of the time guys. Believe me If I had a nickle for every time I was asked “What is the most interesting thing about yourself?” I would be able to retire because each time I would always put writing. But that’s not just me anymore, I do a lot of fun things now that actually fuel my writing. I go to an improve class every Monday with friends, I go to the library to play Minecraft with my buds every Thursday and I try to have fun whenever I can, and when i’m not having fun, i’m boring, simply boring. But as a famous and crazy person once said. “Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?” Now he was simply and utterly…mad. And i’d like to think of myself as a little mad sometimes…and you know what, that’s perfectly fine.

Writing as oppose to typing

Yeah I know, a lot of people like to actually type out what they are currently writing about. This is something I do most of the time, but if it’s a story I know I don’t just want to type out but actually feel what the character is feeling, then I do write it out.
Typing is fast, heck it only takes me a few moment to type something like this out for all of you to read it, but that’s not really fun for me. I like to write out what I can whenever I can, it gives you an opportunity to actually feel what your character is feeling, it gives you a clearer view of what your character see’s, feels, and knows. It’s sort of amazing to do that whenever and wherever we can, that’s why if I have the option, I’ll always write something out first before I even thing about trying to type it out.