The beanstalk above Jack’s head swayed as it reached for the vexed clouds. Snow circled him looking for an opening to attack his nose and ears. There was no time to stop, but his vision had begun to get blurry. Jack's chest stung as if a weight was crushing his lungs. His breaths came in ragged gasps, scraping at his ears.

The town healer had told him he was cursed at birth to be short of breath by some sort of evil spirit. Jack cursed his… well––Curse, for it not only prohibited him from climbing down this horrid beanstalk any faster than a duckling, but it had hurt his family’s farm when Father had died as Jack couldn't take on his father’s duties properly. His household––at the moment miles to the ground––was put into chaos and Mother could not afford the farm anymore.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman.”

The beanstalk tremored like a skybound earthquake.

The giant had found him.

“Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread!”

Jack rubbed his chest and adjusted the golden harp slung over his shoulder. He took a hold of the leaf’s stem that provided him rest, hoping his chest wouldn't give out.

The mischievous snow flew around him, slicking up the vines and leaves, hoping to see him fall. The Giant was the slowest being he'd ever seen, but if he caught up with Jack…

He didn't want to think about what would happen.

He braced his foot in some vines as a wave of coughs hit him. He gasped for air, but the coughs shook his body and he wasn't able to do much good.

“Agh!” Jack slid down the slick trunk and over the miniature world below. Black spots danced in his vision and he fell onto a giant leaf. He laid there, wheezing with his eyes closed neary consumed by his panic.

His bag.

Jack’s eyes flew open.

Where were the––gah!

A gust of wind pushed the leaf over.

“No!” making a grab for the treasures, he clasped the harp but the sack slid through his fingers. His clenched teeth tightened as his sack of treasure and the golden goose plummeted to the ground.

Thud

Jack winced. No way the goose survived that.

The giant roared, and even the earth cowered from the sound.

Jack could hardly breathe anymore. His soaked hair stuck to his face as he climbed––or rather fought not to slip to his death.

Jack’s feet finally hit solid earth just as the snow thickened into a blanket covering the air. He ran on the slick grass, splattering mud and snow on his trousers, to the shabby home that held his childhood.

“Mother!” He protested against his burning lungs, “Mother!”

A thin woman came from the door, “Jack?!”

She ran across the field and buried him in her arms.

A moment not long enough he stood gasping in her warm embrace, then he had to push her away. “Mother, there's no time! Run away––far as you can! Now!”

His mother stared at him. Jack grabbed her shoulders.

“Please, Mother!”

“Be careful, Jack. your breathing––”

“I know. I’ll be fine.”

“I-I am so proud of you, Jack I–” her voice broke.

“I love you too, Mother. Please, you need to go!”

She nodded, eyes shining, and turned running into the storm.

Jack bent over and coughed into the mud. Why did his lungs feel like they were tied into knots? As fast as his wobbly knees would allow, he ran to the shed.

An old ax slouched in the corner. Jack breathed in the smell of mildew, leaning on the crumbling walls. He set down the harp made from the gold that fell from the stars. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he caressed the silky strings. When he plucked one the note pierced the blasting wind. The harp spread a strange, buttery heat through the room.

“Magic harp made from gold, strengthen this ax; enchant it to hold.” Jack plucked a few notes and hoped it did the trick.

The ax was thrown over his shoulder, and he stumbled outside. The giant had climbed two thirds of the way down. Jack grit his teeth and walked faster, clutching his chest.

This had to work.

Flakes of snow stuck to the long grass that tried to grab Jack’s bare feet. Stay back, The wind howled.

He patted the huge trunk of the beanstalk. He would sacrifice everything if he had to to keep his promise. Jack fought his lungs to raise his ax in line with the giant a few miles above. Then he lowered it, closing one eye, to be in line with where his mother was running.

She was much too close. He stepped around the stalk for a few paces, then lined up his ax again. Perfect––Mother would be safe.

He braced his feet on the ground, raising his ax to the heavens.

This was it.

Chop.

The sound echoed through the air, making the whole stalk sway. Jack closed one eye and looked at his cut. The plant bled sap everywhere––but the cut was true. The deep gash ran diagonal into the plant. His ax then swung upward and created a sideways V with the cuts.

Wiping sap on his pants he ran around to the other side and planted his feet in the snow. Raising his ax he––

A wave of coughs hit and his vision swam. Lungs burning, he fell to his knees, water and mud seeping into the front of his trousers. The view on the ground faded leaving only black silhouettes.

No––he couldn't die! Not now…

His mother––he struggled to find any oxygen––The giant––

When the coughs finally subsided, he collapsed to the ground accepting any sliver of air he could get through the rasps in his lungs.

It–It was over. He’d pushed his limit too far.

His body was…done.

Jack didn't have the breath to sob but tears dripped down his face as silently as they could. Oh how his luck cheated him. Found treasure beyond imagination––just to suffocate on his own lungs. What rotten luck.

He tried to clench his trembling hands.

His promise, too, would die with him.

His head filled with cotton, putting weight on the exhaustion sitting on his eyelids. He couldn't fight any longer. He was going to breath his last breath as he always was––weak.

The word echoed in his mind until he felt sick to his stomach.

No.

He wasn't going to die like this.

He struggled to push his arms under him, only to have the mud pull him back down.

His hand fell on the enchanted ax.

Gritting his teeth, Jack's trembling body pulled him to his knees. Using the ax he could barely lift to push himself up, he was able to prop himself on tremulous legs.

Vision almost black, he hefted the tool––though he knew where to swing.

Using the last of his adrenaline and strength he didn't own, he hurled the blade at the beanstalk. The sound was even louder this time, accompanied by scraping.

The giant gave an ear-ringing bellow, and there was a crack that shook the earth.

The beanstalk fell.

The world quieted just as suddenly as the chaos had begun.

That was it then; The giant was dead.

Jack's body racked with shivers and he sank back to the ground. It took too much strength to keep his body running without air.

At–at least Mother would be safe. Safe and happy with–

He tried to squeeze air in his lungs but there was no more left.

His vision went white and black; the earth reclaimed him.

* * *

The wind pushed the smell of rain through the graveyard. The buttery morning light softened in reverence, shining on the small place of the lost. Bells rung, singing a soft song to those visiting the churchyard.

Jack knelt in front of a humble stone, clutching purple wildflowers. He breathed in the air sweet as morning dew.

Jack had thought for sure he was dead on that day only a week ago. He smiled, blinking back the sting in his eyes. How good was it to be alive! To enjoy something as simple as breath!

“Father, I've done what you asked.” He ran his fingers over the grave, “You don’t have to worry, Mother is in good hands.”

Jack's hands felt more sure and strong than ever, despite the days he had only just escaped from resting in bed.

“Jack!” Mother was dressed as the color of sunlight and honeydew, “It's time to go!”

Jack smiled, resting the flowers on the stone. “Coming Mother!”

KEEFE’s POV

“Well?” Cassius scowled, “are you even listening to me Keefe?”

Keefe pushed his neon vegetables around his plate. He hated the day this happened—Dreaded it.

Temper edged his father’s voice, “Where were you during these classes? Your teachers are furious, and Dame Alaina tells me you were in detention the first week of the semester. Explain this to me.”

Keefe clenched his teeth, forcing an even stare at his father, “I didn’t feel like going to those classes—"

“So you sluffed?! Is this really what you think is acceptable as a Sencen?!”

Keefe cringed. He wished he were at the Vackers dinner table. They never yelled.

“If you are incompetent in your classes, take the blow. At least that would be less disappointing than a son who skips his classes.”

Cassius’ eyes were dark with anger. Keefe felt like he was drowning in them. He wished he could run away—far away.

“I wish you would take this all more seriously. You could boost the Sencen name—take us even higher in society—but instead you choose to waste your life. I expect to see you in all your classes in the future, receiving top grades. Do you understand?”

Keefe clenched his teeth.

“Do you understand, Keefe?!”

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair—and he couldn’t go through with it!

“I don’t want to be an ’acceptable Sencen’, Dad,” Keefe looked at his trembling hands, “I just—I just—I don’t care about your stupid trophies, or your stupid crest, or your stupid family name! Father, why can’t we just—why can’t we be like—like the Vackers?!”

“The… Vackers?”

“They care about each other—whether they're doing their worst or not! Why can’t you just—just—just—“ Keefe wiped away the tears he’d been trying to keep in, “why can’t you just… Love me?”

Cassius’ scowl deepened. “Love must be earned, Keefe.”

He stood and left the dinner table.

Keefe slouched against the table trying to banish his violent trembling.

He felt someone smoothen his hair.

“He's right, Keefe. As soon as you learn that’s how our world works, the better off you’ll be.”

Gisella patted his head and stood.

He listened to his mother’s heels on the marble until they faded away.

And Keefe was alone at the Sencen family dinner.

There once was a bright young lass

beautiful and fair;

Hair of gold, and eyes of blue,

Her home and family she did take care.

The sounds of people filled her village

As the morning sun rose

And she looked around her humble cottage

While her family still dozed

What she saw

Brought her delight,

But alas

Something wasn't quite right.

Nothing was missing, everything was there

Her childhood home was still the same

But something was amiss

But to her mind no explanation came.

So she took her horse

To see if she could solve

The the mystery that had come forth

And the doubts resolve.

So She rode to the river

Flowing strong and fierce.

Letting the sounds of water soothe her

Hoping her thoughts would clear

As she rode something caught her eye

Over on the other bank of the river

Was a patch of Dahlias flowers

So beautiful she trembled if you looked upon her.

“That's what i need,”

She decided with a nod

“To brighten up my home,

So it no longer seems abroad.”

But then she noticed with a sigh

That she would have to cross

The wildest part of the river

Which made her ask if she could live with the loss

But no!

She decided as she looked again

The flowers were delicate, and lovely

And far too precious to abandon

So taking off her shoes and stockings,

She stepped into the water

Making sure she wouldn’t slip

As her father had taught her.

She found the water icy and frigid

As it ran over her toes

That made them tingle

In the water all but froze

She had to ask again

If the trip was worth

All the pain and trouble

That the river brought forth

“Of course!”

She decided then

“I need to make the journey

If my home will ever be the same again.”

She started wading through the river,

And the water rose

Up to her knees and her waist

So much she worried it would rise to her nose

Her clothes were wet

And the water was freezing

And she shivered a shiver

That was not very pleasing

But she pressed on

Hoping and praying

That she would make it across

But her doubts kept staying.

Then the current grew stronger,

And her feet began to slip

And she hoped with all her might

that she would not trip

She stumbled on the sharp rocks

under her feet

Being thrown and splashed by the water

Feeling no heat

“How shall I ever make it across?”

She asked herself feeling torn

“If I slip and fall, I would float away, and never make it there.”

She sighed and turned away with forlorn.

But then she noticed

With a smile

That she was more than halfway there

Her efforts were all worthwhile!

She then pushed on through the water

Feeling a new sense of strength

And her balance was true

She went the length

And when she reached the bank

She stepped in the sand

Feeling joy

And happy to again be on land

Though she was cold throughout her body

She paid no attention to the shiver that remained

She jumped in the air and shouted with triumph

“I made it!” She happily exclaimed

Then she walked over

to the reason she was there

And picked the beautiful flowers

Handling each with care

Then without stopping

Even to rest

She went again in the river

Having accomplished her test

The river still fought her

The rocks still sharp

The water still cold

In which swam grumpy carp

But she was not bothered one bit anymore

As she held the flowers above her head

“I know I will make it to the other bank.”

Feeling courageous as this she said

As she had announced

She made it there

With a feeling of peace

Beyond compare

She returned home

Feeling excited

Showing all her family

Who was delighted

And now in a vase

On a small wooden table

Glows the flowers she picked

Happiness in the room it enables

They never wilted

If only one thing

You take care of them gently

And to one another be loving

Taking this poem

Into consideration

What can i learn

From the representation?

The river of life is fierce

And cold

And painful

And bold

But if we keep our eyes on our destination

And remember the joy we feel with it near

The river of life, though rough as I said;

Can give you no fear.

A Percy Jackson Fanfic

Written by yours truly.

I took two pieces of bread and tossed it in the toaster, humming along to the tune that was in my head. Breakfast. The most important meal of the day—or at least that’s what they say. I myself hadn’t had real breakfast since last summer at camp.

Toast was the closest thing I could get to a meal that good.

Annabeth came in with an arm-load of groceries. “We're back.”

“Did Mom get more bread? We’re out.”

“I don’t think so. Just a lot of snacks for the ride to camp,” She smiled, “your Mom is so cool.”

I eyed the bounty of bags hanging from her arms, “It doesn’t take that long to get to camp.”

“You ought to thank your mom instead of complaining. I’ve seen how many cookies you can eat, seaweed-brain.” She smirked, “now go help her carry them in.”

I rolled my eyes, opening the door, “Yeah, Yeah. Pick on the ‘seaweed brain’. At least I have good taste in snacks.”

Taking the steps three at a time, I ran down to my car. “Hey mom,”

“There aren’t any more bags, Annabeth took most of them. But would you shut the trunk?”

I nodded, slamming the trunk, and taking the three grocery bags from my mother. So Annabeth already grabbed all of them huh?

Show off.

Mom smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, “I’m going to miss my muscly boy when you leave. Can’t you stay home this summer?”

I smiled. The only thing I ever missed about home was my mom, and that warm smile she gave me like she was always proud. That, and her blue jelly beans she had grown accustomed to stashing in the cupboard.

She opened the door for me and I placed the burden on the counter. “So show-off why don’t you—What are you doing?”

Annabeth set down the knife with strawberry jam dripping from it. She took a bite of toast, “What, is this your—“

“You used strawberry jam on your toast?!”

“Well yeah I—“

He slapped it out of her hand, smearing it on the floor, “BUT STRAWBERRIES ARE RED!”

“uh…yeah an—“

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO USE THE JAM I SPECIFICALLY DYED BLUE FOR TOAST!!!”

“I’m sor—“

“Now it’s ruined!” I sobbed. “That was the last piece of toast!”

“There’s one more piece left. You toasted two.”

“Yes but that’s the heel!” I wiped my nose on my shirt, “The heel Annabeth! No one eats the heel. It’s toasted only to honor the whole loaf of bread, don’t you know anything?!”

She stared.

“The last piece of beautiful toast, ruined.”

T^T