The Arrow of Light | A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter One - I Get Attacked by Flying Chickens

I didn't know what a half-blood was.

You're probably thinking: It must be an interesting life to be the children of gods. It's not. If you think that you have a high possibility of being the offspring of Greek gods, I strictly advise you to close this book. Believe in all the lies around you, and you could probably lead a normal life.

It's not fun being a half-blood. Violence, danger, and horror surrounding you on a daily basis. Probably dying at least fifteen times a day.

If you're a normal kid, and thinking that everything I say is a lie, well, what do you want me to do? Applaud? Praise you? Congratulate you? Read on. I really envy you for believing that none of this happened.

But if you think you're one of us among these pages, if you have a funny feeling or surge of power inside, stop reading. There's a possibility that you're like me. And if you know that, it's only a matter of time before it senses you too. I warned you.

My name is Astra Windlass, and I don't have a family. Or so I thought. I'm sixteen, and until a couple months ago, I was just a random, homeless girl living on the streets. Yep, the pure definition of no family right there. Didn't know where I got my name; I just knew.

I guess you could say that I was a troubled kid. Not that I was alone and living on my own, but that I caused a lot of trouble. Most of the time, I consider myself an outsider; meaning I don't get along with people.

I always thought I saw unusual things, like a one-eyed taxi driver, or a dog that was a bit bigger than normal with abnormal fangs. I learned to get used to it, except when they attack me of course. When I'd go to other people for help, they'd always look at me like I was insane.

Well, you probably want me to move onto the story, don't you? Well, here it goes.

It all started on a miserable rainy day in Manhattan, and it would be a miracle to even be able to read the name on some I love Manhattan shirts. I knew I had some sort of reading disability; all the letters would form into ridiculous squiggles and shapes. Then again, I never went to school, which is probably why I couldn't read.

Anyways, I was digging through the trashcans outside of a fast food restaurant in hopes of finding one good french fry, when a familiar harsh voice shot from the shadows, "Hey, you!"

I ignored it.

"HEY!" A female's voice shouted, "I'm talking to you!"

"Get lost," I muttered. Before I knew it, in the blink of an eye, a group of women closed in around me. I immediately lifted a hand, slightly startled by their quickness, "Don't get any closer unless you want to get hurt."

One certain woman laughed and cracked her knuckles, "I'm never going to forget what you did to me."

I kept my head low, "I don't know what you mean."

The woman continued to chuckle and stepped out the shadows. It appeared to be a woman wearing a red Fred Meyer apron over her shirt and a name tag pinned against her chest that might've read: Hello, my name is Ashley Weasley. A scraggly lump of hair dangled from the back of her ears, and I swore I saw a rat nesting in there. What an epic appearance for a grocery saleswoman.

Next to her, a woman with a Baskin Robbins apron approached me, and obviously my attention span doesn't last long enough to read her name, holding an ice cream scoop threateningly, "I saw you stealing from the cash register yesterday, and since I didn't catch you, I almost got fired!"

"Not my problem," I turned away and continued to dig through the trash.

"You," Ashley Weasley from Fred Meyer took a step forward, and I instinctively reached for my pocket knife that I picked up somewhere earlier that day. The rain made my short locks of hair stick together, clinging to my face. "Stole a camping blade right in front of my eyes. I gotta turn you into the cops."