Old Story Compilation

And here's a fanfiction for the HOO version of Calypso: (part 1)

There’s nothing more beautiful than something you’ve finished yourself.
I smile, admiring my work. My garden is my life. I spend almost every waking moment pruning, planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting.
I reach up to the lowest branch of the tree in the very center of my garden and pluck an apple from its stem. The luscious red fruits seem to glisten with magic. Snow-white madonna lilies and vibrant red poppies cluster around the roots of the tree, with wild celery filling the little spaces between them.
Flat, cool stones pave the garden. I spin in a circle. Moonlace, asphodel, crocus, hemlock, rock-rose, poplar… Just about every species of plant known to the Greeks is planted somewhere in my garden. I smile a little at the thought. The gods can keep me here, but they can’t keep me from keeping the best garden in all of creation.
Actually, they probably can, but I really don’t want to think about that.
I sit on a smooth stone bench surrounded by purple heliotropes and green hellebores. For the next little while -- I can’t say how long -- I just sit there, watching the birds and the bugs and the sky.
Eventually, the sun sets. I sigh, but I don’t move. Dinner’s probably getting cold, but I don’t care. I’m not that hungry anyways.
It’s been like this for so long. I’ve been stuck on this island for three thousand years. But despite the general boredom that comes with being locked away on a mysterious island with no one else around, it’s better than when someone does show up. Last time, it was Percy Jackson. Before that, the pirate Francis Drake. And, even before that, Odysseus. Every hero that has ever visited has had to leave. But not until I fall for them.
The Fates are cruel that way.
The sun finally sets, and the moon emerges. One by one, stars start to blink into the vast sky.
I sigh and settle down in the dark, moist dirt, staring up towards the heavens.
One day, I’ll be free.
I slowly drift off to sleep.

---

I blink. Birds chirp and caw over my head. The sweet smell of flowers and fruit is almost overwhelming.
I groggily shove myself into a sitting position. I fell asleep in my garden again, didn’t I?
My stomach rumbles. The smell of cider and soup wafts through the trees, and the promise of breakfast is enough to get me on my feet and running towards the beach.
I almost inhale the food. Invisible servants clear away my place and wipe the table. I head inside to brush my hair and get a change of clothes.
Stupid hairbrush! Where is it? I nearly tear my dresser apart, sifting through its contents for my lost brush.
Not in my dresser. Not by my loom. Not anywhere else in the house. Did I leave it in the garden again?
Also, what is it with hairbrushes and their seemingly magical ability to disappear?
Just as I step outside to go search the garden, a huge explosion rocks the beach. Fire and smoke curl from a mess of twisted metal and blackened sand where my dining table used to be.
I narrow my eyes as something moves in the rubble. A mop of curly, jet-black hair emerges from the disaster, followed by the rest of a boy that can only be described as scrawny. His skin is the color of cinnamon, and his black eyes glimmer with what must be constant mischief. He has a tool belt wrapped around his tatters of clothes.
He starts rummaging through the wreckage, shouting and searching for something.
“What are you doing? You blew up my dining table!” I glare down at the kid.
Another boy. Another… lover? No way. This has got to be a joke. There’s no way that I’m going to fall in love with him.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I just fell out of the sky. I constructed a helicopter in midair, burst into flames half-way down, crash-landed, and barely survived. But by all means--let’s talk about your dining table!”
I glower at him. He acts exactly like a sarcastic, mischievous thief that thinks he can get away with anything. I wonder if he’s a son of Hermes.
“Who puts a dining table on the beach where innocent demigods can crash into it? Who does that?”
Does he realize what a stupid question that is? Ugh! I clench my fists and glare at the sky.
“REALLY? You want to make my curse even worse? Zeus! Hephaestus! Hermes! Have you no shame?” I shout at the sky. “Show yourself! It’s not bad enough that I’m exiled? It’s not enough that you take away the few good heroes I’m allowed to meet? You think it’s funny to send me this--this charbroiled runt of a boy to ruin my tranquility? This is NOT FUNNY! Take him back!”
“Hey, Sunshine. I'm right here, you know."
I growl. Gods, I know. “Do not call me Sunshine! Get out of that hole and come with me now so I can get you off my island!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…” The boy shrugs and follows me anyways. I practically stomp down the beach.
“This was a pristine beach! Look at it now,” I say, my voice nearly hysterical.
“Yeah, my bad. I should’ve crashed on one of the other islands. Oh, wait--there aren’t any!”
I snarl and keep marching along the shore. If most boys are this irritating, then I’m starting to appreciate being alone on this island.
I scan the shoreline, looking for a good place for the raft to bank. At first, the sea is too rocky. Then the shoreline is too steep. I finally spot a good, clear space for a boat to land, and I hurry towards it.
The moment I stop, the boy runs right into me. I huff in frustration and shove him away.
“All right. This spot is good. Now tell me you want to leave.”
“What?”
Honestly!
“Do you want to leave? Surely you’ve got somewhere to go!”
“Uh…yeah. My friends are in trouble. I need to get back to my ship and--”
“Fine,” I snap. “Just say, I want to leave Ogygia.”
“Uh, okay,” the boy says slowly. “I want to leave--whatever you said.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh-gee-gee-ah.”
“I want to leave Oh-gee-gee-ah,” he repeats.
I exhale. This should work just like it did for Odysseus. “Good. In a moment, a magical raft will appear. It will take you wherever you want to go.”
“Who are you?” the boy asks, his eyes ablaze with questions.
I open my mouth to respond but then stop myself. What I really don’t need are more stories about another guy washed up on my shores. The stories are harsh enough about me already. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone soon. You’re obviously a mistake.”
I wait. I wait. And I wait.
“Any minute now…” I mutter. The raft should’ve shown up before now. It drifted ashore practically the moment Odysseus asked to leave.
“Maybe it got stuck in traffic,” the boy suggests.
I resist the urge to ask what traffic is. Instead I glare at the sky. “This is wrong!” I shout. “This is completely wrong!”
“So… Plan B? You got a phone, or…”
“Agh!” I spin and storm back towards my garden, deciding not to ask what a phone is.
I immediately grab a trowel and start planting. Gardening always makes me feel better.
I stab at empty clumps of earth, muttering curses aimed at the Olympians. Honestly! Did they really think that it was funny to send this sorry excuse of a boy to my home? I want peace! I am so tired of their games! Can’t I just live without being punished like this over and over? I’d rather be Prometheus, getting my liver torn out every day, than keep getting my heart torn out every couple centuries.
“I think you’ve punished that dirt enough.”
I turn to see the boy standing a few feet away. I scowl. “Just go away.”
“You’re crying.”
“None of your business,” I snap. “It’s a big island. Just… find your own place. Leave me alone.” I wave vaguely in a random direction. “Go that way, maybe.”
“So, no magic raft. No other way off the island?”
“Apparently not!” Didn’t I just tell him to leave me alone?
“What am I supposed to do, then? Sit in the sand dunes until I die?”
“That would be fine by me,” I mutter. Just leave me alone. Then realization strikes and I curse at the sky. "Except I suppose he can’t die here, can he? Zeus! This is not funny!”
“Hold up,” the boy says, lifting a hand as if to say ‘stop.’ “I’m going to need some more information here. You don’t want me in your face, that’s cool. I don’t want to be here either. But I’m not going to go die in a corner. There’s got to be a way. Every problem has a fix.”
I laugh bitterly. If there were actually a way out of this curse, I would’ve found it by now. Apparently this problem doesn’t have a fix. “You haven’t lived very long, if you still believe that.”
“You said something about a curse,” he says suddenly. This guy takes gold for talent at changing topics out of the blue.
“Yes. I cannot leave Ogygia. My father, Atlas, fought against the gods, and I supported him.”
“Atlas,” the boy repeats. “As in the Titan Atlas?”
Who else? “Yes, you impossible little…” I bite back my words. “I was imprisoned here, where I could cause the Olympians no trouble. About a year ago, after the Second Titan War, the gods vowed to forgive their enemies and offer amnesty. Supposedly Percy made them promise--”
“Percy. Percy Jackson?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. A drop of salty water trickles down my cheek.
He was supposed to come back. He had said that he would. And when he made that deal with the gods, he definitely could’ve come back. Freed me. But no. He forgot about me.
“Percy came here,” the boy guesses.
I dig my fingers into the soil. “I--I thought I would be released. I dared to hope...but I am still here.”
“You’re that lady,” he finally says, recognition zapping his expression. “The one named after Caribbean music.”
I give him a death glare. “Caribbean music?”
“Yeah. Reggae? Merengue? Hold on, I’ll get it.” He snaps his fingers. I make a mental note to make him show me how to do that later. “Calypso! But Percy said you were awesome. He said you were all sweet and helpful, not, um…”
I shoot to my feet. “Yes?”
“Uh, nothing,” the boy blubbers.
“Would you be sweet if the gods forgot their promise to let you go?” I demand. “Would you be sweet if they laughed at you be sending another hero, but a hero who looked like--like you?”
"Is that a trick question?"
“Di immortales!” I shout. I huff and march back towards my cave.
I start washing the soil from my arms. I hear the boy’s footsteps echo behind me, and I give him another death glare when he comes inside, but I don’t speak. I’m only making the gods laugh harder with my insanity.
The boy clears his throat. Oh, great. He’s about to speak. “So… I get why you’re angry. You probably never want to see another demigod again. I guess that it didn’t sit right when, uh, Percy left you--”
“He was only the latest,” I snarl. “Before him, it was the pirate Drake. And before him, Odysseus. They were all the same! The gods send me the greatest heroes, the ones that I cannot help but…” My chin trembles, and I force myself to stop speaking lest I start to sob.
“You fall in love with them,” he guesses. “And then they leave you.”
I take a deep, shaky breath. “That is my curse. I had hoped to be free of it by now, but here I am, still stuck on Ogygia after three thousand years.”
“Three thousand,” Leo echoes. He looks like he’s just seen a god in their divine form -- except that he’s alive. “Uh, you look good for three thousand.”
That is what sets off the most external emotional reaction? This boy is as heartless as he is stupid.
“And now… the worst insult of all. The gods mock me by sending you.”
Anger surges into his expression. “Fine,” he growls. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll build something myself and get off this stupid island without your help.”
I shake my head sadly. “You don’t get it, do you? The gods are laughing at both of us. If the raft will not appear, that means they’ve closed Ogygia. You’re stuck here the same as me. You can never leave.”
The very words taste sour in my mouth.
I force myself to turn my attention to the loom and start weaving furiously.