Category: reading

Blood of Olympus Or End of Olympus?

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By Gwyneth Schloer

Blood of Olympus Or End of Olympus?

The giants have risen along with thousands of long passed-away monsters who have only one thought on their minds: “Awake Gaea and take revenge”. In this finale to a long and adventure-filled series, heroes Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Leo, Piper, Hazel, Nico, Frank, Reyna, and Coach Hedge are aboard the Argo II trying to save the world from destruction, as the Greek and Roman camps attempt to slaughter each other.

The Mother Earth Goddess, Gaea, is rising from her once eternal slumber, and the only thing in the way of her rising, is the blood of a male and female hero, the Blood of Olympus. If she wakes, it is almost certain the world will end. Caught up in their petty rivalry that has taken place for hundreds of years, the Roman camp doesn’t even know that they should be helping the heroes fight against Gaea. Malicious, self-centered and evil Octavian decides it is the camp’s best interest to target and kill the Greek camp in order to end the God’s silence. What the Romans and Octavian don’t know is that the Gods are silent because they are suffering from an extreme case of multiple personailty disorder. Due to the conflict taking place between the Romans and the Greeks, the Roman and Greek sides of the Gods both want their side to win, so the Gods’ brains are constantly switching between personalites. In order to stop this so that the Gods can assist in the saving of the world, the two sides must stop fighting. Only then will the demigods and Gods be able to team up and defeat Gaea and her evil army of Giants. With Octavian in charge manipulating the Roman legion’s minds, there is no chance that peace will happen any time soon. The only chance that the Greeks have at surviving relies on the Athena Parthenos statue that was retrieved by the demigod heroes. It is said that the statue has magical powers, so the heroes decide this might be a good way to defend the Greeks from the pending Roman attack. The only trouble is, how are they to get it across the world in such a small amount of time? On the other side of the world, while Reyna, Nico, and Coach Hedge attempt to bring the Athena Parthenos to Long Island, its home, the heroes on Argo II are trying to kill all the giants that have risen in order to make sure they don’t succeed in awaking Gaea.

Writer Rick Riordan provides an outstanding ending to his five-part epic, Heroes of Olympus, in The Blood of Olympus. Not only does he bring back the stories of the Gods and the heroes, but he also inserts jokes, slang, references, and items relevant to today’s society, such as a Wii remote and the series Doctor Who. The dynamic characters, or heroes, in The Blood of Olympus represent the ideal humans and their flaws and imperfections. Even the relationships between each character were carefully thought out based on what mood the character was in, who was in the room, and what had just happend or what was about to happen. In this desperate fight to stop the ever-nearing end of the world, the author mixed in stories of love, tragedy, and comedy. This modern twist on Greek and Roman mythology deserves a full five-star rating.

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The Fault in Our Thoughts
By:  Sreya Palnati
There is more to this world than grades, beauty, and gossip.  There are things that are more “pure” in the world such as friendship, kindness, and perseverance.  It feels as if the fact that we are being reminded of the same thing repeatedly wears down the actual meaning of the idea.  In the book The Fault in Our Stars, John Green has a way of presenting this idea that continues to blow my mind every time I read it. 
This author tells a delectable love story.  Although this story isn’t the stereotypical relationship, it relates to modern relationships in many ways.  For example, not everyone is perfect.  It is okay to have imperfections.  Hazel and Augustus learn to accept each other’s imperfections.  This is necessary in many of today’s relationships.  This is because people are constantly growing to be more diverse.  We are learning our own imperfections and different natural talents.  Even though I may not have uncovered any natural talents, I am still learning more about myself.  In the past few years, I have learned to accept who I am.  I learned not to be someone else, the person who I wish I was.  Hazel truly motivated me to feel this way.  She doesn’t change who she is throughout the book, even when people tell her about her limitations. 
Also, it’s okay to make small mistakes once in a while; it is not the end of your life.  Well in Hazel’s point of view, her life could end any minute.  This shows me that other people have it worse.  I shouldn’t be stressing over my small “problems” when it could be much worse.  It actually took me a while to learn this.  At one point in the summer, I realized that I was acting really spoiled and had become very lazy.  That was when I knew that I had to change my ways.  Reading this book made me realize that I was lucky just to be living.  There are people in this world who don’t sleep at night with full stomachs, people who can only take a bath every other day.   Some people have to even walk tens of miles just to get some medicine.  Now here I am in my room too lazy to go downstairs and wash my clothes.  It made me feel ashamed.  I felt as if I was taking advantage of my circumstances, which I was.  Nowadays, I take the time to appreciate what I was given.  Hazel’s delayed death allowed her to fall in love with Augustus Waters, a persistent and truly ambitious young man.  She was given a chance, a chance to start over, build up her life again.  She definitely made the right decisions and used her second chance to be happy.  She experienced things she never had before. 
I hope to someday positively impact someone’s life the way Hazel did.  I want to make them think “I sure am happy Sreya was in my life!”  I want them to know me for who I am, not somebody I made up on the top of my mind.  I want them to remember me at times of doubt, fear, and sadness.  I want them to replace those feeling with faith, hope, and happiness when they think of me.  In this book, Hazel impacted Augustus’ life in a way that I know I will probably never achieve.  She taught him that there are people in the world who care about him and stuck to her own beliefs while showing Gus the true meaning of life. 

This book shows the ups and downs of life and how we should appreciate the good things instead of being concerned with the bad things.  Just live in the moment and be thankful for what you are given.  After all, “you don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do get to choose who hurts you!”  Take advantage of that fact and just be happy!  

A Joyous Day

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A Joyous Day

Chirp, chirp. Bright and early in the morning the birds started to sing. Their beautiful song filling the air like a fluffy cloud in the light blue sky. It was eight o’clock on a Saturday and Lisette was getting ready to attend her cousin Courtney’s sweet sixteen. She got up, washed her face and shrugged into her aqua green dress. The dress fit Lisette perfectly around her waist. It was a birthday gift from her aunt and she had been asked to wear it during the party. Even though the party didn’t start until seven o’clock at night, she couldn’t wait to try it on just once.

Lisette ran down the steps to the kitchen. Her parents and older brother had already eaten their breakfast at the table and were cleaning up. 

“Good morning everyone.” Lisette announced happily. 

“Good morning Lisette,” Her mom and dad replied in unison. Her brother Clark just nodded his head as a hello. As they got up, Lisette sat down. Clark exited the kitchen to his room, her mom was getting started on the dishes, and her dad was reading the newspaper. She had a huge grin on her face. She couldn’t wait to go to Courtney’s party. She’s never been to one as a matter of fact. Her friends all just turned fifteen and she was still waiting for her turn in July. 

“So are you excited to go to Courtney’s party?” her mother asked. 

“Definitely,” she replied. “You  know the aqua green dress Aunt Becky got me for my birthday?”
Her mother nodded. 

“Well, I really want to wear it for the first time at her party,” Lisette said. “You know, since it’s the first time I’ll be going to one.”

“Of course you can sweetie,” her mom said. “I’m just worried you’ll spill something on it and stain it. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Lisette promised. She helped her mom with the dishes, and then put them away. She ran up to her room and started reading and drawing, counting the hours till the party. She even fell asleep for two hours!

“Lisette!” her mom called out. “It’s time to go!”

“Coming!” Lisette replied while going down the steps with caution. She really didn’t want anything to happen to her new dress. She had others she liked, but this one had to be her favorite.

It was seven o’clock and the sun was setting. Its colors were fading away slowly, as if it was the last time you would ever see it. Lisette and her family walked outside greeted with a cool breeze hitting their faces. The lights from their house raided with moths, causing their shadows to dance in the dark.

An hour late they arrived. There was light shining through all the large windows in the house. Lisette knew the party had already started. She took a deep breath. They all walked toward the front door and were greeted by a middle aged woman with her hair in a bun. 

“Hello Jane, Andrew, Clark, Lisette,” aunt Becky said looking at all of us. “Come in it’s cold outside. Come in.”

Lisette walked inside and started looking around at all the decorations hung up on the walls. “Whoa,” she said in awe. She stood near her parents and in an instant they disappeared, but she didn’t care. She knew her aunt’s house inside and out. 

“Lisette!” Courtney yelled. Lisette turned around and looked at Courtney across the room with a smile a mile wide. She walked towards Courtney with a swing in her step. This is going to be fun, she thought. 
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Jordan Zapp
Process writing 2- Draft 1
September 29, 2014
Bl 6
Death by Pigeon
            “Can we have some breadsticks?” My little sister asks a man standing outside a restaurant.   He chuckles and nods.  Without hesitation, Anna bolts into the restaurant and then runs back out, her hand full of packaged breadsticks.  She runs toward the square like it’s Christmas. 
            “We have to go!  Hurry!” she yells back at us.  My brother takes off after her. My dad rolls his eyes.  My mom suppresses a laugh.  I just look up.  The buildings that line the narrow streets are brilliant, the bright colors practically shimmering in the July heat.  The black box windows contrasting every building make me wonder what may lie on the other side.  As we cross a small stone bridge, a long, black gondola passes beneath us, complete with a tall man in a red beret.  He sings a beautiful song in Italian and rows lazily down the canal.  Small artisan shops selling colorful glass pieces are stacked like blocks along the cobblestone street, their creations catching and scattering the light. Ah, Venice.
            We had been waiting all day to get to the square.  After touring a million museums and churches (which I enjoyed, while my siblings loudly complained) and stopping for gelato three times (which we all enjoyed), we could not hold in our excitement any longer.   We spilled onto the square and each took in a sharp breath of anticipation.  St. Mark’s Square, or Piazza San Marco, is the buzzing center of Venice, Italy.  Artisan shops, fancy restaurants, gelaterias, and a huge church surround the square.   Vendors set up shop anywhere they please, and yell out to tourists, boasting the best prices.  That is all well and good, but my siblings and I have our eye on one attraction in particular: pigeons. 
            Hundreds of these flying fiends flock the center of the square.    These pigeons are unlike the ordinary birds you might find in New York City.  Around us, other tourists have the right idea.  They hold breadcrumbs in their palms, arms out, and if luck is with them, a few pigeons may land on their arms and feast on the bread.   It is an honor to have a St. Mark’s pigeon land on your arms, or at least it makes for a good story.  Anyway, my siblings and I get right to it, crushing the breadsticks in our hands and holding them out for the pigeons to snack on.    Much to our delight, several birds land on our arms, their small talons digging into the sleeves of our shirts.  They peck away at our palms, snatching up breadcrumbs as fast as lightning. 
            At first, there were two pigeons on either of my arms, then came another, and another, and another, until birds were stacked up to my shoulders.  I laughed nervously, but hey, they were just pigeons, right?  Suddenly, I feel something land on my back, something sharp scratching my skin.  Something else lands squarely on my head, tangling itself in the only nest-like thing in all of Venice: my hair.  I am overcome with them.  I cannot see, and I am convinced they will lift me off the ground and fly away.  These somethings, of course, are pigeons, but that does not stop me.  They have crossed the line from adorable pigeons to evil, I am sure of it.    
            “AAAAAAAAAGH!” I let out a shriek and whip my arms around violently.  All I can see are gray and white wings, in the air, in my eyes and mouth.  In a flurry of feathers and obnoxious squawking, every vicious pigeon takes off, hovering in the air for only a moment, before swooping down onto some other innocent victim.  I take a deep breath, they are all gone, I think.  I am so wrong, so hopelessly and foolishly wrong. 
            I feel an aggressive tug on my scalp.  I yell some profanity and make another helicopter motion with my arms.  The bird will not let go.  It whips around, its left leg wrapped up in a sun-stained mane of brown hair that belongs to me.  Some part of me knows it is stuck, but I am in panic mode, seeing red, and hitting at the poor thing with everything I’ve got.  By now, people are staring, laughing, and taking pictures with their phones.  My life flashes before my eyes.  This is how it ends, I think to myself, death by pigeon. 
            Fortunately for me, that is not how it ends.  My mother contains her laughter long enough to step in and attempt to extricate this stupid pigeon from my hair.  When she is successful, the deadly winged creature flies away, all too eager to find a nice rooftop to sit on for a while. 
            Anna laughs and laughs, her rambunctious shrieking echoing through the square.  “Maybe,” she spits out between breaths, “you’ll learn to brush your hair someday.” I inhale deeply, trying to recover from the aerial attack.  I slowly open my eyes, and catch the glint of something white and glistening on top of her head.  Immediately, an evil grin spreads across my face like a disease.  I point to her hair, smooth, shiny and super straight. 

            “Better a nest than a landing strip for poop,” I smirk.