An open letter to Percabeth

Dear Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase,

First off, let me congratulate you two on being some of the most well-rounded, down-to-earth, and realistic-feeling characters written. I've felt like I could relate to you two since page one. Sure, I'm not a demigod, and I haven't battled monsters, but if we took that aspect out of your lives you would just be two regular kids- and that's awesome.
Secondly, y'all are beautiful. I admit, I ship you two- maybe a bit more than I should, but you fit together so well. However I completely respect your friendship before a romantic relationship. At the age you two met romance was out of the question, and honestly, gross. But I love the fact that you put friendship first, at all costs. Despite your parents' previous disagreements you formed a friendship that is beautiful and one I personally envy.
The way you both care for each other so much just fills my little heart with glee. I can feel Percy's pain when Annabeth is hurt, and I know the struggle of Annabeth's jealousy when Rachel is around.
In conclusion, you two are a beautiful couple and I hope that you are always happy in your fictional realm. Keep fighting Monsters.
Love, Muzzy

A weird kind of revenge

Cold, blue lips slowly sinking down into the water. He watched her go in horror, knowing that any attempt to rescue her would be too late. Her soul was no longer in her body, yet it felt like his own heart was. How cruel had he been, to force her to go to such extremes and take her own life in the icy river? Her hair floated around her as the gentle current moved her away. Soon her lifeless form would reach the open water and dip down to the very bottom where perhaps it would stay for centuries. He knew he should stop it, drag her out so that her family could give her a proper burial and say goodbye, but he was too selfish. His eyes welled with tears, his heart felt punctured with glass, and he fell to his knees in anguish knowing that it was all his fault that she was now dead. Never again would he hold her close, feel her gentle touch, hear her words like hellfire, whipping against his skin when she was angry. Everything that he had loved and hated had been put to rest as her body turned cold. Whether her death was a sweet escape or perhaps the most painful thing she had ever endured, no one would know.


I wrote this a few nights ago when I was upset. It's slightly inspired by Ophelia's death in Hamlet.