HEY GUYS! So here's what I wrote for creative writing class in camp. The thing is, your favorite character (mine was Leo, so yeah) is in a box. He/she doesn't know how he/she got there, and why. Take it on from then.

So our counselor (for the class, she's a high-school student,) was giving people individual advice on their story. She crouched down beside me and said "I have an idea. How about you make all the seven characters (the major seven, you know, of the prophecy,) and put them all in a box with their fear. For example, Percy with the sky (but I didn't do that), or Annabeth with the spiders."

And I was like: "Okay, pretty cool, pretty cool." (well not really but the idea was)

So yeah. this is it.

It's pretty long though and I'm not yet done with Frank, Annabeth, Jason, and Piper.

So I'll do it by chapter.

Leo smelled like fish.

That was the first thing that struck him when he woke up. The smell. His skin and damp clothes reeked of sushi gone bad. He wrinkled his nose involuntarily. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted. It was dark, aside from a few tiny patches of light leaking through little holes.

He felt around his surroundings, his hands flat on the walls. It was small, a shape of a square. It gave him just enough space to hunch over a bit. His curls brushed the ceiling. The walls underneath his calloused fingers were grainy. A wooden crate. He had to be careful with his fire.

He reached for his tool belt for a tic-tac. If not his skin, at least his breath would smell good.

When he found that his belt was gone, he panicked. He glanced around quickly, just to make sure that he hadn't left it around somewhere. "Okay," he murmured to himself. "Focus,"

His head throbbed. He lightly touched it and a jolt of pain shot through his forehead. The last thing he remembered was Percy yelling at him, holding his sword and eyes wide. Percy's lips had formed a word, but he did not hear the shout. "Move," Percy was telling him, but he didn't do what he said. Annabeth had pushed her boyfriend aside to dodge something. A large boom echoed through the Argo II. Everything went dark after that.

Leo groaned. Not only his head hurt, but his whole body, too. His limbs ached and his throat felt like it was rubbed with sandpaper. He was tired, yes, but he had to do something. The others might be in trouble. He examined the box again. Desperately, he summoned fire. It danced on his finger, about the size of a dime.

It licked his flesh, but it didn't affect Leo. If anything, it tickled him.

With a defeated sigh, he bent down and peered through one of the holes. He cautiously kept his finger up.

He blinked, confused. What he saw was painfully familiar.

Leo was inside a cramped house. The windows were smoggy and stained a dark green color. Rays of sunlight squeezed through some clear spots on the glass. The wooden walls were dusty and unkept, worn by age. Tables lined up across the room, tinged with speckles of machine grease. There were tools and crumpled blueprints scattered messily on them and on the floor. On one window sill, there was a small rag hanging out. It had splatters of oil on it.

And on one desk, there was a crude drawing of a ship lit with flames.

Leo was in a tool shed. His mother's.

His hands shook. He clasped them together to stop them from doing so. It's just one of Gaea's many tricks again. He had to concentrate. He had to figure out a way to get out of here.

He let out a shaky wheeze, knowing what he must do. Relive the past.

The memory appeared on his mind as clear as ever. It was imprinted on his brain. Flames in front of him and he was screaming. His mother was still in there.

He shook his head. Fire appeared on his palm, bright and dangerous. He could not think of his evil babysitter right now. Slowly, he let his hand touch the box tentatively, waiting for it to ignite.

When it didn't happen, his eyebrows knitted together. This kind of problem never occurred before. He pushed his hand forward again and again.

"Uh, 'flame on'?" he muttered frantically. He tried it again. Nope. He was trapped.

He let his hands skim all over the box. He examined every inch of it, lighting up the darkness with a small flame.

Something pointy pricked his thumb. He inhaled sharply and sucked on the wound. The taste of blood made him wince. It was bitter and coppery.

He looked up to see a screw in the corner. It was what had caused the scratch on his skin. Leo's fingers circled it. Hazel was the expert on metals, but he was pretty sure that this was silver, not iron like regular screws.

Leo frowned. Maybe…but Gaea wasn't that stupid.

But most of her followers were.

He held the fire underneath the screw. He willed it to be hotter. To his triumph, the metal seemed to soften.

He glanced at the other corners at the box. Just like he expected, three other screws were winded tightly in the wood. He smiled mischievously. He didn't notice the bulge in his pocket.

Yep. Next is Hazel.

GUYS CAN YOU PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE

GIVE ME FEARS OF FRANK, PIPER, AND JASON?

NOTHING WEIRD OR STUPID

JUST PLEASE I NEED THEM

Because I still need to submit this to my counselor!

Thanks!

~Sandie