Nemesis's Blog

  
   Hari terpanas sejauh ini pada musim panas telah mulai berakhir dan keheningan yang membuat mengantuk melanda rumah-rumah besar berbentuk bujursangkar di Privet Drive. Mobil-mobil yang biasanya mengkilat diliputi debu di jalan-jalan masuk dan halaman-halaman yang dulunya hijau jamrud terbentang kering dan menguning -- karena penggunaan pipa air telah dilarang akibat kekeringan. Dirampas dari kebiasaan mencuci mobil dan memotong rumput halaman mereka, para penghuni Privet Drive telah mengundurkan diri ke dalam lindungan rumah-rumah mereka yang teduh, dengan jendela-jendela dibuka lebar-lebar untuk memancing masuknya angin sepoi-sepoi yang memang tidak ada. Satu-satunya orang yang berada di luar rumah adalah seorang remaja lelaki yang sedang berbaring telentang pada bedeng bunga di luar nomor empat.  

   Dia adalah seorang anak laki-laki kurus, berambut hitam, dan berkacamata yang memiliki tampilan wajah kurus, agak kurang sehat seperti seseorang yang telah tumbuh begitu banyak dalam waktu singkat. Celana jinsnya robek dan kotor, baju kaosnya kedodoran dan sudah pudar, dan sol sepatu olahraganya terkelupas dari bagian atas sepatu. Penampilan Harry Potter tidak membuatnya disenangi para tetangga, yang merupakan jenis orang-orang yang menganggap ketidakrapian seharusnya dapat dihukum dengan undang-undang, tetapi karena dia telah menyembunyikan dirinya di belakang sebuah semak hydrangea besar malam ini, dia cukup kasat mata bagi orang-orang yang lewat. Kenyataannya, satu-satunya cara dia dapat terlihat adalah bila Paman Vernon atau Bibi Petunianya menjulurkan kepala-kepala mereka keluar dari jendela ruang tamu dan melihat langsung ke bedeng bunga di bawahnya.  

   Secara keseluruhan, Harry berpikir dia seharusnya diberi selamat atas idenya bersembunyi di sini. Mungkin dia tidak begitu nyaman berbaring di atas tanah yang panas dan keras tetapi, di sisi lain, tidak ada orang yang melotot kepadanya, menggertakkan gigi-gigi mereka demikian kerasnya sehingga dia tidak dapat mendengarkan warta berita, atau menanyakan pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang tidak menyenangkan kepadanya, seperti yang telah terjadi setiap kali dia mencoba duduk di ruang tamu untuk menonotn televisi dengan paman dan bibinya.

   Hampir seperti pikiran ini melayang melalui jendela yang terbuka, Vernon Dursley, paman Harry, tiba-tiba berkata.

   'Senang melihat bocah itu sudah berhenti mengganggu. Ngomong-ngomong, di mana dia?'

   'Tidak tahu,' kata Bibi Petunia, tidak khawatir. 'Tidak di dalam rumah.'

   Paman Vernon menggerutu.

   'Menonton warta berita ...' dia berkata dengan pedas. 'Aku ingin tahu apa maksud dia yang sebenarnya. Seperti anak normal peduli saja apa yang ada di warta berita -- Dudley sama sekali tidak tahu apa yang sedang terjadi; aku ragu dia tahu siap yang menjadi Perdana Menteri! Lagipula, bukannya akan ada apapun mengenai kelompokknya di berita kita --'

Read Full here

   I GO CRUISING WITH 

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

Up until then, I was having a great afternoon. Technically I wasn't suppose to be driving because I wouldn't be sixteen for another week, but my mom and my stepdad,Paul, took my friend Rachel and me to this private stretch of beach on the South Shore, and Paul let us borrow his Prius for a short spin.
Now, I know you're thinking, Wow, that was really irresponsible of him,blah,blah,blah, but Paul knows me pretty well. He's seen me slice up demons  and leap out of exploding school buildings, so he probably figured taking a car a few hundred yards wasn't exactly the most dangerous thing I'd ever done. Anyway, Rachael and I were driving along. It was hot August day. Rachel's red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a white blouse over her swimsuit. I'd never seen before, and she looked like a million golden drachmas.
“Oh, pull up right there!” she told me
We parked on a ridge overlooking the Atlantic. The sea is always one of my favorite places, but today it was especially nice- glittery green smooth as glass, as though my dad was keeping it calm just for us.
My dad,by the way, is Poseidon. He can do stuff like that.“So.” Rachel smiled at me. “ About that invitation.”
“Oh . . . right.” I tried to sound excited. I mean, she'd asked me to her family's vacation house on St. Thomas for three days. I didn't get a lot of offers like that. My family's idea of a fancy vacation was a weekend in a rundown cabin on Long Island with some movie rental and a couple of frozen pizzas, and here Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.
Besides, I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life. The idea of taking a break even for a few days was really tempting.
Still, something big was suppose to go down any day now. I was “on call” for a mission. Even worse, next week was my birthday. There was this prophecy that said when I turned sixteen, bad things would happen. 

“Percy,” she said, “I know the timing is bad. But it's always bad for you, right?”
She had a point.

read full here

 
The Friday before winter break, my mom packed me an overnight bag and a few deadly weapons and took me to a new boarding school. We picked up my friends Annabeth and Thalia on the way. It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much. Except for my mom. She talks  more when she's nervous. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd  told Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about me.

Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. "Oh, yeah. This'll be fun."
Westover Hall looked like an evil knight's castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other.
"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" my mother asked.
"No, thanks, Mom," I said. "I don't know how long it will take. We'll be okay."
"But how will you get back? I'm worried, Percy."
I hoped I wasn't blushing. It was bad enough I had to depend on my mom to drive me to my battles.
"It's okay, Ms. Jackson." Annabeth smiled reassuringly. Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. "We'll keep him out of trouble."
My mom seemed to relax a little. She thinks Annabeth is the most levelheaded demigod ever to hit eighth grade. She's sure Annabeth often keeps me from getting killed. She's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
"All right, dears," my mom said. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, Ms. Jackson," Thalia said. "Thanks for the ride."
"Extra sweaters? You have my cell phone number?"
"Mom—"
"Your ambrosia and nectar, Percy? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp?"
"Mom, seriously! We'll be fine. Come on, guys." She looked a little hurt, and I was sorry about that, but I was ready to be out of that car. If my mom told one more story about how cute I looked in the bathtub when I was three years old, I was going to burrow into the snow and freeze myself to death. Annabeth and Thalia followed me outside. The wind blew straight through my coat like ice daggers.
Once my mother's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Percy." 

"She's pretty okay," I admitted. "What about you? You ever get  in touch with your mom?"
As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't. Thalia was great at giving evil looks, what with the punk clothes she always wears—the ripped-up army jacket, black leather pants and chain jewelry, the black eyeliner and those intense blue eyes. But the look she gave me now was a perfect evil "ten."
"If that was any of your business, Percy—"
"We'd better get inside," Annabeth interrupted. "Grover will be waiting."

Read full Here

 

My nightmare started like this.

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their win-dows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.

Florida, I thought. Though I wasn't sure how I knew that. I'd never been to Florida. Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life.

Yeah, I said hooves.

Grover is a satyr. From the waist up, he looks like a typical gangly teenager with a peach-fuzz goatee and a bad case of acne. He walks with a strange limp, but unless you happen to catch him without his pants on (which I don't recommend), you'd never know there was anything un-human about him. Baggy jeans and fake feet hide the fact that he's got furry hindquarters and hooves.

Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. He'd gone on this adventure with me and a girl named Annabeth to save the world, but I hadn't seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest—a quest no satyr had ever returned from.  

Anyway, in my dream, Grover was hauling goat tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he needs to move fast. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.

Grover was terrified of something behind him. He must've just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He'd escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from ... 

something.

A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks.

Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. He muttered to himself, Have to get away. Have to warn them!

I couldn't see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered. He'd run into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. No time to back up. The nearest door had been blown open by the storm. The sign above the darkened display window read: ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE.

Grover dashed inside. He dove behind a rack of wed-ding dresses.

The monster's shadow passed in front of the shop. I could smell the thing—a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat and that weird sour body odor only monsters have, like a skunk that's been living off Mexican food.

Grover trembled behind the wedding dresses. The monster's shadow passed on.

Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.

Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice
bellowed: "MIIIIINE!"

Read Full Here

I ACCIDENTALLY VAPORIZE 
MY PRE-ALGEBRA TEACHER

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.
If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most  of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.
If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.
But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
My name is Percy Jackson.
I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York. 

Am I a troubled kid?
Yeah. You could say that.
I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan— twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.
I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.
But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.
Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which  always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and  let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.
I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.
Boy, was I wrong.
See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.
This trip, I was determined to be good.
All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back  of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich. 

 

Read full here

BAB 1
MINAS TIRITH

     Pippin  mengintip  keluar  dari  balik  jubah  Gandalf.  Hatinya  bertanya-tanya,  ini mimpi  atau  bukan. la  serasa masih  berada  dalam mimpi  yang meluncur  cepat, yang  telah  menyelubunginya  begitu  lama  sejak  perjalanan  berkuda  ini  dimulai. Dunia  sekitar  yang  diselimuti  kegelapan  bagai  mendesir  lewat,  angin  menderu keras  di  telinganya.  la  tak  bisa  melihat  apa  pun  kecuali  bintang-bintang  yang bergulir.  Di  sebelah  kanannya  bayangan-bayangan  besar  menutupi  langit,  dan pegunungan Selatan berderap melewatinya. 

     Sambil terkantuk-kantuk dicobanya merangkai kembali berbagai peristiwa dalam perjalanan mereka, tapi ingatannya masih berkabut. Mula-mula mereka berkuda dengan kecepatan sangat tinggi, tanpa berhenti, lalu saat  fajar  ia melihat  secercah  sinar  keemasan  redup.  Mereka  telah  tiba  di  kota sunyi dan rumah besar kosong di atas bukit. Baru saja mereka sampai di sana, bayangan  bersayap  itu  terbang  kembali  melewati  mereka;  orang-orang  lemas ketakutan. Tapi Gandalf menenangkannya dengan kata-kata lembut, dan Ia pun tertidur  di  pojok,  letih  tapi  tak  bisa  tidur  nyaman;  samar-samar  ia  ingat  banyak orang datang dan pergi, ada suara orang-orang berbicara, dan Gandalf memberi perintah. 

    Lalu melaju naik kuda lagi, melaju dalam kegelapan malam. Sekarang malam  kedua,  eh  bukan,  malam  ketiga  sejak  ia  memandang  ke  dalam  Batu Penglihatan itu. la terbangun seketika, saat teringat kejadian mengerikan itu, dan menggigil, sementara deru angin dipenuhi suara-suara yang mengusik. Seberkas cahaya merebak di langit, kobaran api kuning di balik tembok-tembok gelap.  Pippin  gemetar  ketakutan,  sejenak  ia  sangat  cemas,  bertanya-tanya  ke negeri mengerikan mana Gandalf membawanya. la menggosok-gosok mata, lalu melihat  bulan  sedang  muncul  di  atas  bayang-bayang  di  timur,  dan  kini  hampir purnama. Jadi, malam belum begitu larut dan perjalanan masih panjang. 

     Pippin beringsut dan berkata. “Di mana kita, Gandalf?” tanyanya. “Di wilayah Gondor,” jawab penyihir itu. “Kita sedang melewati daerah Anorien.” Beberapa  saat  sunyi.  Lalu,  “Apa  itu?”  teriak  Pippin  tiba-tiba,  sambil mencengkeram jubah Gandalf. “Lihat! Api, api merah! Apakah ada naga di negeri ini? Lihat, ada lagi!” Sebagai  jawaban,  Gandalf  berseru  keras-keras  pada  kudanya.  “Terus, Shadowfax!  Kita  harus cepat. Waktu kita singkat.  Lihat!  Api mercusuar  Gondor sudah  dinyalakan  untuk  meminta  bantuan.  Perang  sudah  berkobar.  Lihat,  ada api  di  atas  Amon  diri,  dan  di  atas  Eilenach;  dan  yang  lainnya  ke  arah  barat: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, dan Halifirien di perbatasan-perbatasan Rohan.” 

     Tapi Shadowfax malah memperlambat derapnya menjadi langkah berjalan biasa, lalu  mengangkat  kepalanya  dan  meringkik.  Dari  dalam  kegelapan  datang jawaban:  ringkikan  kuda-kuda  lain;  tak  lama  kemudian  terdengar  derap  kaki kuda; tiga penunggang menyusul melewati mereka, bagai hantu-hantu melayang di  bawah  sinar  bulan,  lenyap  ke  arah  Barat.  Shadowfax  kembali  tenang  dan melompat berlari, terselubung malam, bagai angin yang menderu. 

Baca selanjutnya di Sini

BAB 1
KEMATIAN BOROMIR

Aragorn bergegas mendaki bukit. Sesekali ia membungkuk ke tanah. Hobbit bisa berjalan ringan, jejak kaki mereka tak mudah dibaca, meski oleh Penjaga Hutan sekalipun,  tapi  tidak  jauh  dari  puncak,  sebuah  mata  air  melintasi  jalan,  dan  di tanah yang basah Aragorn melihat apa yang dicarinya. 

"Aku sudah benar membaca tanda-tandanya," kata Aragorn pada dirinya sendiri.
"Frodo lari ke puncak bukit. Apa yang dilihatnya di sana? Tapi dia kembali lewat jalan yang sama, dan menuruni bukit lagi."
Aragorn  ragu.  Ia  ingin  pergi  ke  takhta  tinggi itu,  berharap melihat sesuatu  yang bisa  menuntunnya  dalam  kebingungannya;  tapi  waktu  sudah  mendesak. Mendadak  ia  melompat  maju  dan  berlari  ke  puncak,  melintasi  ubin-ubin  besar dan menaiki tangga. Lalu, sambil duduk di takhta, ia memandang sekelilingnya. Tapi  matahari  seolah  meredup,  dunia  tampak  remang-remang  dan  jauh.  Ia mengalihkan  pandang  dari  Utara,  lalu  memandang  ke  Utara  lagi,  dan  tidak melihat  apa  pun  selain  perbukitan  di  kejauhan.  Pada  jarak  sejauh  itu  ia  bisa melihat  lagi  seekor  burung  besar seperti elang  tinggi  di  angkasa,  terbang  turun dengan lambat, melingkar-lingkar ke bumi. Saat  ia  memandang,  pendengarannya  yang  tajam  menangkap  bunyi-bunyi  di hutan  di  bawah,  di sisi barat  Sungai.  ia  berdiri kaku.  Ada suara-suara  teriakan, dan di antaranya, dengan ngeri ia mengenali suara-suara Orc. Lalu sekonyong-konyong terdengar bunyi berat terompet, lenguhannya membelah perbukitan dan bergema di lembah, naik dengan teriakan keras melebihi gemuruh air terjun.
 

"Terompet  Boromir!"  teriak  Aragorn.  "Dia  perlu  bantuan!"  Aragorn  melompat menuruni tangga dan berlari menuruni jalan. "Aduh! Hari ini nasibku benar-benar buruk, semua yang kulakukan kacau. Di mana Sam?" 

Sementara  ia  berlari,  teriakan-teriakan  itu  terdengar  makin  keras,  tapi  bunyi terompet  semakin  lemah  dan  terdengar  putus  asa.  Teriakan-teriakan  Orc terdengar  garang  dan  nyaring,  dan  tiba-tiba  tiupan  terompet  berhenti.  Aragorn lari menuruni lereng terakhir, tapi sebelum ia mencapai kaki bukit, bunyi-bunyi itu sudah  hilang;  ketika  ia  belok  ke  kiri  dan  berlari  ke  arah  bunyi-bunyi  itu,  suara mereka  makin  menjauh  dan  akhirnya  tak  terdengar  lagi.  Sambil  menghunus pedangnya  yang  bersinar  dan  berteriak  Elendil!  Elendil!  ia  menerobos pepohonan.

Baca selanjutnya di Sini