The Tale of a Hunter

A short story about Jim's past and journey to Camp Half-Blood.

July 10, 2003
Jim - Age 8

"Jimmy!" I heard my dad shout from outside. "Time for our annual camping trip!"

I loved our camping trips. It was the only time I actually felt close to my dad. He had already packed the bags and was waiting for me in the car, where we'd be driving to a large acre of woods a few miles away from our house.

"Coming, dad!" I shouted a reply. I rummaged through my drawers until I found what I was looking for; a turtle shirt my dad had gotten for me a few weeks ago. I sprinted through the house to the front door, and slammed it. I climbed into the car and waited for my dad to start driving.