The Curse of Olympus I Story by Vihaan, 12, New Jersey

The Curse of Olympus

It was an ordinary day. My sister and I sat down to play some video games. “Kids! Did you finish your chores?” Mom called from the kitchen. “Yes, Mom,” we said in unison. We turned on the TV and the console. We opened our favorite video game, NBL: Legends Edition, where you could build a dream team with former NBL stars or current players. In the game, player cards had different overall ratings, ranging from 60 to 99. Our best player was 99-rated Anthony Tucker. The edition thing worked like this: there was a current edition and a legends edition. Current Edition only had current players, and Legends Edition had both current players and legends from the past. Anyway, we were trying to get a team with all 99 overall players. And right now, we just had one spot to fill, which had a 95 overall. Suddenly, we started hearing a whirring noise coming from the console.

We walked up to the console to see what the sound was when suddenly, we got sucked into it! A few seconds later, I woke up on a basketball court. I saw the team names on their jerseys: Albuquerque Howlerz and Brooklyn Dragons. It took me about five seconds to realize we were inside our video game because the Brooklyn NBL team was called the Wolves, and Albuquerque didn’t have an NBL team. About a second later, Jen (my sister) woke up. I quickly explained to her what was going on. “That’s so cool!” she exclaimed. Before I could begin listing all the reasons this wasn’t “cool,” the ref blew the whistle to stop play, and a security guard grabbed us, took us off the court, and the game continued. “Where are your parents?” asked the guard. “Our parents live in Boston, not here in Brooklyn.”

The guard looked annoyed now. “How is it possible that your parents live in Boston and your kids are here in Brooklyn?” Suddenly, a couple came from the doorway to the court-side seats. “Kids! What on earth were you doing on the court?” said a lady. The guard was furious. “You kids try tricking me by saying your parents are 200 miles away in Boston, when they were just a couple feet away from where we were on the court!” It was clear that the guard was mad, so we just went with the couple. We got into a white SUV, and we headed out of the parking lot. While the man was driving, the woman leaned over and whispered, “We know how you got here and how to get you back to the real world. I’ll tell you the whole story when we get to our bunker.” Bunker? They had a bunker? This seemed serious if we needed to talk about it in a bunker.

We reached a building that just looked like an ordinary house. The man must have seen the confused look on my face because he said, “Follow us; we’ll show you where the bunker is.” We went inside the house. I didn’t see any stairs or elevators to the basement. But then, the man went up to a wall and did a secret knock, and, believe it or not, a secret passageway opened, revealing a staircase! We got on the stairs, and the passageway closed. We walked down an extremely long spiral staircase until we reached what looked just like an ordinary basement. Then, we headed down an elevator, and finally, the woman said, “We’re here!” Jen and I were so happy, we just collapsed on the floor. After we got up, the man began to explain what was going on. “The video game you guys were playing earlier is cursed, okay? Don’t panic, just let me explain.”

“When creating the game, the developers programmed a mystery element or curse into the game, where, if you play the game for 365 days, a year, you get swallowed into the game. Last Monday was your 365th day playing the game, so you got sucked in.” “Wait a second,” I said. “It’s been a week since we got swallowed into the game.” “Yes,” said the man. “In this alternate reality, time goes by faster than anywhere else. One day on Earth is equal to one week here. Oh shoot. We completely forgot!” “What did you guys forget?” I asked. Jen was asleep on one of the beds in the bunker. “The only way to go back to the real world is by playing the game in the alternate universe one week in Earth time,” exclaimed the man. “Okay, let’s go play it!” I said. “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple.

We had six Earth days to find a console and a disc for the video game. A three-day flight would take us there, followed by at least a week to find what we needed. “Whoa, why so long?” I asked. “You’ll see,” the man replied enigmatically.

We flew to “Video Game Island.” He said, “We just need to find NBL Avenue for the game disc. Unfortunately, this massive island requires a three-day bus ride.” Now I understood why finding everything would take a week of Earth time.

At the crowded bus stop, a regular-looking bus arrived. Inside, it resembled a luxurious train compartment. Jen and I settled in, excited yet restless.

On the second day, the man excused himself for the restroom. Seconds later, strange things began. Like the first time he left, a sudden thunderstorm hit, forcing us to wait another day. Though the man claimed thunderstorms never occurred here, and this was his first trip, a connection seemed to exist. Seeking answers, I confided in Jen, who shared my suspicions. We agreed to spy on them that night.

When bedtime arrived, the couple tucked us in (or so they thought). While feigning sleep, I barely heard the man whisper, “Come on, Artemis, we need to talk.” I nudged Jen awake, reminding her of our plan. We followed the couple to the hallway, hiding behind our room’s wall. “Listen, Artemis,” the man said, “I can’t maintain this form much longer. We must tell the kids and return them to Olympus.”

Artemis? From the myths? A book on the man’s nightstand confirmed it. She was Apollo’s sister! Did this mean the man was…? We had learned enough. Sleepless, we pondered the shocking revelation.

The next day, we acted normal while packing and checking out. Instead of waiting for the bus, the man called a taxi, instructing the driver to go to the airport. Jen and I knew our destination: Mount Olympus. Feigning confusion, we played along. “Kids,” the man began, “we have something to tell you…”

“We know,” I interrupted. “You’re Apollo and Artemis, and for some reason, we have to go to Mount Olympus.” Startled, Artemis asked, “How do you know?” Guilt flooded me. “We heard your conversation last night.” Realizing my blunder (the taxi driver!), I braced myself. But Artemis calmly replied, “No, the driver can’t hear us; we have a spell. You’re confused, I know. This isn’t in the myths. We’re…evolving.”

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