First chapter of Secrets of the Sirens

I'm writing a book, and I would like to give you guys some sneak peeks.

Chapter 1

I was standing by the spring. That is when things went wrong—standing by the place where I felt most comfortable. Let me explain. I was standing by the salty spring in Athens, my home. People tell me that Poseidon and Athena fought over patronship of Athens, and Poseidon tried to win the Athenians over by giving them salt water. Poseidon is the god of the sea, and Athena is the goddess of wisdom and war. Athena gave us olive trees, a much better gift. But for some reason, I went there often and just stared over the lake, like I was looking for something to appear. And today, something did appear. Because the lake was on a hilltop, you could see the ocean. And on that ocean was a Trojan ship. “THEY’RE COMING!” I shouted. The Trojans had been attacking us for the past few years, so we always had our guard up. Sometimes, young boys would yell, ‘They’re coming,’ and everyone would run to their homes. Because it was so serious, we couldn’t ignore them. So everyone that couldn’t fight ran to their homes. I stayed out and joined the line of fighters. The Trojans poured in, as usual, so we had to accept they would get some of our goods, again, as usual. But this time, instead of stealing the crops from farms, they started stealing everyone that could work. “DESDEMONA!” I turned and found my sister being dragged away. I dashed over to her and tried my best to get her out of the Trojan's grasp, but he was too strong. This man had been training for a long time with real trainers- while I taught myself at home.
“Stand back, girl!”
“This isn’t your place!”
“Let the men fight, Misery!” Misery. My name is Misery. Desdemona, my name, was given to me by my biological parents, whoever they may be. My parents talk about changing it every day. They hate calling me misery—my stepparents, I mean. I looked over to the man who said that. “Fine then! Let's see how you do now!” I shouted.

Lo and behold, Athens started losing. Not that we were winning in the first place, but we definitely did worse. Few people could actually fight in Athens, so if one goes away, the battle becomes hopeless. But I left anyway. I had other things to worry about. I ran over to my parents; protecting them was my priority now. My sister had been taken, but I would not be an orphan again. Never again. People were being taken left and right, and all of them were able to work. I assumed the Trojans needed more workers, so they went to Athens to steal people away from their homes. To force them to work so they could win the war. I could not let that happen. I had to stay strong. My life depended on it. That was until I was knocked out. Then, my life depended on the gods being in my favor.

“Who’s she?” Asked a woman from across the street. Her voice wasn’t angry or full of disgust like the others. When people asked that question, it was like an insult. But his was different. It was pitiful. The words still stung. “I don’t know, dear. I see her every day, but I’ve never seen her parents.” A man was standing next to the woman. I assumed they were married. “Let’s go over and see if she’s lost. Maybe we can help her.”
“Alright, dear.” They walked over. I hurried away. The woman walked peacefully toward me and said, “What’s your name? Do you know where your parents are?” Little six-year-old me knew they would be able to catch up with me with a brisk walk, so I said, “I don’t have parents anymore. They left me here. They called me Desdemona.”
“Do you know what ‘Desdemona’ means?” Asked the man. He obviously thought I knew nothing. So I must’ve surprised them when I said,
“Yes. It means Misery. That’s what my parents said.”
“I think we should take her home. At least for now. She can’t stay out here alone.” Said the woman. I could see what color her hair was now, raven black. Her beautiful face was scrunched up with worry. The man’s was chocolate brown. He looked exhausted.
“I don’t need help. I’ve been here for 4 years.” The girl I was staring at, a little 6-year-old girl, didn’t know that most girls lived in comfortable houses. She didn’t think about how most girls wore dresses, and their ribs didn’t show through their clothes. She also didn’t know that most girls didn’t know how to fight, and 6-year-olds thought of Pegasus and rainbows. This concerned the poor people, and when the woman opened her mouth to speak, a girl's voice came. “WAKE UP!” It said so, so I did.

I looked around me. There were girls 11-6 years old hovering over me, and all of them came over to be taught by my mother. My mom taught us how to read, so they would do their lessons at home, and then they would sneak over to my house to get a reading lesson. My mom and dad are all in on letting young women read because it gives our creative minds something to think about other than learning things our brothers learn. “Dezzie, I’m scared.” This was one of the two six-year-olds. Her name was Sophia, and she was the sweetest, strongest girl I knew. She reminded me of myself in so many ways and even looked a lot like me. Her wavy, dark brown hair and slightly tanned skin resembled mine almost to a pinpoint. She had dark brown eyes, unlike my ocean blue ones, and freckles like mine. She had a light brown dress and sandals to match, as did everyone else who wasn’t rich. So everybody but the king. “Only fools wouldn’t be scared right now, and you aren’t a fool,” said Penelope. She was 11 years old and possibly the bravest of us all. If she said that, that meant even she was scared. If the Trojans hadn’t scared me before, the fact she was afraid would’ve. I looked around and saw a stone room with beds barely hovering above the floor. There was a small window too high to reach. It was like the Trojans were mocking us, saying, “Here, here’s a window, you’ll surely be able to escape now!” I knew everybody there. Penelope, age 11 ¼; Chloé, age 10 ¾; Alexandra, age 10; Zoe, age 9 ½; Margaret, age 7 ¼; Phoebe, age 6 ½; and Sophia, age 6 ¼.

All of the girls showed signs of tiredness and fear on their faces. “When did you all last sleep?” I asked.
“We haven’t slept since we got here,” said Chloé, “so 2 days?”
“At least. We don’t know how long we were actually knocked out before we started counting days.” Said Penelope.
“You all were knocked out for a week before you woke up. Then add 2 to that, and you get, you get… Ummmm.”
“Nine days. You get nine days.” I said, pinching my nose. This guy had been trained to fight but had barely studied anything else. This was either a good thing or a horrible thing. “YO! THEO! Get those prisoners to work!” Shouted someone from the back.
“YES, COMMANDER ALEXANDER, SIR!”
“Alright, Commander Alexander! Right away, sir!” Margaret snickered.
“COME GIRLS! FOLLOW ME!” Yelled Theo.
“So, ummm. My mom taught me not to follow random strangers to do manual labor for them, so I think I’ll stay here,” I said.
“Yeah, I agree,” said Maya.
“What’s the worst that can happen to us if we stay?” Said Penelope.
“Oh, come on, girls. There are a lot of things that we can do to you.” Said Theo with a devious smile that I could only picture in books. He slowly began to draw his sword, so we all got up and followed him out.

Manual labor is odd. You never realize how bad it was until you do it. We went outside the walls and were told to dig a moat with the others. So, we grabbed some shovels and began to dig. “This is humiliating,” Said Chloé.
“I know, but we have to do it, don’t we Desdemona?” Said Sophia.
“Unless we want to talk to that sword, yes. But don’t worry. I think I have a plan.” I muttered this. I wanted them to hear, but nobody else. I didn’t want to give them false hope. We continued our work, sweating profusely when a Trojan came out. “All prisoners are relieved for the day. We will go to their rooms later, explain what’s happening, and question everyone. Thank you,” he said and then walked back inside the walls.
“YOU HEARD THE MAN! INSIDE! INSIDE!” So we all filed inside and were led to our rooms.

“What do you think is going on?” Asked Zoe.
“I don’t know, Zoe. But we’ll find out soon,” said Alexandra.
“How soon?” She asked.
“That’s the thing about the word ‘soon. ’ It doesn’t have a set time. Soon could be years, or it could be a few minutes,” said Penelope.
“I hope that it’s only a few minutes. The suspense is killing me!” Said Sophia.
“Is it the suspense, or is it work?” I asked.
“Both,” she said, grinning.
“How can you smile at a time like this?” Asked Zoe. “We were stolen from our homes, separated from our families, and forced to do labor!” I held back tears. Zoe was 9 ½ years old! Hearing that from her was the worst thing that happened to me that day, and that was saying something. “You just have to focus on the good things. Like, at least I’m with friends instead of with random strangers,” Sophia said. I loved Sophia. Not in a weird, cheesy way like, oh-if-your-child-is-missing-then-you-might-want-to-check-with-Desdemona-because-she-might’ve-kidnapped-her, but like mutual respect. She could always look at the good side, and I hoped it wasn’t just because she was 6. I wasn’t like that when I was 6, so maybe it wasn’t. “Hello, girls. I suppose you all want to know what’s going on?” Said a man, walking into our room.
“Yeah. The man in the courtyard said something about questioning?”
“Yes. Do you girls know why all the water in the king's room is on the ceiling?