The year that I was so looking forward to, mutated into a fight for my life and for the life of others around me, and I found the long lost person I had longed for since I was eight years old. My father.
I grew up in the school with her, she was from then on, my mother.
GryphonFledgling wrote:Ooh, very nice.The year that I was so looking forward to, mutated into a fight for my life and for the life of others around me, and I found the long lost person I had longed for since I was eight years old. My father.
I know the journey is the reward, but now we kind of know how this is all going to turn out. Of course, it could turn out that the fight was lost and the long lost father is actually the big baddie, but you've kind of given away the ending here. We know the narrator survives, otherwise she couldn't be telling her story. Whether or not the rest of it turns out all right is to be seen, but we sort of know about it in advance. It takes away the element of surprise a bit for the reader. I don't particularly care for it.
~GryphonFledgling
It had thirteen stories, two floors for classrooms, one floor for a dinning hall, which also served as a ballroom and the professor’s dorm rooms were located around that.
The students that lived in Diethelm could number up to 500. Ten floors of the school were solely for student housing. It had twenty-five rooms per floor, and each room had two students. All male students lived on the first five floors, then there were the three floors above them that divided them from the female half, including the professor rooms. The female students were set up the same way, two girls a room. This made it so that only 250 male students could be admitted and 250 female students.
When it was time for me to turn ten the school offered to give me a full fledged education, why they did without charging Bertha and still paying her for her job, we never knew. But I was admitted and given Diethelm’s room alone without a roommate.
Then came the definitive year of my life, the one all young student’s dream of. The sixth year. As a sixth year student you could go to the late night balls, parties, celebrations until previously closed off to you.
The year that I was so looking forward to was riddled with confusion, anger, resentment, and discovery. More then I had bargained for.
My name is Adala and here is my sixth year story.