~I dont take credit in my cover page its not mine and its only temporary~
Hey Guys, this is my first story on this account so I’d accept any type of criticism , grammar mistakes and what not.
tell me how you think ;)
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Okay, it’s a new country, a new school, a new start. It’s going to be okay. The past is the past and no one can dig it up. Your name is Isaac Blaimeridge and your just a normal guy like any other student at this school, everything is going to be okay. Just breathe.
“Sir? We’ve reached your destination, St Marcus Academy,” the taxi driver stated, distracting me from my thoughts. I gave him an icy glare.
“That’ll be 15 pounds,” he said hesitatingly, surprised at my sudden cool regard towards him. I handed him the money, grabbed my luggage and got out of the taxi, only to be welcomed by the school’s massive church like buildings surrounded by acres of forest. I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought as I walked through St.. Marcus Academy’s foreboding gates.
Man, was this place huge. It looks like a Christian convent full of military soldiers, only the soldiers were the students. They looked like brainwashed drones waiting for their next task. Would I end up looking like that? I walked up to the administrator’s office which was easy to spot due to the ‘Administration Office’ sign above it, and let myself in. The twink of the doorbell sent curious faces to look up. The lady at the front desk looked old, that kind that made them look like a shriveled prune. She looked at me curiously through her thick purple glasses.
“May, I help you dear?” she asked politely.
“Oh, umm, I’m Isaac Blaimeridge; I’m new here” I replied.
“Oh, yes! Mr. Blaimeridge,” she grinned. “Just give me a second and I’ll get the chaplain to be right with you.” She picked up her phone and started to dial a number.
Are people here that lazy? Why can’t they walk and tell the chaplain? Lazy bums.
“Oh, Mister Blaimeridge!” she exclaimed, disrupting my thoughts, I glared. In case it’s not obvious, I hate being interrupted. The lady was surprised but she continued in her professional manner. “Come through here, the chaplain is waiting for you at his office.” She beckoned at me through the hall and I followed her, ending up in a vintage room with high bookshelves, each covered in different books. In the corner sitting on a brown leather chair was an elderly man, formally dressed and waiting for me.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Collins in case you haven’t guessed,” the elderly man said as he gestured out his hand in greeting with a smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes.
“Err, Isaac-Isaac Blaimeridge,” I stammered, shuffling my hands nervously. His hand was still out, so I took it and gave it firm shake. Something about the shake glimmered in his eyes, making him smile wider. He looks like an unfortunate naked mole rat in a series of wrinkles trying to have an orgasm. I snorted at my own description of the man.
“Welcome to St Marcus Academy! As you may know St Marcus academy is one of the top recommended schools for bright youngsters not unlike yourself. Here we provide the best facilities for our students to use to help them achieve their maximum potential. Having a scholarship to this school is a very good thing to be proud of Mr. Blaimeridge,” he stated as if her were a father proud of his son. I coughed uncomfortably at this one. He talked so much like a beaming father, my father never beamed at me. Not after he found out.
