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nobody knows this little rose —
it might a pilgrim be
did I not take it from the ways
and lift it up to thee.
only a bee will miss it —
only a butterfly,
hastening from far journey —
on its breast to lie —
only a bird will wonder —
only a breeze will sigh —
ah little rose — how easy
for such as thee to die! -Emily Dickinson

only a bee will miss it —only a butterfly,hastening from far journey —on its breast to lie —only a bird will wonder —only a breeze will sigh —ah little rose — how easyfor such as thee to die! -Emily Dickinson

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welcome to hell




To say that Angeline Scott was nervous would be an understatement. Here she was, standing in the middle of an all boy's school, having a private tour as if she owned the place. It's not like she wanted to draw attention to herself, being the only one not listening to the rather "academically stimulating" preachings of the headmaster of Welton, but it so happened that her father wanted to give her a more personal tour. So as Angeline trudged along the rather empty looking hallways, she followed the rather excited man as he babbled on about integrity and honor.

The distant sounds of bagpipes could be heard, bringing Angeline out of the sort of spell her father's voice had placed upon her. Calling out for her father, Angeline gestured to the large church-looking building across the open space.

"Why couldn't I just listen to the speech like everyone else Father? Maybe it would have given me a chance to actually make acquaintances with the people who go here." Angeline was quickly shut down by her father, who grabbed her arm and pulled her farther away.

"Angeline dear, I just thought you might want to have an outline of the school, without the interference of others. And besides, there will be plenty of time to become acquainted with all the teachers, you'll be in their classes." And he continued to walk, pointing to paintings and pictures of men along the way.

"I'm sure you'll be focused here Angeline. After all, this is where I got my education, and look where it got me, one of the finest Governors the United States has ever seen."

"More like just New York, Father."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just I've never met any other Governors. But I'm sure you would outrank them easily." Angeline's father seemed to grow with each step taken.

"Of course I would dear. I am certainly the most qualified." Angeline smirked, and picked up her pace.

"Of course."

Her father's quick gate slowed down tremendously when the pair reached the dormitories. It seemed that Angeline's father had a story that coincided with every room that they passed, from studying all night for excruciating tests, to plain housing for a close friend. After a while, the stories began to rumble and numbed Angeline out of existence.

rain and roses - steven meeksWhere stories live. Discover now