Post by Redkit on Aug 11, 2014 19:03:11 GMT -6
TITLE: Red Reaping
AUTHOR: Lumos
WARNING: mentions of abuse, suicide, cutting, bullying, torture, violence, and bloodshed in the following story. DO NOT COME RUNNING TO ME SAYING I DIDN'T WARN YOU. If any of the aforementioned is a trigger, don't read. You don't like, don't read or continue.
Remember: This is my story, and I get to write it the way I want. Don't try to convince me to change anything. You can suggest, but it is most likely I won't follow through with it. Oh, and the ideas for this story are properly mine.
---
CH 1
"AESTUS UMBRA!"
Uh oh. I dropped the book I was holding in my hand, the blood draining from my face. What did I do?! My mum was normally never this angry. I hurtled towards my closet door, quickly pulling myself in and hiding in the small space above my meager amount of clothes. Tugging my fingers through my messy dark brown hair, my hectic breathing slowly returned to normal when my mum, Lues Umbra, stormed past my door.
Obviously, the Latin woman was drunk and thought I was in my former room, a small closet. Taking a deep breath, I carefully opened the door to peer nervously in my new room. I didn't own much. Just a twin bed with tight-fitting bleached sheets, a hand-me-down gray duvet, and a small flat pillow. A teddy bear was propped up against the wall. A small bookcase with stolen books in it, several clearly worn from being read so much. A holey closet that had two pairs of old jeans, three too big t-shirts, a ratty hoodie, and a stolen brown trenchcoat from my father's closet. A space above the clothes that held nothing but dust bunnies. It usually became my hiding place when escaping from my six (six!) older siblings and mother.
A sigh escaped me as I climbed down and carefully eased my closet door open. The wooden floor creaked beneath me, and I winced slightly at the ominous noise. Easing myself across the wooden floor, I opened the door again to reach the bathroom across the hallway. Closing my door, I entered the bathroom with a long-suffering sigh.
I glanced at myself through the mirror, not really surprised to see a smaller than normal boy looking out at me. My dark brown hair hung around my shoulders, in need of a good wash and knotted. Hollow, hungry sapphire blue eyes were huge on my smaller fifteen year old form, framing my feminine-ish face nicely. I winced when I saw the bruise on my jaw, a few scratches on my face, and torso. The worst of the scars was a word carved into my skin with a knife on my right fore-arm. Freak. I sighed, pulling off the clothes, and got into the shower.
With the warm water encasing my body, I wondered what would happen if I tried to drown myself... Nah. Even if no one would miss me, I value my life too much. The geeky kid who ended up at the top of the class, the kid who didn't have any friends, the geeky kid who was usually in their own little world, the kid who read too much.. that's me.
---
My name is Aestus Tenebrae Umbra. Don't ever ask about my name, as that's on my birth certificate.
My life sucks, as you can tell so far. Don't question anything I do, because I have a gift. I think of it as the Curse-that-Refused-to-Bend-to-My-Wishes. It works on its own, and I don't really care.
Want to know what my gift, or my "Curse" is? I can see the dead. They can't really talk to me, and I can't talk to them. They just stare at me. It may sound creepy to you, but when you're born with your Curse you just get used to it I suppose. My dad told me when he was alive he had this gift too. Then he died in some kind of weird accident.
Ever see a guy dangling from lamp-post with his legs tied together and the words dripping down in blood: "THE DEAD ARE WATCHING"? It might sound scary as hell, because it is. It scared the absolute crap out of me when I looked out my window one morning.
Anyways.. on with the story.
Questions will be answered.
---
I finished my shower and tugged on my clothes. Pulling my hair back into a loose, high pony-tail, I crept out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I froze when I entered. A short man with shoulder-length dark brown hair hovered in my corner. His black eyes studied me silently, his form flickering slightly. I stared at him. He stared back. The man's black trenchcoat hung by his ankles, his black uniform clad body lax as he leaned against my bookshelf.
His eyes shifted to my bed, and I followed his gaze. A similar black outfit was lain on the bed, with my black trenchcoat and a pair of knee-high combat boots at the foot. The man gestured for me to change, before flickering as he straightened. With a silent salute, he disappeared.
When I was little, I learned the hard way to follow the orders of the dead. If I didn't follow, the dead would start to get angry. You wouldn't want to deal with a pissed poltergeist now would you? Silently dressing in the clothes, I watched the corner with a growing feeling of dread. What was going on?
"Hurry!" someone hissed in my ear. I jumped, startled at the voice. Ghosts normally didn't try to talk to me; I was probably vaguely interesting in their eyes. I whirled around swiftly, making the same man from earlier glare at me.
"What's going on?" I spat back, the feeling of dread growing.
"Something bad is rising from Hell. We need you to help us." the ghost softly said, his black eyes full of fright. I had never seen someone so scared before, so I instantly obeyed the ghost with no question.
"Right. What do I do?" A deep red envelope was slapped into my hand.
"I want you to read this. It's an acceptance letter to Hell's Academy."
I ripped it open, not noticing the black wax stamp on the front that read "HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE SUPERNATURALLY GIFTED."
HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE SUPERNATURALLY GIFTED
Dear Mr. Tenebrae-Umbra,
We are proud to admit to you that you have been accepted at Hell's Academy: School for the Supernaturally Gifted. Inside, you'll find a list of the required school items for the following year. Your ticket to the Gates of Hell is included. Since you are descended from both a cat-demon and elemental-demon, a representative from our school will come by on October 23rd to get your items for the following year.
Term starts October 31st.
Sincerely,
Erebus Nocht
Assistant Director
HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE NATURALLY GIFTED
School Supply List
--
UNIFORM:
...Seven sets of the Training uniform (black)
...One pair of protected gloves (Hellhound skin)
...One trenchcoat (black, with red fastenings)
...Please note that all uniforms should carry their last name embroidered on the trenchcoat.
Books:
Dark Creatures and How to Care for Them- by Ithil Dron
Dark Standard- by Dorothea Ignis
Magis Theory- by Fleia Achis (optional)
Demonic History- by Plonea Yich
Defensive Arts- by Harnold Theat
Other Equipment:
1 Weapon of choice (depends if you're elemental or a magis)
1 Carry-on bag to carry stuff
1 set of vials
1 amulet of your heritage
Key to your room once registered.
TBC...
AUTHOR: Lumos
WARNING: mentions of abuse, suicide, cutting, bullying, torture, violence, and bloodshed in the following story. DO NOT COME RUNNING TO ME SAYING I DIDN'T WARN YOU. If any of the aforementioned is a trigger, don't read. You don't like, don't read or continue.
Remember: This is my story, and I get to write it the way I want. Don't try to convince me to change anything. You can suggest, but it is most likely I won't follow through with it. Oh, and the ideas for this story are properly mine.
---
CH 1
"AESTUS UMBRA!"
Uh oh. I dropped the book I was holding in my hand, the blood draining from my face. What did I do?! My mum was normally never this angry. I hurtled towards my closet door, quickly pulling myself in and hiding in the small space above my meager amount of clothes. Tugging my fingers through my messy dark brown hair, my hectic breathing slowly returned to normal when my mum, Lues Umbra, stormed past my door.
Obviously, the Latin woman was drunk and thought I was in my former room, a small closet. Taking a deep breath, I carefully opened the door to peer nervously in my new room. I didn't own much. Just a twin bed with tight-fitting bleached sheets, a hand-me-down gray duvet, and a small flat pillow. A teddy bear was propped up against the wall. A small bookcase with stolen books in it, several clearly worn from being read so much. A holey closet that had two pairs of old jeans, three too big t-shirts, a ratty hoodie, and a stolen brown trenchcoat from my father's closet. A space above the clothes that held nothing but dust bunnies. It usually became my hiding place when escaping from my six (six!) older siblings and mother.
A sigh escaped me as I climbed down and carefully eased my closet door open. The wooden floor creaked beneath me, and I winced slightly at the ominous noise. Easing myself across the wooden floor, I opened the door again to reach the bathroom across the hallway. Closing my door, I entered the bathroom with a long-suffering sigh.
I glanced at myself through the mirror, not really surprised to see a smaller than normal boy looking out at me. My dark brown hair hung around my shoulders, in need of a good wash and knotted. Hollow, hungry sapphire blue eyes were huge on my smaller fifteen year old form, framing my feminine-ish face nicely. I winced when I saw the bruise on my jaw, a few scratches on my face, and torso. The worst of the scars was a word carved into my skin with a knife on my right fore-arm. Freak. I sighed, pulling off the clothes, and got into the shower.
With the warm water encasing my body, I wondered what would happen if I tried to drown myself... Nah. Even if no one would miss me, I value my life too much. The geeky kid who ended up at the top of the class, the kid who didn't have any friends, the geeky kid who was usually in their own little world, the kid who read too much.. that's me.
---
My name is Aestus Tenebrae Umbra. Don't ever ask about my name, as that's on my birth certificate.
My life sucks, as you can tell so far. Don't question anything I do, because I have a gift. I think of it as the Curse-that-Refused-to-Bend-to-My-Wishes. It works on its own, and I don't really care.
Want to know what my gift, or my "Curse" is? I can see the dead. They can't really talk to me, and I can't talk to them. They just stare at me. It may sound creepy to you, but when you're born with your Curse you just get used to it I suppose. My dad told me when he was alive he had this gift too. Then he died in some kind of weird accident.
Ever see a guy dangling from lamp-post with his legs tied together and the words dripping down in blood: "THE DEAD ARE WATCHING"? It might sound scary as hell, because it is. It scared the absolute crap out of me when I looked out my window one morning.
Anyways.. on with the story.
Questions will be answered.
---
I finished my shower and tugged on my clothes. Pulling my hair back into a loose, high pony-tail, I crept out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I froze when I entered. A short man with shoulder-length dark brown hair hovered in my corner. His black eyes studied me silently, his form flickering slightly. I stared at him. He stared back. The man's black trenchcoat hung by his ankles, his black uniform clad body lax as he leaned against my bookshelf.
His eyes shifted to my bed, and I followed his gaze. A similar black outfit was lain on the bed, with my black trenchcoat and a pair of knee-high combat boots at the foot. The man gestured for me to change, before flickering as he straightened. With a silent salute, he disappeared.
When I was little, I learned the hard way to follow the orders of the dead. If I didn't follow, the dead would start to get angry. You wouldn't want to deal with a pissed poltergeist now would you? Silently dressing in the clothes, I watched the corner with a growing feeling of dread. What was going on?
"Hurry!" someone hissed in my ear. I jumped, startled at the voice. Ghosts normally didn't try to talk to me; I was probably vaguely interesting in their eyes. I whirled around swiftly, making the same man from earlier glare at me.
"What's going on?" I spat back, the feeling of dread growing.
"Something bad is rising from Hell. We need you to help us." the ghost softly said, his black eyes full of fright. I had never seen someone so scared before, so I instantly obeyed the ghost with no question.
"Right. What do I do?" A deep red envelope was slapped into my hand.
"I want you to read this. It's an acceptance letter to Hell's Academy."
I ripped it open, not noticing the black wax stamp on the front that read "HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE SUPERNATURALLY GIFTED."
HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE SUPERNATURALLY GIFTED
Dear Mr. Tenebrae-Umbra,
We are proud to admit to you that you have been accepted at Hell's Academy: School for the Supernaturally Gifted. Inside, you'll find a list of the required school items for the following year. Your ticket to the Gates of Hell is included. Since you are descended from both a cat-demon and elemental-demon, a representative from our school will come by on October 23rd to get your items for the following year.
Term starts October 31st.
Sincerely,
Erebus Nocht
Assistant Director
HELL'S ACADEMY: SCHOOL FOR THE NATURALLY GIFTED
School Supply List
--
UNIFORM:
...Seven sets of the Training uniform (black)
...One pair of protected gloves (Hellhound skin)
...One trenchcoat (black, with red fastenings)
...Please note that all uniforms should carry their last name embroidered on the trenchcoat.
Books:
Dark Creatures and How to Care for Them- by Ithil Dron
Dark Standard- by Dorothea Ignis
Magis Theory- by Fleia Achis (optional)
Demonic History- by Plonea Yich
Defensive Arts- by Harnold Theat
Other Equipment:
1 Weapon of choice (depends if you're elemental or a magis)
1 Carry-on bag to carry stuff
1 set of vials
1 amulet of your heritage
Key to your room once registered.
TBC...