Secrets in the Battlements

Chapter I

Her brush whipped furiously across the canvas as the clock read five minutes until submission. Stern faced judges sauntered around the room watching the applicants' every move. Violet took a deep breath and added the finishing streak of white to the belly of the fawn in her painting. She pulled her shoulder-length chocolate brown hair, that was falling across her face, back into her messy ponytail. She wiped her heated forehead and rubbed her perspiry palms on her apron. Taking off her apron she placed her brushes and palette down on the table beside her finished landscape of a tawny deer drinking from a crystal waterfall. Then she moved slowly to the designated seating area. Her mind was racing and her fingers nervously tapping her dark denim jeans.

Violet's mother awaited her with an anxious smile and loving eyes. "You did wonderful, darling." she kissed her daughter's cheek, followed by wiping a line of paint from her fair freckled skin. They waited for thirty minutes while esteemed artists from all over the world walked through the rows of paintings, characterizing them by style, color, brushstroke variety, and every possible factor in order to select the top amateur artists. After what seemed an eternity to most likely every student waiting, a magisterial man came before the audience. He cleared his throat in a pretentious manner.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Welcome, again, to the admission competition for the Art School at the esteemed university, Watson Academy. You have all come here to compete and discover if you qualify for a position in our elite program and whether or not you will be admitted to the Academy. As you know, Watson admits only 100 students to each of its individual major studies schools per year. Students from multiple different countries apply, I might add. So today you have come to demonstrate that you have the talent to enroll into one of the six programs at Watson Academy, in this case, the Arts! Ahem The judges have decided that three fortunate applicants will be induced into Watson Academy come this autumn."

His precocious tone of voice intensified the acclaimed prestige Watson held.

"Without further adieu, congratulations to...

Mr. Kennedy Marks."

Applause filled the room.

"Mr. Philip Krakowski."

More applause.

"And, Miss Violet Arnold."

When her named was called, Violet underwent that out- of-body experience a person feels when they're about to faint. Everyone in the room slowed down, voices boomed and movement became sluggish. In that moment Violet was the victim of this phenomenon except she was not literally passing out but in overjoyed shock. Suddenly the noise of her mother rejoicing and applause blared into her ears. She had did it. She had been accepted into her dream university.