Sinners - The Puppet (currently being re-written)

Chapter 12 - Commence

Hellooooooooooooo! Sorry it took a while (lol, who am i kidding? this update took four months) but here is the update I promised last year  :)

This chapter was supposed to be published back in March but since I'm a graduating student, March and April were the busiest months for me so the rough draft sat in my computer untouched until I managed to finish it some time last week, I think.

So yeah, I graduated early May and I have tons of time until August when school starts so I guess I can at least promise you all that I will be writing (at least the drafts) until I'm busy again.

Here's to hoping that I'm encouraged to start working with this :D

Oh, and: "sensei "- the Japanese word for "teacher"

Thanks a lot for still reading this. I love you guys T^T

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Beginnings are tricky in how they always seem to engrave themselves within the deep recesses of the human subconscious and resurface time and time again regardless of whether they were even necessary. In reminiscence, for example, the memory rolls from the beginning and stops once the story has reached its peak. Rarely do people ever think first of what happens in between as, of course, what mattered more in a race was the signal that marked the start.

Indeed. Beginnings worked in such a manner. And perhaps that was why Nathaniel stood there thinking about the mark that set him off to begin this grand adventure. There he was, unmoving, as he gazed upon the majestic structure in sight. Around him, the world continued to turn, people continued to walk, and perhaps somewhere along the line, he thought that time would stop just as he had.

It was no more than a display of arrogance, however. Or maybe he just wasn't that important.

In any case, he, Nathaniel de La Cruz, was so frozen still that any passing artist could just up and start painting him for hours, finish the piece, and he still wouldn't move an inch. A bird may very well nest upon his mess of a hair and he wouldn't even notice.

But none of those things mattered. The important thing, which may perhaps be the reason why he would not move, was the sight those brown orbs took in at that exact moment.

St. Jude Academy. Nathaniel had done enough research about that place the moment his mother ever spoke its name. Every article in existence--whether digital or in print--spoke of the academy's long, long history since the day it was established eighty or so years ago (and in this manner, again, he speaks of beginnings). Success came with its name and the public would say being granted the privilege to attend that same academy was a golden ticket to a prosperous life of fame and expertise as its alumni were deemed to excel in any field of their choosing.

Such a reputation had caused quite the disturbance with each passing year due to the influx of students who dared to take the entrance exams. This in turn caused the passing rate to be no higher than a measly thirteen percent, unless perhaps if a student were to enter the school through a recommendation--which, to be frank, did not at all guarantee that said student has an undoubted chance of making it.

And of course when Nathaniel heard of this, his confidence sank all the way to the earth's core and is still missing even as he faced the gates of the school itself. In more ways than one, he was different from all those students who went through scorching trials to pride themselves in having been accepted into the academy. After all, it was not him who dared make an approach. He was invited.