Winterfrost Academy

Winterfrost Academy

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Houses:

Summary

A hated girl receives a mysterious letter in the mail. She reads it, but decides to ignore it. Then, she awakens from her slumber, only to be greeted by a tall, slim lady with a bun in her hair. "Welcome to Winterfrost Academy," she says. Violet Withermore was confused, until she got these amazing abilities. She actually made some friends, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt happy. But then, when the other students start losing their powers and start becoming weaker, to the point of comatose, it's up to Violet and her friends that will save the day, and solve the mystery, whilst finding the truth of why they’re here.
Share :
Twitter

Summary

A hated girl receives a mysterious letter in the mail. She reads it, but decides to ignore it. Then, she awakens from her slumber, only to be greeted by a tall, slim lady with a bun in her hair. "Welcome to Winterfrost Academy," she says. Violet Withermore was confused, until she got these amazing abilities. She actually made some friends, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt happy. But then, when the other students start losing their powers and start becoming weaker, to the point of comatose, it's up to Violet and her friends that will save the day, and solve the mystery, whilst finding the truth of why they’re here.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 1 - Monday

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 13, 2017

Reads: 15

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 13, 2017

A A A

A A A

Ugh. Tomorrow is Monday. Another miserable day at school. Nobody likes me there. The only person that “likes” me, is Mrs. Kamm, my science teacher. Science is my all time favorite subject. I especially like learning about the winter weather, and many other things. I really want to be a meteorologist when I grow up. It’s my lifelong dream! Too bad science is my last hour of the day.

“Violet, time to get up!” My mother hollers loudly, even if she’s 5 inches away from me. I grumble and roll off of my bed, along with all of my blankets. Why must Monday exist? Why must school exist?! I slowly push the blankets off of me, glaring at my mother.

“You better hurry dear, you only have twenty minutes before the bus comes!” She exclaimed. She then wandered out of my room, shutting the door behind her. Are you kidding me!? Twenty minutes?! Crap! I thought, quickly jumping out of my huge pile of blankets, and then running to my drawers. I pull a bunch of random clothes out of my drawers, and shove them on. Ugh, they don’t even match! I guess that’s what you get for sleeping in and ignoring your mother, yelling at you to get your butt out of bed. I hurried out of my room, brushed my dreadlocks hair a bit, grabbed my phone, then my backpack, and grabbed my shoes. My little brother Lucky, saw my shiny phone sticking out of my pocket, and swiftly grabbed it.

“HEY!! LUCKY, GIVE IT BACK!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, dropping the only shoe in my hand, and chasing my dumb, 8-year-old brother around.

“Gotta catch me first!!” He yelled back to me. He started giggling a bunch.

“This isn’t funny! You’re going to make me late!!” I screeched to him. I kinda wished he had school today, because he would be hurrying to get ready as well. Too bad. My mother suddenly stopped Lucky dead in his tracks.

“Lucky, can you give Violet her phone back, please?” She said in a sincere tone. Lucky grumbled a bunch and dragged his feet over to me, slapping my phone into my hand. I quickly grab my other shoe, shove it on, scoop up my backpack, and run outside. The bus has just barely pulled in front of my house, and I run like a madwoman to it. Phew! Just in the nick of time. I cautiously wander up the giant bus steps, and look at the other kids on the bus. Some are glaring at me, others set their backpacks on the other free spot, or scoot to the outer side of the seat, hoping that I don’t come near them. I hang my head down and head to the back of the bus. One seat is open. I slip into it, wishing I had friends that would do anything for me. The reason why nobody likes me, is that they know my dad was once the most wanted criminal, for murder, and dealing drugs. He’s in jail right now, and has been in jail ever since I was five. The person who hates me the most, is Taya Masson, whose father was killed by my father. But that was like, 8 years ago. She’s in my science and history class, and sadly she’s my partner in both. I see her on the other side of the bus, facing the window.

“Hi Taya! How are you doing?” I say, waving to her. She turns her head toward me, growls, and then turns her head back toward the window. She pulls out her phone and taps on it a bit. I sigh and turn my head toward the window too. I grab hold of my golden heart locket with a picture of my big sister in it, who died in a car accident 7 years ago. Fifteen minutes go by, and with a sudden jerk, the bus stops right in front of my school. Krispen Middle School. Another miserable 7th grade day.  I drag my feet into my giant school, and as usual, everybody snickers at me, glares at me, or purposely bumps into me. One kid shoved me into a wall and pretended nothing happened.

“Ouch! Grrr, thanks a lot!” I yell to him, getting up and scooping up my backpack. He laughed and continued walking. I cradle my arm and head down the 7th and 8th grade hallway. The 6th graders have their own hallway, since there is no room in our hallway. I go up to my locker, and cautiously turn the dial to the right numbers. When I finish putting in my combination, I open it with a click. I hang my backpack on the hook in my locker, and take out my binder, book, and pencil. Suddenly, the bell rings, loud in my ears. I better hurry to class! I slam my locker shut and run to my first class. Writing. I stand in the doorway, when some kid suddenly pushes me out of the way, murmuring, “move”. He always does that. I shakily sit in my chair, right when the bell rings.

“Okay students, pull out your homework from yesterday.” Mr. Jamice, our writing teacher, says. I open up my binder and look through my papers. What?! Where is it? My homework! Oh crap. I thought. I totally forgot!!! I left it on the table at home! This can’t be good. . . Everyone passes their homework to the right, and I just sit on my chair, like a helpless puppy dog. Mr. Jamice looks directly at me, collects all the papers, looks through them, and slams them on his desk. Gulp, here it comes. . .

“Miss Withermore, where is your homework?” Mr. Jamice says, in a low, and agitated tone.

“Umm, umm, uh, I, well, I, uhh. . .” I stumble on my words, nothing would come out.

“Sorry Miss Withermore, but I’m going to have to give you an F.” Mr. Jamice says coldly, going to his computer, probably to edit my report card and put an F on writing. I can’t believe this has happened! I worked so hard on that essay! And all I get is one measly F. Ugh, I hate this class, I hate this school, I hate this life! I wish I can be a normal girl with normal friends, normal teachers, normal everything! But instead, I have to stand there and watch all the people push me into walls, all the teachers give me F’s, and all the people staring at me and snickering at me, pleased that I got an F and they didn’t.

. . .

Hours go by, I watch the clock. Soon, science will be over. The second hand hits twelve, and the school bell rings for the last time of today. I can finally go home and pretend this day never existed! I hop up and zip to my locker, but on the way, I get shoved by a handful of kids. The usual. When I finally make it to my locker, put in the combination, and open it, a small, folded piece of white paper fluttered out. I sigh, pick it up, and open it. It read, You’re a loser. Don’t you dare think that I could, and would EVER, be friends with you. Nobody likes you, especially me. Why on earth do you keep talking to me?! I’m sick and tired of it. My dad did NOT deserve to die like this! Just stop talking to me, ESPECIALLY me! I wish you were dead, and I’m happy you’re evil father is rotting in jail. Why won’t you DIE already?!I look straight up from the note. There were a few dried up, damp stains on the paper. A wet tear rolls down my face. Like I should live…  Obviously, the note was from Taya, and she was feeling a lot worse today. Probably because I tried to talk to her. I get a lot of hate notes in my locker most of the time, but THIS really crushes my heart. More tears roll down my face. Now I really am sick of living here. I sniffle, and wipe the tears away. I tear up the note, and sigh. I wish my father hadn’t made these intentional mistakes. Otherwise, I would be happier. I weakly grab my backpack, put my stuff inside of it, softly close my locker, and very slowly walk to the school bus stop. I climb on, and head to the way back of the bus, ignoring the glaring eyes. Taya is at the way front of the bus, and I’m glad she is. Why is my life like this? I really wish I could start fresh, and move to a new city, or state, or country, even! Nobody would know who I was, and I could easily make friends. If only… I lived on another planet.

 


© Copyright 2017 Smart Cookie. All rights reserved.

Chapters
Booksie Spring 2017 Flash Fiction Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Smart Cookie

Popular Tags