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Reagan High: Angelic Boarding School Of London
"We've got spirit!
Yes we do!
We've got sprit!
How about you?"
School spirit is a funny thing. It can mean many differet things. Of course, one in particular comes to mind. If you think of blonde girls in short skirts waving their pom-poms like there's no tomorrow, then congratulations, you're normal. If you think of...
"We've got spirit!
Yes we do!
We've got sprit!
How about you?"
School spirit is a funny thing. It can mean many differet things. Of course, one in particular comes to mind. If you think of blonde girls in short skirts waving their pom-poms like there's no tomorrow, then congratulations, you're normal. If you think of something else, you're one of us -- you're special.
What is "dead" exactly? Or rather, what is death? What does it mean? That should be the question, for in order for one to be truly dead, one must first experiennce death, or rather, the loss of life.
And what is life? A journey, beginning even before you take your last breath but ending with your last, for death is the end of all life.
I used to think so.
The dictionary defines a person who is dead as one who is no longer breathing. Sure, you could argue that it should be "a person who is no longer living," but you can breathe without living. However, you cannot live without breathing.
For instance, a man who confines himself to a small room for all his years is not living. He is not experiencing, therefore he is not truly alive. He does not feel the sunon his skin, the wind through his hair. Closing himself off, he does not feel the emotions of pain, pleasure, love and loss. He knows not the joys of the world, nor does he know its sorrows.
He is not living. He is dead. Dead before he reaces the grave.
And death is the end.
There is no second chance: no re-wind button on a universal remote-controller; no magic spell to turn back the hands of time in order for you to live again.
When you're dead, you're dead. There's no escaping it. Death is the end of your journey, the end of all that is good.
I used to think so...
I was wrong.
Jocelyn Annabeth Taylor was dead. Of this fact, there could be no doubt. No speculation, no mistake. Nothing. She was dead. Her heart did not beat, her skin was white as the snow of December and her pulse was non-existent. Therefore, as I have stated previously, there could be no doubt. She was dead. Her body was buried in the ground, left to decompose beneath the seeminly sacred soil of St. Judith's Cemetery where she became nothing but a memory, useless to all except the worms, vermin and maggots who made a feast of her rotting flesh.
She was dead.
Dead as dead can be.
You think as I did. You think death is the end, don't you? and ow I'm telling you otherwise, you don't believe me. You're thinking I'm crazy. You don't say it, but you think it. I can tell. You've got that look in your eyes, that vague look of confusion and slight fear, that look you get whn you cross the street when that strange man comes your way. I know all about him. I've talked to him. He's not strange at all, but of course you wouldn't kow that because you never took the time out to talk to him.
And why not?
Because you're afraid. You're afraid of him, not because he is strange -- strange he looks, it's true -- but because he is different. You fear what you do not know, and therefore you fear death and all that comes with it. You believe death to be the end.
Well, Jocelyn was dead, yet I could still see and hear her just as learly as when she were alive. She talked to me every day. We held many a stimulating conversation, she and I. Oh, the things we talked about. We laughed, we cried and we just ejoyed being i the company of the other.
But she was dead. She is dead, but she is here with me now. She watches as I type this. She is smiling, that familiar twinkle in her eye she only gets when she's really happy. She is really happy.
But how can she be?
Dead people don't feel emotion! Well...that's true. It's true, but at the same time, it isn't. See, for most, death is the end. They die and then their soul transfers to a strange land of in-betweens: a land outside of time, outside of space; a land with no good, no evil; a land of no colour, no light and therefore no darkness; a land of nothing...and everything. They wait there a while. One, two, maybe thre centuries -- oh, don't worry! It only feels like a few minutes, maybe a few hours, to them! -- and then they get called in for judgement. I don't know much about that. Neither does Jocelyn, she hasn't gone there yet. She can't. She's bound to this earth with a purpose. She cannot move on. She cannot leave this world.
This is what I mean. Death is the end for most, but some are forced to stay. Some want to stay -- they want to wath their childre mature into adults; they want to watch those adults have children of their own and then watch those children have children and those children have children until the end of time - but some simply cannot move on. They are what I like to call "The Trapped." They are here because they have unfinished business with the living.
Welcome to Reagan High, the most prestigious boarding School in the whole of England. Situated in the small town of Widow’s Peak, this small but thriving institution has been honored with academic awards galore. Known for producing alumni university students, world-renowned brain surgeons ad even once the first lady of a small nation called Endoria, this school is famed throughout the world.
But everything comes with a price...
The price we pay, two students each year. On the night of All Hallow's Eve, two students are thrown ceremonially from the eerie Widow's Peek as a sacrifice to our lord Satan.
Everyone believes this school teaches and preaches Christianity. Well, where's your Lord Jesus when you're being thrown to your deaths? Where is your precious God when you are enveloped by the merciless waters that rage beneath the rocky cliff on which you meet your ultimate demise?
There is only one God...and that is the God of Darkness.
But the God of Darkness
watch over you.
Why else would your body soar back into the sky after our ritual? Why would a smile sit on your face after you've witnessed the holy being of our God? He blesses you, then sends you back to us more alive then ever, as a Guardian Angel to protect the other students.
Well, they can't protect them from
It's an honor to be blessed by Satan then come back to help others, don't you think?
Guardian Angels more specifically are the students that have been sacrificed to our Dark Lord and have been blessed by Him. He sends them back to us to watch over our other students, to protect them, and make sure they do right. Though if you check the history of the students AND teachers, you might find that they've done a little more wrong than good...
Does Rosaletta ACTUALLY love Veronica, or is that just a trick? Is that pretty little head up to something? Are ALL of the pretty little heads up to something?
Noooo! They would never, EVER disobey US.
We apply discipline.
We're stern, strict, and selfish - that's what makes this the finest boarding school in London, and absolutely the most prestigious.
We wouldn't give our Dark Lord just anything, hell no!
Just for Fun
| Started December 2012
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