The St Vinia Academy || An Academia School of Mysteries

❝ :: chapter one(michelle's pov)

first  sentence is inspired))

twelve. twelve dead students since the week and a half i've been here. fine, maybe a week and like three quarters. all bodies found in the woods at the back of the school. i hated this. i hadn't been attending this place for long, but i'd do anything to get one of my normal boarding school wake-ups again. it'd go something like this; morning light strays through the stunningly antique beige windows that reached from bottom to top of my room, making an arch with an edge at the top and lands on my silky bed sheets. i'd notice beige-bellied birds fly past. the people there may not've been so welcoming, but at least i had a pretty place to look forward to. it was better than i'd had in a while--- to look at. only in some places. it might seem stupid of me to want to leave so badly after not even being here for so long, maybe i even come off as selfish. perhaps you think this school is a dream come true. at first it may sound so,

"a parisean private boarding school, mysterious and delightfully filled with mysteries."

but all here are lost or have certainly gone mad. the school was old and quite catholic, all teachers there were catholic but we didn't really do much that involved religion. 

my room felt oddly quiet, even the birds seemed to have gone silent. usually i could hear their faint, blurred chirps that were slightly held back by the window's barrier. 

the window displayed the thick layer of fog layered all across the garden and woods. my dorm was the 7th floor, smelt of old books, and wasn't even supposed to be a dorm. i know there's some differences about it but only having been here for so long i didn't know it, nor did i bother to educate myself on it. the 7th floor was the second highest floor, and the eighth floor was something i hadn't heard many people talk about it so i assume it's not important. my room is actually essentially the school's attic, but don't let that fool you. it's really pretty. That's why people assume it's a good school.

the photo you see's only one angle at the school. it's way prettier in person. these big windows everywhere, a magical aura, it's really cool. my room's exterior was covered in a light layer of white-- barely-beige-but-still-beige paint and had enchanting carvings all across the ceiling. but a pretty bedroom will never cover up the innocent lives it's ended. i felt so horrible. a sickening, ill sensation of pure dread washed over me once again, my head spun out of pure insanity and confusion. i'd reminded myself of those poor twelve students. yes, they all hated me but i didn't care. a life is a life. there was something this school was hiding. you'd be lying if your gut didn't scream it from the start. my eyes hit the mirror's reflection harshly, i almost feared myself. i glared at myself in the golden circular mirror. i sharply turned my head, giving a glance at that horrid, miserable painting hung on the wall. it wasn't ugly, but it felt ugly. the feeling it brought off was ugly. i asked myself how i never thought about taking it down.  i doubt anyone could make out what it was of, but to me it appeared boy sitting dreadfully by a piano. a distressed look on his pale face. piles of bitter piano pieces sitting in the background, practically taunting him. i heard two light pecks at my window, to turn over and see two pairs of talons gripping at the outside of my windowsill. it'll never seize to confuse me. they wanted to get in, but i wanted to get out. i was drawn to the window but didn't want to pitty myself by seeing those awful woods. i sighed and pulled myself up. "i'd dealt with worse." i told myself. there was no reason to be upset over such a small thing. i fixed myself up out of the cold silky sheets i'd been under all night. a muttered voice echoed from outside my dorm's door. someone'd obviously said something pretentious. wasn't very special from how my day-to-day life went anyway. one of the crows stepped back and got out of sight, only for it to return later and get a better grasp with its dirty thin claws. i remember my father telling me delightful stories of vinia academy. the before of vinia academy. i'd be lying if i told you i wasn't afraid. no, afraid wasn't the right word. to put it lightly; nervous. i had forgotten about the birds by the time i realized i needed to get going. i walked over to the perpetually large mirror. a girl i never thought i'd know stared back at me. that girl was me. i wore a black lace tank top and a neatly ironed short night skirt. it wasn't my choice anyway. for some stupid reason the district assigned us nightly uniforms. i hated the skirt especially. only tonight i wore it because i had to speak to mr. milne last night and i wouldn't be found anywhere in trouble as much as i may seem careless. i walked myself over to the rack of clothes in the corner by my walk in closet. i sighed and stared myself in the eye, my reflection giving me a cold, frightened gaze in return. my brown, barely-gray tinted curtain bangs fall before me as i lean in, supporting my core by my arms that held onto the dresser counter. the mirror was a beautiful, khaki slate embroidered looking glass that remained propped up against my wall.