\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/1949264-Prestigious
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Campfire Creative · Appendix · Arts · #1949264
Elsa Cutfeather wins scholarship to writing school.
[Introduction]
In terms of judgement, people will always make rash assumptions about who you are. Your race, your gender, even class can't protect you. All of this is irrelevant to a person who doesn't know you. When confronted with something we are unfamiliar with, we as a whole will tend to reject it until it weaves its way into the mainstream, fights back, or dies off. Luck and guts are the only way to survive in this cruel real world.
But they're not the way to keep moving. I found this out the hard way the day I first attended a prestigious writing school.
No, you haven't read that wrong. writing. school.
This is the kind of place that only exists in the dreams of 15 year old girls with fanfiction accounts! And then some!
Both of my parents were reluctant to allow me to attend, but after a quest of pleading and convincing, they finally relented and I was on my way.

These types of schools are common in Vancouver or "The Hollywood of the North" as some people call it, but luckily (or unluckily, that depends on how you view it) for me, this one was right in Edmonton, my home away from home, my secret love my-yeah, I'll stop now.
Edmonton is a city an hour away from where I live, or half an hour in the winter. If the school allowed me, I would be able to stay with my older brother, Harley, who was attending The local University, but unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to do such a thing unless I paid for the tuition that I couldn't afford, so dorms it was. On the bright side, I was allowed to stay with Harley during the holidays so it wasn't all bad.

My father Lawrence was the one to drive me to the school, My Mother, Rosa, had work that day so we said our so longs the previous night. My Dad didn't try to make small talk with me or tell me about his day. To be honest, I preferred it that way, It was our way of being "us".
After a while my phone rang, it was Harley, I answered it in my lowest voice.
"Sup."
"How is it that my baby sister is growing up so fast when I'm trying so hard to do the opposite?"
"You know...there's a difference between growing down and just acting immature" I teased
I heard him groan in amusement "Touche Nisimis (my little sibling) Touche.......so what's this school called anyway?"
This time it was my turn to groan. Do you remember how I earlier described it as a "prestigious writing school"? Well, not only was it described as prestigious, but it was called-
"Prestigious" I finally answered, I could hear him chocking on whatever energy drink he was drinking today as he struggled to suppress his laughter.
"Yeah yeah....I know....Anyway, we're here, Bye"
"Yeah....." He hung up. My brother didn't believe in saying goodbye. Not even so long.
My Father turned to face me "Want me to walk you in?"
I shook my head "Thanks though" I kissed his cheek and went to get my suitcase.
Thinking back on it, I wished that I had taken him up on his offer. The place was enormous! But I knew that I couldn't let myself be intimidated. I took a step forward, and immediately, one of the many reflective doors burst open and a blonde in high heels came walking briskly out of the building. I took a look at her roots. She was a brunette. She clicked clacked over the cobblestones that formed a beautiful mural on the ground and click clacked up to me and stopped to study me. As soon as she did, she took a step back and wrinkled her nose
"You must be Elsa......"
I raised my eyebrow. This was going to be fun.

This item is currently blank.

Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/1949264-Prestigious