"Brad, wake up..." an older woman said. She was in her mid forties, with curly red hair and a full body. The woman slowly rubbed a lump of blankets and sheets.
"Go away mom... Seven more minutes... At least." the lump muttered.
"Bradley! You gotta wake up. Today is the big day. First day back to school!" The mother piped. She grabbed a handful of baseball print blankets and ripped them to the ground. This revealed a thin looking boy dressed in only a pair of plaid fleece pants. Brad growled and jumped off the bed. He shoved his mom forcefully out of his bedroom, muttering obscenities under his breath. Brad slammed his door behind her, listening to the clanking sound of various medals against wood. It was music to his ears, the sound of many victories. Brad was a very athletic boy, swim team, track team, and even the quarter back on his football team. And now, he was starting his softmore year in high school. Bradley poked through a wire dresser in his closet quickly, grabbing a shirt and some jeans. He never paid much attention to what he wore, it didn't mean anything to him. A loud ringing sound burst through the room. Brad yawned loudly before reaching over to his nightstand. The source of the ringing was a small, gray, cell phone.
"Hello?" the boy muttered, flipping the phone open.
"Yo Brad, the boys and I are skipping school today. You in?" the man on the other line asked.
"Sorry man, I have a game later tonight. It's the big scrimmage and coach will kick my ass if I'm not there." Brad calmly denied. He used his free hand to push open his bedroom door and hurried downstairs. Bradley Reginald Coop came from a very wealthy family of inventors and C.E.O's. This was the reason his house was a gargantuan mansion. If the Coop's and their extended family combined all their wealth, they could buy the entire world. The mansion had a complete gym with everything from a lap pool to an exotic ninjitsu master all the way from Japan. They had three sun rooms, an observatory, five guest rooms, and one master bedroom with a bathtub made of solid gold. Bradley and his family did not sit in the lap of luxury, they were the lap of luxury. Every year his mother donated two million dollars to four different charities as a way of giving back. His father held a fundraiser, in which he drugged the punch with a homemade drug which made people more generous, and donated all the proceeds to animal shelters and endangered species such as manatees and condors. Brad snatched a bagel off the brazilian rosewood counter and plucked his backpack off the floor. All the carpets were made from llama and alpaca fur which had been gifted to them by a group of Peruvian farmers. He pushed open his front door and stumbled down another flight of stairs. These lead to a beautifully decorated courtyard with a rose garden and fish pond. Coolly, Brad hurried down some winding paths and out to the driveway.
"Jeeves! I need a lift to school, can you manage?" he said, waving to a boy his age. Jeeves was carefully waxing a beautiful car and looked behind his shoulder.
"Of course, young master. Which car?" the servant replied. He had been a lowly orphan which Brad's family had adopted as their butler. Surprisingly enough, he was only fifteen. No one ever said anything about him though, they were too afraid to anger the family.
"Um..." Bradley put a finger to his lips in thought. "Cobra I guess."
"Black stripe or red?" Jeeves inquired.
"Black." Brad yawned again. Jeeves quickly marched into a giant garage. He daintily picked up a set of keys and inserted them into the ignition. Jeeves Hummed to himself happily as he pulled the car into the driveway. Bradley hopped in the car lethargically, dreading the start of another school year. Just another 365 days of sitting around for six hours. On the other hand, Jeeves had always wanted to go to a school. He'd been found by Brad's family when they vacationed in Britain. They'd smuggled him back and taught him to be their servant. At the age of ten he was making crem bru le and braised Rosemary lamb shanks. Jeeves wasn't just a servant however, he was Brad's best friend. While his mother was off being a C.E.O and his father was locked in his office, Jeeves was always there for Brad. However, the boy didn't understand much about the world, often questioning it. Perhaps it was his overwhelming logical mind which led him to oppose the faults in things. Silently, he drove Bradley to school.
"Good morning students let's get right to work." a very robust and sweaty man mumbled. He shoved the remains of a powdered doughnut into his mouth. "I'm Mr. Warrantel and I'll be your first period history teacher... Today, I'd like to start off with a little intel on the folklore of death. You know, the grim reaper and such."
"Like shinigami?!" a tan skinned girl piped. Mr. Warrantel turned to face her and growled lowly. It was a terrible sound that was scarier than the roar of a lion.
"Yes, Miss Scotlyn, like shinigami." he sneered. Brad scoffed at his anger, finding it stupid and childish. He wasn't one to get mad over nothing. Brad was a firm believer in the saying 'if you sweat the small stuff you'll drown'. Warrantel waddled up to the front of the room. He pulled down a projector screen, having to jump to reach the cord due to his stoutness. The disgruntled teacher then switched his computer on and put up a slideshow. It seemed to only be pictures of a skeletal being in a black cloak, gripping a scythe. However it soon changed to pictures of wild looking demon's and even to a picture of what death would look like as a human. "Death is said to be many things, mainly we think of it as just passing to the other side. However, many people think that the grim reaper is death and-"
"Knocky, Knocky Mr. Warrantel! Guess who has a new student?" a very peppy secretary said. She was standing in the doorway right next to a very small girl. Her hair was the color of a raven's feathers, rich and black. It was slightly curled at the ends, giving her a more ghastly appearance. The child's skin was pale and she had huge, dark, bags under her eyes. Brad slowly moved his gaze back to the slideshow. At first, he thought it was just a joke. A harmless prank pulled by the new girl. But as the seconds passed, Brad realized something. The picture currently displayed was that of the new girl.
"Hopefully not me..." Mr. Warrantel snarled. A few saliva particles flew off his lips as he spoke. The girl drew back at the sight of him, nearly cowering.
"It's you silly billy! This here is Golgotha Mournsing! Everyone say hello!" the secretary cheered. Golgotha was utterly disgusted with her cheekiness. She wondered if the woman ever stopped being so peppy. If Golgotha could have, she would have killed her instantly.
"I um... I told you to call me death." she protested.
"Hi Golgotha..." a few of the students muttered. Without any warning a young boy stood in his seat. He had straight dark hair that covered his eyes and wore a giant black trench coat. The boy pointed a gloved finger at Golgotha, breathing heavily. Bradley perked up and watched intently as the scene unfolded.
"I-I know y-" he began but was cut short as he fell to the floor. There was a loud thud as his body impacted with the cold hard linoleum floor. Scarlet blood trickled out in a small pool. The pool began to dissipate and in an act that seemed straight from a horror movie, it slowly drained toward Golgotha. Screams filled the room with shrill panic. Children ran from the classroom, pushing and shoving Golgotha out of their way. Even Mr. Warrantel and the perky secretary fled the scene. Only Bradley stayed behind to gape. Watching as the small stream of blood wet the soles of Golgotha's black, knee-length, boots.
CHAPTER TWO
"I am so, so sorry you had to see that. And especially on your first day. Would you like to go home, Golgotha? You can if you need to. What about you Brad? Are you alright?" a different, much less joyous secretary asked. Golgotha could actually stand to be near this one, relieved that the other had gone home in a pool of runny mascara and washed out eyeshadow. She feared that if she stayed around for too long, people might get suspicious.
"Is he okay?! Is he in the hospital?! What happened?!" Bradley cried. He was utterly lost. First he saw the matching photo of death and Golgotha and now a kid had cracked his skull open. It all seemed to sinister, like a bad dream. What if Golgotha was death? What if he was next? The probability that something was about to go wrong for him was immense. And what would his family do if Golgotha killed him? He was the only air to the Coop throne. Bradley had a bad feeling brewing deep inside his soul, a feeling that bubbled with intensity and fear.
"Cooper is just fine. He's in surgery right now and the doctors are fixing his skull." the normal secretary said. She spoke with the calmness of someone who had seen death before and understood it. In fact, Miss Perumal was a retired medical examiner and an extremely pragmatic individual. She'd lost her own son in a car crash and her husband had been mugged and shot. Needless to say, death seemed to eagerly follow Miss Perumal through her life.
"O-okay... I'll stay here. I have to go to a scrimmage game tonight anyway." Bradley sighed, leaning back in the cushy office chair. Perumal nodded darkly and turned to Golgotha. She was staring, in a very confused manor, at a phone.
"I'm fine as well. My parents are nurses and work all day and night. They almost never come home, not even on holidays. I support my younger sister and I live at 1187 Chortle Avenue. My best friends are my sister, Helena April Mournsing, and my significant other, Gunter Missin Ross." Golgotha said in an emotionless and nearly robotic fashion. Bradley shifted uneasily in his seat. Giant, metal, butterflies were attacking his stomach at this point.
"Go away mom... Seven more minutes... At least." the lump muttered.
"Bradley! You gotta wake up. Today is the big day. First day back to school!" The mother piped. She grabbed a handful of baseball print blankets and ripped them to the ground. This revealed a thin looking boy dressed in only a pair of plaid fleece pants. Brad growled and jumped off the bed. He shoved his mom forcefully out of his bedroom, muttering obscenities under his breath. Brad slammed his door behind her, listening to the clanking sound of various medals against wood. It was music to his ears, the sound of many victories. Brad was a very athletic boy, swim team, track team, and even the quarter back on his football team. And now, he was starting his softmore year in high school. Bradley poked through a wire dresser in his closet quickly, grabbing a shirt and some jeans. He never paid much attention to what he wore, it didn't mean anything to him. A loud ringing sound burst through the room. Brad yawned loudly before reaching over to his nightstand. The source of the ringing was a small, gray, cell phone.
"Hello?" the boy muttered, flipping the phone open.
"Yo Brad, the boys and I are skipping school today. You in?" the man on the other line asked.
"Sorry man, I have a game later tonight. It's the big scrimmage and coach will kick my ass if I'm not there." Brad calmly denied. He used his free hand to push open his bedroom door and hurried downstairs. Bradley Reginald Coop came from a very wealthy family of inventors and C.E.O's. This was the reason his house was a gargantuan mansion. If the Coop's and their extended family combined all their wealth, they could buy the entire world. The mansion had a complete gym with everything from a lap pool to an exotic ninjitsu master all the way from Japan. They had three sun rooms, an observatory, five guest rooms, and one master bedroom with a bathtub made of solid gold. Bradley and his family did not sit in the lap of luxury, they were the lap of luxury. Every year his mother donated two million dollars to four different charities as a way of giving back. His father held a fundraiser, in which he drugged the punch with a homemade drug which made people more generous, and donated all the proceeds to animal shelters and endangered species such as manatees and condors. Brad snatched a bagel off the brazilian rosewood counter and plucked his backpack off the floor. All the carpets were made from llama and alpaca fur which had been gifted to them by a group of Peruvian farmers. He pushed open his front door and stumbled down another flight of stairs. These lead to a beautifully decorated courtyard with a rose garden and fish pond. Coolly, Brad hurried down some winding paths and out to the driveway.
"Jeeves! I need a lift to school, can you manage?" he said, waving to a boy his age. Jeeves was carefully waxing a beautiful car and looked behind his shoulder.
"Of course, young master. Which car?" the servant replied. He had been a lowly orphan which Brad's family had adopted as their butler. Surprisingly enough, he was only fifteen. No one ever said anything about him though, they were too afraid to anger the family.
"Um..." Bradley put a finger to his lips in thought. "Cobra I guess."
"Black stripe or red?" Jeeves inquired.
"Black." Brad yawned again. Jeeves quickly marched into a giant garage. He daintily picked up a set of keys and inserted them into the ignition. Jeeves Hummed to himself happily as he pulled the car into the driveway. Bradley hopped in the car lethargically, dreading the start of another school year. Just another 365 days of sitting around for six hours. On the other hand, Jeeves had always wanted to go to a school. He'd been found by Brad's family when they vacationed in Britain. They'd smuggled him back and taught him to be their servant. At the age of ten he was making crem bru le and braised Rosemary lamb shanks. Jeeves wasn't just a servant however, he was Brad's best friend. While his mother was off being a C.E.O and his father was locked in his office, Jeeves was always there for Brad. However, the boy didn't understand much about the world, often questioning it. Perhaps it was his overwhelming logical mind which led him to oppose the faults in things. Silently, he drove Bradley to school.
"Good morning students let's get right to work." a very robust and sweaty man mumbled. He shoved the remains of a powdered doughnut into his mouth. "I'm Mr. Warrantel and I'll be your first period history teacher... Today, I'd like to start off with a little intel on the folklore of death. You know, the grim reaper and such."
"Like shinigami?!" a tan skinned girl piped. Mr. Warrantel turned to face her and growled lowly. It was a terrible sound that was scarier than the roar of a lion.
"Yes, Miss Scotlyn, like shinigami." he sneered. Brad scoffed at his anger, finding it stupid and childish. He wasn't one to get mad over nothing. Brad was a firm believer in the saying 'if you sweat the small stuff you'll drown'. Warrantel waddled up to the front of the room. He pulled down a projector screen, having to jump to reach the cord due to his stoutness. The disgruntled teacher then switched his computer on and put up a slideshow. It seemed to only be pictures of a skeletal being in a black cloak, gripping a scythe. However it soon changed to pictures of wild looking demon's and even to a picture of what death would look like as a human. "Death is said to be many things, mainly we think of it as just passing to the other side. However, many people think that the grim reaper is death and-"
"Knocky, Knocky Mr. Warrantel! Guess who has a new student?" a very peppy secretary said. She was standing in the doorway right next to a very small girl. Her hair was the color of a raven's feathers, rich and black. It was slightly curled at the ends, giving her a more ghastly appearance. The child's skin was pale and she had huge, dark, bags under her eyes. Brad slowly moved his gaze back to the slideshow. At first, he thought it was just a joke. A harmless prank pulled by the new girl. But as the seconds passed, Brad realized something. The picture currently displayed was that of the new girl.
"Hopefully not me..." Mr. Warrantel snarled. A few saliva particles flew off his lips as he spoke. The girl drew back at the sight of him, nearly cowering.
"It's you silly billy! This here is Golgotha Mournsing! Everyone say hello!" the secretary cheered. Golgotha was utterly disgusted with her cheekiness. She wondered if the woman ever stopped being so peppy. If Golgotha could have, she would have killed her instantly.
"I um... I told you to call me death." she protested.
"Hi Golgotha..." a few of the students muttered. Without any warning a young boy stood in his seat. He had straight dark hair that covered his eyes and wore a giant black trench coat. The boy pointed a gloved finger at Golgotha, breathing heavily. Bradley perked up and watched intently as the scene unfolded.
"I-I know y-" he began but was cut short as he fell to the floor. There was a loud thud as his body impacted with the cold hard linoleum floor. Scarlet blood trickled out in a small pool. The pool began to dissipate and in an act that seemed straight from a horror movie, it slowly drained toward Golgotha. Screams filled the room with shrill panic. Children ran from the classroom, pushing and shoving Golgotha out of their way. Even Mr. Warrantel and the perky secretary fled the scene. Only Bradley stayed behind to gape. Watching as the small stream of blood wet the soles of Golgotha's black, knee-length, boots.
CHAPTER TWO
"I am so, so sorry you had to see that. And especially on your first day. Would you like to go home, Golgotha? You can if you need to. What about you Brad? Are you alright?" a different, much less joyous secretary asked. Golgotha could actually stand to be near this one, relieved that the other had gone home in a pool of runny mascara and washed out eyeshadow. She feared that if she stayed around for too long, people might get suspicious.
"Is he okay?! Is he in the hospital?! What happened?!" Bradley cried. He was utterly lost. First he saw the matching photo of death and Golgotha and now a kid had cracked his skull open. It all seemed to sinister, like a bad dream. What if Golgotha was death? What if he was next? The probability that something was about to go wrong for him was immense. And what would his family do if Golgotha killed him? He was the only air to the Coop throne. Bradley had a bad feeling brewing deep inside his soul, a feeling that bubbled with intensity and fear.
"Cooper is just fine. He's in surgery right now and the doctors are fixing his skull." the normal secretary said. She spoke with the calmness of someone who had seen death before and understood it. In fact, Miss Perumal was a retired medical examiner and an extremely pragmatic individual. She'd lost her own son in a car crash and her husband had been mugged and shot. Needless to say, death seemed to eagerly follow Miss Perumal through her life.
"O-okay... I'll stay here. I have to go to a scrimmage game tonight anyway." Bradley sighed, leaning back in the cushy office chair. Perumal nodded darkly and turned to Golgotha. She was staring, in a very confused manor, at a phone.
"I'm fine as well. My parents are nurses and work all day and night. They almost never come home, not even on holidays. I support my younger sister and I live at 1187 Chortle Avenue. My best friends are my sister, Helena April Mournsing, and my significant other, Gunter Missin Ross." Golgotha said in an emotionless and nearly robotic fashion. Bradley shifted uneasily in his seat. Giant, metal, butterflies were attacking his stomach at this point.
