A White One
The School
It is said that if one seeks enlightenment, one receives partial redemption for just attempting to seek salvation. This One agrees with that philosophy. This One travel’s to the ruins of an old building that was known as a “school” when it was in working order. It is said that children of all ages would go to this school and be taught by others who have mastered the material. This One assumes that a guide of some sort would be hidden in the remains of that school. The closest one to where This One resides, was deemed “Langley High School – Home of the Saxons”. This One is not sure what a “Saxon” is, but is perfectly content with thinking that it is some other word for “learning” or “taught ones”. It is the only logical solution.
When This One reached the ruins that was the School of Langley, gazing at it with awe, was all the lonely Shadow could muster. All that was left of the petty building was a staircase, connecting what was left of the bottom floor, to the top. As This One gazed on, a door was at the far end of the last corridor on the top floor. This One found it possessed a sort of majestic presence, because though it appeared to be positioned firmly, and without sway, it was barely connected to the rest of the destroyed complex.
This One skimmed the rubble on the parched ground and found the bottom of the winding staircases. While This One glided up the stairway, which was coated in centuries of decay and worn material, the absorbed Shadow never took the pair of mesmerized eyes off the one door at the end of the last hall. Upon reaching the top of the flight of stairs, This One continued in what could only be described as a rushing Shadow, for a Shadow is only capable at traveling at a constant slow pace. As the door neared, This One struggled for the first time sense the dawn of Shadow existence to quicken the pace at which This One was traveling.
At last the door was reached.
When This One reached the ruins that was the School of Langley, gazing at it with awe, was all the lonely Shadow could muster. All that was left of the petty building was a staircase, connecting what was left of the bottom floor, to the top. As This One gazed on, a door was at the far end of the last corridor on the top floor. This One found it possessed a sort of majestic presence, because though it appeared to be positioned firmly, and without sway, it was barely connected to the rest of the destroyed complex.
This One skimmed the rubble on the parched ground and found the bottom of the winding staircases. While This One glided up the stairway, which was coated in centuries of decay and worn material, the absorbed Shadow never took the pair of mesmerized eyes off the one door at the end of the last hall. Upon reaching the top of the flight of stairs, This One continued in what could only be described as a rushing Shadow, for a Shadow is only capable at traveling at a constant slow pace. As the door neared, This One struggled for the first time sense the dawn of Shadow existence to quicken the pace at which This One was traveling.
At last the door was reached.