Education Transendia.

A story of learning to see clearly in a clouded, corrupted world.

“Where have all the young men gone? Off to these infamous establishments where they practise the art of debating.”

From “The Frogs” by Aristophanes, Penguin edition, translation by David Barrett.

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Sunlight lay on the table in little rows like Cocaine at a dinner party. Sally stared at the rays of light, unable to look up. She felt tired, she felt bruised, she felt like she hadn’t slept for a week. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but was struggling even harder to listen to that voice, the dull voice of that man talking to her, her body slumped in the chair like a dishevelled jacket.

“You’ll be starting tomorrow at The Academy” he said, his thumbs twitching, “How do you feel?”

There was a noticeable pause as she listened to the sound of people walking down the corridor and the clock ticking.

“I don’t know.” She replied after what felt like a mutual eternity, her hands palm up, not moving in her lap. Silence. There was an awkward pause as he seemed to twiddle his fingers.

“Do you understand why you’re here?” he asked. She sensed that he was smiling.

She shook her head with much effort because her neck seemed to have frozen.

“I didn’t think you would.” He replied honestly, “but hopefully it should all become clear to you soon. You were in an accident. Thankfully nothing serious happened, but that’s why everything hurts at the moment. Your parents…thought it was best that you started here as soon as possible. They thought that as you’re not seriously injured that you ought to start here sooner rather than later – it would help you fit in. We’re able to help you adapt in the meantime.”

Sally looked up. “When?” she asked.

“Soon. Once you’ve settled in we’ll invite them.” The man said. Sally didn’t believe him. There was a creak as he lent forward, out of the leather chair and looking her straight on the forehead he said. “My name is Mr Flagge, but everybody here calls me Nathan. I’d like you to call me Nathan.”

Sally said nothing. The fingers on her left hand curled slightly. She watched them intently. The wind moved the blinds, clattering against the glass, lines of sun swinging from side to side from the tight lattice that kept them together. Her eyes moved up to meet Mr Flagge’s. With the slightly tilt of her head she said, “Mr Flagge……….” She stopped. She thought for an entire two seconds, time speeding past and whispered, “I hope they’ll understand...”

Mr Flagge smiled. Sally pulled at the thin, grey surgical gown she wore, greasy brown hair flopping over her face.

She was lead out of the office by Mr Flagge down a long white hall, him dressed in a pinstripe suit and Italian loafers, her dressed in the grubby gown, her cold feet bright red from walking barefoot on the sterile white floor. Her feet pattered on the stone tiles like the first leaves of autumn, Mr Flagge leading her down the corridor after corridor, her following like a lost sheep. Finally they stopped outside of room 246

Mr Flagge felt around in his pocket, and pulled out a silver key on a long chain. He put it in the lock, opened it with an echoy click, and pushed the door open so that she could go inside. Hesitantly at first she walked in, in front of him. As she surveyed the room he slipped the chain around her neck, the key falling down the gown and in between her breasts.

“If you need anything, “ he said, “just dial for help on the phone.” As he left, she didn’t turn around. She stood in awe and head up, staring in front of her, she closed the door behind her.

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This is the first chapter. I promise there will be more acyion later, but please, if you’ve read this, just let me know if the start is too random, or if it is suspenseful enough.

Thanks for reading.

Xandra the Blue.