Transylvania Academy: What It Takes To Be a Monster

THE STALE colors of her ceiling welcomed her when she woke up briskly. Her ragged breathing and sweat-covered shin were not new for Cent. She spent her seventeenth year dreaming as if she was being chased by something ominous, only to wake up abruptly when a pair of large flaming hands engulfed her. This vicious cycle became a regular thing for her when she celebrated her seventeenth birthday. And now, with her eighteenth birthday just two days from today, her nightmare became more prolonged and hotter, as if she was soaked and boiled. Glancing at the alarm clock on her side table, Cent groaned when she found out it was still three AM. Like always, she would wake up every three AM from that hellish dream. Sitting up, Cent fisted her long raven-colored hair. “Fucking perfect,” mumbled Cent. Her day would always start like this. Waking up from some weird psychotic dream, she would spend the remaining hours of dawn doing yoga as she listened to the soft tune of Mozart’s piece through he

CENT REALIZED that if anyone looked at her lime-colored eyes, that person would die. It was as if death would come knocking on that person's door. Since she could not control that ability, she chose to obstruct her eyes from anyone. Thus, her hideous bangs came into being. Loud knocks snapped Cent out of her reverie. "Milly? Are you alright, dear?" It was Sister Tasha. She was pretty worried about Cent's behavior since the latter stopped attending classes and was now planning to skip her birthday. Though tiny, Sister Tasha prepared a personally baked Chiffon cake for Cent, the celebrant's favorite. Cent walked away from her window, but she did not open the door for Sister Tasha. Instead, she walked near the door. "Leave me alone, please." I don't want to hurt you too. "All the more reason for me to stay, dear. Open the door, please." Sister Tasha became her guardian when she was abandoned by her real parents. The thought that maybe, her parents were looking for her was wishful thi

“THEN WHY? Why appear now? Why abandon me? Did I do something wrong? Why?” Cent’s voice cracked as she stared at the man. The latter was staring at her as if she was a puzzle that needed solving. “Can you stand?” Instead, his reply earned him a confused response from Cent, who was on the verge of breaking down. “Huh?” “Can you stand?” He asked her again with an even tone that would be mistaken as a dull tone or as if he was bored. Cent reluctantly nodded her head, wondering what he would do. But as soon as she moved her head, his enormous left wing swept her as the infernal flames engulfed them. “What the heck!” Cent widened her eyes as she saw how the fire did not hurt her or how they were transported to the dining room after she blinked. I doubted again if I was in a dream or a dream within a dream. Being cradled by a gigantic wing was one thing, but being treated gently as if he cared for her like a father would make Cent teary-eyed again. “I will tell you everything, but fi

“YOU WILL visit me, right, Dad?” Cent looked at her father with wariness evident in her eyes. Her eyes flashed from her usual black to the green-colored ones as they stood in front of the haunted-looking gates of the Malevolent Dorm. The fear of being abandoned again lingered in her chaotic mind. Thousands of scenes were played should her father decide to leave her if she proved worthless. Patting her head, the Grand Duke eased his daughter’s anxiety. “Of course. I will visit you every week. You will know when I am back, that I promise you. And since I can’t leave you my shadow according to the school’s law, at least I can leave you a gift.” Gukasho opened his mouth. The Grand Duke inserted his entire arm into its mouth as if he was just getting something from it. The goblin expanded his mouth like it was natural for him to do. The entire scene froze Cent. Dude, why am I getting surprised? I am a living half-demon. A goblin turning his mouth into my father’s pouch is no biggie, y

WITCHES riding on their broomsticks, zombies picking up their eyes amidst the crowded hallway, horned beings, ethereal beings that made it seem as if they had halos above their heads for fuck knows why reasons, and floating beings that screamed supernatural – the flock of black butterflies passed by the chaotic scene of the hallway as Cent secretly thanked her ability for the first time. That is like the Transylvania Academy version of Nether World, aka Hell, aka again, the Malevolent World. Cent scanned all the gigantic wooden doors to see if it was the History of Demonic Arts, which her father made sure to be taken by her. Apparently, the one who would give the lecture would be a demon lord named Asmodeus the Lustful. Three corners and six doors, a titan-like door with the crest of ‘History of Demonic Arts’ written on it with the flashing fire that read ‘Asmodeus the Lustful’. Thanked fuck! Concentrating on a single image of a black butterfly, the flock of butterflies turned int