Graduation

Knees, bloody knees of faithful worshipers worshiping false idols. Amongst those grounded upon their knees, only one stood. A tall man adorning the mantle of pastor, wearing an outfit befitting the position, colored in nothing but white. The tall man’s hands were clasped together in a prayer, eyes closed, same amongst those kneeling. A mass of people in solemn prayer, their eyes closed, mouths in slight smiles or neutral positions, nonetheless a placid scene. Wood painted white, sections of stained glass depicting ancient saviors and saints, the main images and materials of the church’s identity and history. Amongst the middle of the mass worship kneeled a white cloaked individual. His eyes were incredibly tired of being shut, it didn’t help that his knees pained greatly, red blotches of built up blood had swelled in the kneecaps, causing him immense discomfort. He would lie to save face, say nothing but wear a smirk, if not, he would complain in great magnitude of the archaic nature of the ritual. The tall man mumbled something the cloaked one couldn’t make out. To him, the scenery, in all, was filled with complacent dolls, indeed perfect and pure in rejection of sin, he thought momentarily, continuing with his thoughts of prayer. He did not pray for reincarnation, the happiness in a different life, nor did he wish for the elegant release of such chains. Happiness would be found in his life, and in the life of others. His happiness would not be sought amongst the clouds or in different lives, but in the happiness of those around him, the liberation of self and all, all and self; That was the tune of his prayer. Considering his background though, it may have been quite hypocritical. Nonetheless, “Hell is others, heaven is each other” is the mantra he kept close as akin to a doll. The tall preacher ended his prayer and spoke on his elevated platform, ending the prayers of the masses below him. All of them were standing now, attentive and focused on the tall figure that stood above them.

“Your prayers have been heard by our graceful lord. Any grievances and struggles thou may face will be swept away by great fortune and prosperity through endurance and faith. That is our great faith, in the graceful lord, one which the many of you have studied greatly and diligently. We have been graced today with the most brilliant of people this institution has cultivated.”

The pastor paused, reaching out under the podium he occupied, pulling out a large book. He flipped through it quickly, the flapping of the pages, the smacking of each clump of paper giving a satisfying noise to the ears of the one directly in the middle.

“Brother Michael of class 402 has distinguished himself as a great speaker and converter among those who are unfaithful and sinful. His greatest achievement is that of his travels to Paris, spreading the morals of god, humility, virtue, and harboring the high ranking members of our French section in an escape from the atheistic regime that has taken over France in the godless revolution. He is to graduate from the academy and be honored with the title of Intermediate Priest.”

The mass is swept with the physical fixation of applause, congratulating Michael for his stated contributions. Pastor Alfred motioned Michael to take up the stage behind him, which Michael does with a large, perhaps uncomfortable smile, making his way through the congregation. Now with Michael behind the pastor, he continues reading off his stale and predictable script.

“Sister Sue of class 401 has distinguished herself through her social work-”

The pastor continued but it was now of little interest to the one in the middle, the words would simply pass, and no thought was to be given upon them. Why should he be bothered with the recognition of others? A sister would be congratulated for social, medical, marriage, funeral work, and a brother would most likely be honored for his speeches, guidance, leadership and ritual work. To him it felt dull and predictable, a veil of acceptability of predestined roles and occupations, similar to his past, and he wanted anything but his past. The slog of a voice that the pastor possessed made him exponentially more drowsy and unaware as the pastor went on from one graduate to another. The voice was old and rough, struggling against itself, like that of the flesh it attached itself to, rotten and falling apart. He knowingly smirked, wondering how so that the most divine of their congregation, the most powerful among the people, were, in flesh, the most deathly and sickly. In mind as well, he knew for such that their divinity was merely something to be said and not something belonging to any of them, his studies proved such a thesis.

“Brother Basil, will you please take the stage…”

The pastor scolded, breaking Basil’s chariot of thought. The crowd looked at him weirdly, it is hard to describe exactly the content of how it was weird, it was sort of like arguing for something hysterical among people who seek no delusions, and thus their eyes peer into yours with an odd intent, laced in judgement. Their eyes perked up and were more round than usual. Nonetheless Basil was now slightly embarrassed at not noticing himself being called upon the first time, he quietly and quickly, with little ceremony from the mass, stood on the stage with his fellow graduates. Basil did not hear what the pastor said about him, thus not knowing what occupation he was granted. There wasn’t much concern though, he would just ask someone for the details. With that the graduation ceremony for class 1793 of Boski Academy ended, Basil scurried swiftly to his study. He wanted no part in the celebratory nor sentimentalisms of graduation, he cared little for such arbitrary and noisy distractions, because of course, he had much more interesting matters at hand… Nonetheless, Basil still wanted to know what divine occupation he was oh so blessed with, so he quickly went towards a random pastor wandering the halls of the academy.

“Hey, pastor fella, you were at the graduation right?”

All pastors were forced to be at the graduation ceremony whether they wanted to be part of such or not. They would be tortured and or executed otherwise, something Basil knew quite well.

The pastor’s back was turned, revealing, to Basil’s surprise, to be Pastor Stein, a medical teacher of his and a close research collaborator when Basil was an assistant of his. Stein’s pure, unbrushed and lengthy white hair collapsed alongside his pale face, his eyes brown with freckles of gold surrounding the iris. Basil was always so captivated by his eyes, he thought they were gorgeous, pure, and beautiful. He was jealous about another man’s eyes and he fucking hated it, if it weren’t so painful and frowned upon perhaps… Well, let us not get into such unsavory details shall we?

“Basil the midget, well isn’t it a surprise seeing you here! I thought you would have been celebrating with your other classmates, what brings you here in my presence?”

“I’m not a fucking midget, I’m average height ya prick.”

Stein chuckled heartily. To him Basil was rather small in stature, he was around 6 and a half feet tall while Basil could barely call himself five feet and a half. Average but very close to below average, a label Basil despised whenever it referred to anything he was or has done.

“I was sleeping through that boring fuckers speech during the graduation, you know that pastor with that decrepit old voice that barely sounds fucking functional, I forgot his name but-”

“Pastor Alfred-”

“Yea that’s his fucking name, anyhow I don’t actually know what position I was granted so I’m asking you now since I bumped into your lanky ass.”

“Well perhaps if you’d keep that tongue from speaking another swear I may bestow thou with the information you require. I swear you always have to curse whenever you speak, relax a bit, take it slow and chill out.”

“Okay??? I don’t care, just tell me so I can go to fuc-... To sleep.”

“That’s better. Well some good news and bad news. Basil, you’ve been honored with the title and position of Academic Professor amongst not only this academy but all of the rest. Same rank as me even though I’m 20 years your senior… Your eyes show annoyance easily young lad! You haven’t been positioned in any professorial or research roles as of yet, so worry not.”

Basil rolled their eyes semi-dramatically, granting Stein a good and audible chuckle.

“Now that was the good news, bad news is you are now officially a Third Class Mage, isn’t that so exciting! Quite the accomplishment I may say, only about 150 people have ever gotten such a rank in the Church’s entire history! ”

Stein laced his words with a sarcastic filter, hoping to come off as remotely humorous to the now, very obviously, pissed off midget in front of him. Basil’s face turned to his usual pasty white to a sickly, and very light blue as if he was sick by just hearing the fact that, yes, indeed, he was officially a Mage.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Not at all. I’m very well acquainted with your concerns Basil, I already know that you can’t use magic to save your own life.”

“Not funny, I might actually fucking die you dick head!:

“Only if you get deployed, which definitely won’t happen with all the wars, civil conflicts and revolutions happening as of late. Also, didn’t I say not to curse so much? You really need to-”

Stein’s words were mute to Basil as he was fuming internally in furious anger, red and bloody palette coursed through his stressed body, his pale sickly skin more so turning into some hue of red. Stein had a very annoying habit of taking little to nothing seriously, which was not to Basil’s interest as of this current instance. Basil sickened face contorted into an increasingly tense look as he scurried away during Stein's lecturing without him noticing, he seemed to be too self-absorbed in his own words. Basil was incapable of conjuring any sort of spell, incantation, or any sort of manifestation of mana this rotten world could never offer to him. Obviously it was considered incredibly unusual for anyone in this magic-fueled world to not even be able to conjure the most elementary of spells; now he was a Mage, this must have been punishment for his specific interests of study, or perhaps a sick joke by the administrators and higher powers… God, this had their grubby tentacles all over it, at least that’s what Basil thought. He was fine though, well actually not really, not at all, but he would make it fine, he always made things fine. He collapsed onto a mattress situated in the corner of his secluded study, taking a much needed nap to get his head on straight.

“In other words, I really think some sort of language management course is in place and it would do wonders for your formal language development!”

Stein finished monologuing to a now absent basil, stressing the importance of formal language, being kind with words and considerate of others preferences in vocabulary. During all of that he, yes not even once, opened his eyes to clearly see that the only person attending his lecture, Basil, was now gone. He stood there absolutely befuddled as to how he allowed that to even happen, gaining second hand embarrassment quickly thereafter as he realized that people saw what he was doing. Scurrying away, with blood red invading his white face from such an embarrassing blunder on his part.

“What an insolent little bagpipe that blight of our church is. Good for spewing equations and knowledge and nothing else, a useless disciple of our gracious lord.”

Stein mumbled in a hushed and snarled tone. He quickly calmed himself, reassuring that, even if Basil was annoying, selfish, an ass, narcissistic and a prick, it didn’t really matter in the end.

Basil will change.

Basil will become a better version of himself.

Basil will become useful and improve the lives of everyone.

Basil’s heart, pure solely in black ink, will be saved.

Tomorrow Basil would change his ways in life.

He will redeem himself.

In short…

He will die.