My Almamater, My Training Ground.

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• My Almamater, My Training Ground   How It All Began

  It was a pretty cool morning in April.In an upscale apartment in the nicer parts of the city, a woman bussled around in her home, making breakfast for her family. Her husband, Mr James was getting dressed for the day while her 11-year-old daughter Bliss, was still asleep. Bliss was the second child of her parents, her elder brother, Bradley, was in high school already."Get up Bliss, it's morning"Mrs Vera entered her daughter's room, lightly shaking her as she murmured."Can I sleep a while longer?"Bliss intended to get herself a few extra minutes for sleeping but her mother seemed to have read her mind"You can, if you intended to not sit for you exams."She groaned, wanting to turn around and continue sleeping when the words stuckBliss jumped up, running into the bathroom. Just before she shut the door she remembered'Good morning Mom'She didn't wait for a reply as she jumped into the bathroom. Speedily picking

• My Almamater, My Training Ground   Prologue

  It was a hot afternoon, most students were in the dining hall. The SS3 students could be seen milling around in crazy dress styles. Some all packed and waiting for their rides, some had left and the rest packed, carried or said their final goodbyes to their juniors, teachers and friends. Some flew their shirts, some unbuttoned theirs, some had long pulled off their ties looking like ruffians and like every year, the teachers would turn their eyes away pretending to be blind.Yes, on a day like this every year a batch of SS3s' would say goodbye to this institute where they had spent 6 years of their lives.Looking at this young adults, each filled with the joy and sadness of leaving a place they've come to view as home.Bliss, sat on her bed, her hands dexterously folding up her cloths, she, like most of her mates, had given out most of her belongings to her juniors. Her uniforms, daywears, sports outfits and a few other articles of clothing had all been

• My Almamater, My Training Ground   My Almamater, My Training Ground.

  Welcome to My Almamater, My Training GroundI am glad you chose to click on this story.This is an unedited work so you could call my attention to any grammatical error you notice in the course of your perusal.We also welcome your thoughts on plots and scenes which you believe will make this book better.Copyright©Rhe_joyceAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, media transfer, or otherwise, without the prior permission from the author.©starifonia@gmail.comYou could contact me on social media @rhe_joyceon the gram.