Ms. Ashling watched her students stare blankly at their computer screens. She had given her freshman composition class an assignment in which they were to write about an important event in their life. She could see, however, that most of them had little, if any, idea what to write about. She thought to herself for a moment, and then glanced at the beautiful mural that adorned the wall of the school’s library. A smile crept across Ms. Ashling’s face, as she had an idea with which she could inspire her students.
“Ok, class, I see that most of you are having some trouble deciding what to write about,” she looked them over, making sure she had their attention, “so I’m going to tell you a little story; an important event that happened in my own life. How many of you know the story of that mural?” she asked, pointing towards the artwork upon the wall. When none of the student raised their hands, she felt her heart drop a little, and then said, “Well then, I guess I should fix that! I told you at the beginning of the year that I attended this very high school, but I didn’t tell you that I knew the person who painted that mural. In fact, we were in the same year, and I was present when the tragedy that mural commemorates happened.”
“Tragedy?” piped up one of the more soft spoken girls, “I never knew about a tragedy happening here.”
“Oh yes, Melissa, it was a horrible day, but it changed the course of my life, and the life of my closest friends, for the better, I think.”
“Ms. Ashling?” the class clown, Caleb, asked innocently, “Does this mean we’re going to have to write about a serious event in our lives?”
“Oh no, you won’t have to do that if you don’t want to, though those topics tend to be the most interesting to read, and easiest to write. Please don’t think that my story is an example of what you have to write. I just want to give you an idea of what you could write about, while also telling you a little story from this school’s past. If you don’t want to write about something as serious as this, please don’t force yourself too. Now, do we have any more questions before I begin? It is a bit of a long story.” She listened carefully, and watched for signs of other questions. None came, so she sat down and motioned for her students to come sit around her. “As I said, this story is a long one, so if we run past the bell a little bit, I’ll make sure to write you all passes to your next class. Now, everyone get comfortable. Mandy, Liz, enough chit chat,” the girls in the back that had been whispering snapped to attention, forgetting that Ms. Ashling had the uncanny ability to hear them whispering, “Now then, I’ll begin the story with-”
“What’s going on over here, if I may ask, Ms. Ashling?” the librarian had wandered over, with a surly look on her aged face and her hands placed firmly on her hips.
“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Applegate, I was just about to tell my students the story of the library’s mural to give them a little inspiration for their assignment.” Ms. Ashling smiled politely as the surly look on Mrs. Applegate’s face shifted to a look of guilt, and then to a look of sympathy, “Oh my, I haven’t thought about that in such a long while, I hope you don’t mind if I have a seat and listen.”
“Of course not, ma’am, you’re in the story, I couldn’t refuse you that if I wanted to.” The students looked around at each other, having forgotten that Mrs. Applegate had been the school’s librarian for several decades. Ms. Ashling grinned mischievously, quickly running over the events she planned to describe in her head, and then settled in to begin her story.
“Pardon me, Ms. Ashling, but what might you be up to in this little powwow?” The school’s other long time resident, Mr. Hester, the art teacher, happened to have wandered through the library and saw the cluster. Mrs. Applegate whispered something to him and pointed at the mural. With a surprised, yet sympathetic look not unlike Mrs. Applegate’s, Mr. Hester sat down and nodded with approval to Ms. Ashling. She winked at him, and then turned back to her students.
“Now, before I begin the actual story, I have to lay out some basic information. This event occurred eleven years ago, in the second half of my sophomore year. The person who painted the mural was a friend of mine named Andrew — Andy to us. He was the smart, quiet type. He had little issue maintaining good grades, but his ability to socialize was rather… lacking. The only people he spoke to outside of his teachers were me and our junior friends Danielle, Jason, and Mark, all of whom were present for this event as well. Danielle was an energetic big-sister-to-everyone type of person, and she was pretty good looking too, so over all, it was hard not to like her. Jason, Danielle’s boyfriend, was the school’s resident genius. He wasn’t a stereotypical “nerd”, as we called them back then, as he was very athletic. Mark, Jason’s best friend, was his counterpart; where Jason was the school’s resident brain, Mark was the resident badass. He wasn’t as smart as Jason, but was much more athletic. He was kind of a jerk jock with a heart of gold. Those three managed to break Andy out of his introverted shell by the end of their senior year, but it took a lot of work on their end…” Ms. Ashling paused and laughed, remembering the chaos of her junior year.
“Wait, Ms. Ashling,” Jack, the freshman football star, interrupted, “Do you mean Jason Sanders and Mark Windsor? The Legendary Duo who lead our football team to state victory four years in a row and then mysteriously vanished before graduation?”
Ms. Ashling grinned at him, “The very same, Jack.” A look of awe and wonder covered his face, as well as the faces of the other athletes in her class. “They were, and still are, very good friends of mine.”
“So you know what happened to them!?”
“I do, but that’s a story for another day, Jack.”
Jack sat back with a defeated look on his face, obviously disappointed that he wouldn’t get to learn the answer to one of the school’s greatest mysteries.
“Now then,” Ms. Ashling continued, “on to the story!”
I had a weird feeling as I approached the school that day. We were scheduled to go on a big field trip to a relatively close American History Museum, and the three buses that were to take us sat in front of the school, looking empty and somehow frail. I was nervous. I didn’t know why then, I just had a bad feeling about the trip. The thunder clouds that were slowly rolling over us didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.
As I got around the buses, I saw a small crowd of people gathering. I knew most of them by name, but wasn’t well acquainted with them. I was pretty shy myself back then. I sat down next to Andy and bade him good morning. He nodded, still looking rather sleepy, and laid down next to me. I laughed and poked him, telling him he could sleep on the bus.
“Sleep on the bus when I’m sitting next to you? That’s not likely” he gave me an irritated smile that I knew to be a harmless sign of affection.
“Well, you have a point there,” I laughed again, “I am a bit of an early bird.”
“Early bird? You’re a freaking Morning Glory, girl!” a voice from behind me chided. I turned to see Danielle standing there and smirking at me as she held a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you pass American History last year?” I retorted.
“Of course, but Jason’s going because he’s president of the History Club, and he’s dragging Mark and I along with him.”
“Ah, that’s Jason for you. Where are those two now anyway?”
“They’re helping Mr. Gyles load the food onto the buses. Jason only got to bring us because he promised to make Mark work as muscle, and make me act as a chaperone.”
“You? A chaperone?” Andy snickered, “Oh boy, we’re in for it now…”
Danielle jumped forward and landed on top of Andy with a “thud”, causing him to grunt as she sat on his chest. “What was that? Disrespecting your elders, Andy?”
“Can’t… breathe…”
“I can’t hear you…”
Andy was struggling to get free as Mark walked over and yanked him out from under Danielle. Jason laughed at the whole scene, as Danielle innocently sipped her coffee. Andy grumbled, but I patted him on the head, and he stopped to glare at me.
“Alright folks” Mr. Gyles, my history teacher, yelled out, “time to load up. We best be on these buses before it starts to rain.”
Thus, four American History classes filed onto two crowded buses. The third bus was for the extra chaperones and overflow from the first two buses. Andy and I were on that bus, with Mark, Danielle, Jason, and several teachers. Looking around, I saw Mr. Gyles, Mr. Hester, Mr. Hunt, one of the Phys. Ed. teachers, Ms. Florence, my Biology teacher from the year before, Mr. Jacobson, the other History Teacher, Mrs. Point, a Math teacher, Ms. Axel, the Physics teacher, and Mr. Valence, my English teacher, and one of my favorite people ever. Somehow, though, the uneasy feeling I had when I arrived at school was growing worse as time went on, rather than going away.
The sky had turned black as the rain finally started. I had become so engrossed in the feeling of unease that I jumped at the first thunderclap, causing my friends to laugh and comfort me as I said I was ok. I tried to hide my wariness as we left the school, and I chatted quietly with them. The ride out of town was fairly uneventful; the older three were familiar with all the teachers on the bus, so everyone riding became engrossed in conversation. I don’t remember everything we spoke about, but I do recall something about the buoyancy of ducks, and also a deep philosophical discussion about peanut butter. The storm outside was getting progressively worse, but it wasn’t so bad that we couldn’t keep going. Andy had even managed to fall asleep next to me, and was leaning his head on my shoulder as I watched the rain through my window.
“You two couldn’t be less alike,” Jason laughed from the seat next to us, “but I guess that explains why you’re such good friends. Opposites attract, as they say.” He looked at Mark and grinned.
“You know it, buddy,” Mark replied.
I laughed and smiled at them knowingly.
“Are you alright back here? You got kind of quiet.” Mr. Valence had come down the aisle to us and was now in the seat in front of my own. I blushed and tried to hide it. I had a huge crush on him at the time, and was thoroughly embarrassed at the situation he saw. “Ah, young love, ‘tis such a sweet and romantic thing.”
Danielle almost fell out of her seat laughing, “Those two? In love? You’ve got a better chance of Jason leaving me for Mark, Mr. V.”
Mr. Valence put on a looked stricken, “Danielle! I’m hurt! You doubt my ability to judge love when I see it?”
“I have to side with Danielle on this one, V,” Mark chuckled, “besides, I don’t think Andy’s the one who’s caught her eye.” he grinned at me, and I glared back, blushing more.
“A romantic you may be, Mr. Valence, but a matchmaker you are not.” Jason added, with an ounce of sarcasm.
Mr. Valence grimaced at him, “Et tu, Jason?” We all gave him this look that anyone who ever had Mr. Valence can still make. It was a combination of exasperation, glaring, and a strong attempt to stifle laughter. He loved to make cheesy puns out of quotes from famous stories, and while it’s impressive on the first day of class, after a few weeks everyone gets tired of it, but they never ceased to be funny.
Andy sat up as we started across the bridge that marked the second half of our journey. He looked at me groggily and asked if we were there yet. I shook my head and told him half way. He grumbled and stared out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and if we weren’t already on the bridge, we probably would have pulled over and waited for it to let up some. As it was though, we were already a third of the way across the bridge, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic, so we decided to get across first. Big mistake.
At the last rest stop, several of the teachers had shifted to the front two buses to help control the students who were giving the bus drivers issues. Mr. Gyles, Mr. Hester, Mr. Jacobson, and Ms. Axel had all left the bus. The bus seemed almost empty now, with four people gone. Little did any of us know that the shift in positions would greatly affect the outcome of what was about to transpire.
The rain came down even harder as we got half way across the bridge. The bus drivers could barely see fifteen feet in front of them, and the sound of the rain made it almost impossible to hear anything on the radio. I sank back into my seat, feeling the same chill from earlier run down my spine again. I looked at Danielle and Jason. They both seemed just as uneasy as I was. Mark seemed unperturbed, but nothing really ever shook him. Mr. Valence turned and gave me a look of reassurance and put his hand on my shoulder.
“It’s just a little water, nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be-”
In the next split second, the sound of tires squealing and metal grinding against metal filled our ears. The first bus had swerved and was now motionless across the road. The second bus had collided with the very end of the first as the driver was frantically braking, angling the first bus and coming to a dead stop between it and the side rail of the bridge. Then our bus hit the end of the second bus, at nearly full speed. Our driver hadn’t had the reaction time to break between the first bus swerving and us hitting the second. There was a loud crunch as we hit the other bus, and I heard glass shatter. Then, we weren’t flat on the ground. Somehow, the momentum of the bus, combined with the slickness of the road due to the rain caused the bus to arc upward at the impact. We were nearly vertical within another split second. I looked at Mr. Valence, and then to my friends, and we all shared a look of shock, which transitioned to horror as the bus began to tilt to the side and over the railing of the bridge
Slowly, I came too. I realized that I was lying on my back, against the window, as the bus lay tilted somewhat on its side in the river below the bridge. Water was slowly seeping in through the broken windshield, but it was at the bottom, so there was an air pocket near the back end, where we had all ended up. I was dazed and my shoulder as a little sore, but otherwise I was unharmed. Andy was on top of me, in a similar state of confusion.
“Are you ok?” I managed to groan. He grunted in response, which I took as an “I’ve been better.” I stumbled to my feet, and sat on the edge of the seat in front of me. I looked around. Mark was unconscious in the seat behind mine. Danielle was supporting a rather battered looking Jason, and gave me a concerned look. I turned to check on the teachers, and saw Mr. Valence helping Mrs. Point up, and Ms. Florence and the bus driver tending to an unconscious Mr. Hunt.
“What happened?” Jason muttered, rubbing his head.
“Bad driving, bad weather, bad decisions, and physics,” Mr. Valence grumbled in response, “Thankfully, we were the only bus that went over the bridge.”
“Over the bridge!?” Andy snapped to attention, “So that means that we’re….” he stopped, and his face paled.
The bus driver said poignantly, “I hope you kids can swim.” to which Ms. Florence shot him a nasty look, “It’s the truth, ma’am. I can get the emergency doors open, but we’re underwater, so we’ll have to get away from the bus somehow.”
“Let’s assess injury first, we don’t have a lot of time,” Mr. Valence commented, somehow keeping his relaxed demeanor, “Danielle, how does everyone look over there?”
“Jason’s pretty beat up, it looks like he has a few broken ribs, and Mark’s out for the count,” Danielle said, pausing as she looked at me,
“Andy and I are a little shaken up, but we’re ok otherwise.” I said nervously.
“Alright,” Mr. Valence nodded, “how about over here?”
“I’m not sure I can walk,” Mrs. Point said through gritted teeth as she held her leg, “I think it’s broken.”
“Pete’s out too,” Ms. Florence added, in reference to Mr. Hunt, “Seems like he hit his head pretty hard. As for myself, I’m a little bruised, but otherwise ok.”
“I’ve seen better days, but this is nothing compared to Nam,” the bus driver said plainly, “however, overall, we’re not in a great situation.”
“Aside from Mark and Pete, is there anyone here who cannot swim?” Mr. Valence asked, Jason and Mrs. Point both raised their hands, “Due to injury or inability?” Mr. Valence added.
“Injury” Jason coughed, holding his ribs, “definitely have three broken ribs, and I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s out of its socket.”
“Same for me,” Mrs. Point answered, “There’s no way I can swim with my leg like this.”
Mr. Valence stood quietly for a moment, thinking. “Ok, Danielle, you help Jason. Lisa, you help Vicky, I’ll get Pete.” he pointed at Andy and myself, “You two help each other ok?”, we nodded, and he turned to the bus driver, “Bert, you come get Mark.”
“Roger that, cap’n.” Bert barked, and then he climbed his way over, past us, and pulled Mark up on his shoulder. “Now, we’ve got three easy ways out; the broken windshield, the top hatch, or the back door. If we take the first, we risk getting torn up on the glass, and not getting to the surface for air,”
“But if we take either of the latter,” Ms. Florence continued, “The pressure will cause the water to rush in and would make it difficult to get out at all. We can’t take the top hatch anyway, there’s no way we could get Pete or Mark through it unconscious; they’re too bulky.”
We all seemed to be lost in thought, as the bus shifted slightly and scraped against the rocks it was wedged between. Scrambling to retain my balance, I looked down and saw something we had forgotten. Beneath my feet was an emergency exit window.
“What about this?” I asked, indicating the window.
“Good eye there!” Bert shouted, “I had forgotten about those!”
Mr. Valence looked at it eagerly, “It should be wide enough to get Mark and Pete out, and at this angle, the water would pour in on us, though it will still be pretty fast.” He jumped over the seat I was sitting on, landing above the window, “Andy, help me get this open.” Andy leaned down from his own seat, and they struggled with it against the water. Finally, it popped open, and Mr. Valence pushed the window out with his foot, to check the speed of the water.
“It doesn’t look that fast,” Andy mumbled.
“But it is only March, so it’s icy cold. We’re going to have to swim fast.” Mr. Vance grimaced and looked at our group of battered bus riders.
“Get Mark and Mr. Hunt off first,” Jason grunted, “that way we can send someone extra if they need help getting to the surface.”
“No,” Mrs. Point argued, “You kids should go first, we old folks can wait.”
Mr. Valence shook his head, “As much as I hate to say it, Jason’s got a point. However, Bert and I are very strong swimmers, so I don’t think we need to worry about that. Also, I’m nervous to move Pete just yet, I want to check and make sure his neck isn’t hurt. Bert, you get Mark and go first, alright?”
“Aye aye,” Bert hauled Mark over his shoulder, and with a splash, slid out the window. We watched nervously as he began to pump his arms and swim towards the surface and the edge of the river.
“Lisa, you help Vicky out next,” he motioned to Ms. Florence and Mrs. Point, “and no arguing, Vicky.”
Ms. Florence helped a defeated Mrs. Point over the seat, and out the window, and held her as they swam after Bert. Mr. Valence was checking Mr. Hunt’s neck, as Andy and I helped Jason over the seat. Danielle looked at Mr. Valence, and then at me, and said,
“You two go help him get Mr. Hunt out, and be careful; it doesn’t look like the bus is going to hold here much longer.” She looked out the cracked windshield nervously, and then slipped into the water with Jason. I looked over at Mr. Valence, who was finishing his examination.
“You two go ahead, I can handle things from here.” he muttered, hauling Mr. Hunt over his shoulder, “it doesn’t look like his neck is badly hurt, so I should be able to get him out without any issue.
I shook my head, “No, you go first. We can handle ourselves, but you need to take care of him too. I looked up at Mr. Valence, who was now standing next to me, with each of us on a side of the slowly flooding window.
“Besides, we’re both conscious to help each other if something happens, you should go first. The bus isn’t going to hold here much longer.” Andy argued.
Mr. Valence gave us a defeated shrug, and then put his hand on Andy’s shoulder. He looked as though he were about to apologize, but he swiftly pulled Andy toward him and dropped him out the window. I looked shocked, until he smiled at me and said “Go, he needs your help.” Torn, but knowing what I had to do, I dove out after Andy and helped him right himself in the water. Together, we looked back as we swam, and watched Mr. Valence slip out of the window, holding Mr. Hunt. To our horror, the bus shifted right as he slid out, and hit Mr. Valence square on the back. Bubbles burst out of his mouth, as he struggled to get his head back inside the bus for another breath. He managed to, but now we were both swimming towards him.
I could see the shadows of people swimming above me, two of them, and both faster than either I or Andy could muster. I felt a hand on my back and turned to see Mr. Hester grabbing Andy and myself and motioning towards the surface. Ms. Axel and Mr. Jacobson had dove down now, and were swimming towards Mr. Valence. Mr. Hester gave us a smile and a thumbs up, and then motioned for us to follow again. Reluctantly, we did so. I turned one last time, and saw that Mr. Jacobson now had Mr. Hunt, and Ms. Axel was helping Mr. Valence, and they were all slowly making their way towards us. Relieved, I turned and swam until I got to shore.
Mr. Gyles and Mr. Hester helped pull Andy and myself up onto the beach, and from there, we saw the four heads of our teachers surface. Jason and Mark were lying next to us, and Danielle sitting behind them. Bert was standing with Mr. Gyles, watching the four heading slowly towards us. Ms. Florence and Mrs. Point were sitting near Danielle, breathing heavily.
Bert saw it before the rest of us. He began to frantically wave his arms at the group of teachers in the water, as Mr. Gyles and Mr. Hester snapped to and began to drag myself, Andy, Mark, and Jason further up the bank. Then I saw it; a massive wave of water, barreling down the river. The rain must have caused something to overflow, because the bulk of water was much higher than the river, and moving much faster. Just as Mr. Hester moved to dive into the water, the wave crashed into them. Then they were gone.
The next few weeks were filled somber days and morbid nights. All four teachers the river claimed drowned. Those of us who were on the bus took it harder than the rest, because we had all left them there. Guilt and shame wracked our bodies and aggravation filled our minds. Jason was hospitalized for several weeks because of his ribs and his shoulder, and Mrs. Point was out with a broken leg. Somehow, Mark had managed to escape uninjured, beyond being knocked out by the force of the crash. He seemed especially angry about the outcome. Several students were sent off to the hospital after he thoroughly explained to them why they shouldn’t be “happy because they don’t have homework now”.
Andy had it the worst though. He wasn’t able to cope with how he had been forced off, and he was convinced that it should have been him that was last off the bus. I wasn’t much better, as I had the same mind set, but when I grieve, I tend to bottle everything up and deal with it later, after everyone else has had their chance. It was hard for me to watch everyone suffer like they were, so I forced myself to be the rock for at least one person. That person was Andy. We grew a lot closer during that March and April. Still, I was shocked when I saw what he did on the first month anniversary after the accident.
Andy had mentioned to Mr. Hester that there should be some lasting memorial set up for the four teachers who died. Mr. Hester agreed, but didn’t know what, or how, to do it. Then he had an idea. He told Andy to sketch out something he thought would be fitting, and that he’d have his best art student immortalize it. Andy was shocked, and honored. He went home that night and sketched it out. If Andy had had more self-esteem, he might have realized that Mr. Hester had meant that Andy would be the one creating it, but in his eyes, he was only a mediocre artist. Mr. Hester, meanwhile, approached Mrs. Applegate and asked if he could use the library’s empty wall. Mrs. Applegate, Mr. Valence’s mother-in-law, agreed to the plan.
That Friday, after school, Mr. Hester brought Andy to the library. There he had marked a space on the wall proportional to Andy’s sketch. The school had agreed to buy a good amount of High Quality art supplies for Andy to use. Andy didn’t believe he was Mr. Hester’s best artist, though, and refused to do it, thinking that their surely had to be someone better. Mr. Hester managed to convince him in the end, but it took a great deal of effort.
Thus, Andy started the most inspired work of art in his entire career. He worked on it for an entire month, carefully veiled in secrecy from all but Mr. Hester, Mrs. Applegate, and the School Board. He spent entire weekends in the library, working on the mural. Every day after school, every free moment he had, he was in the library, behind the veiled wall, working.
On Monday, May 13th, 2041, the principal had the school assemble in the library. Andy was standing quietly in front of the veiled wall that had been puzzling us for the last month. I stood with Danielle, Jason, and Mark, who were just as confused as I was, waiting to see the reason we had been brought to the library. The principal, Mr. Hester, and Mrs. Applegate all walked over to Andy, and pushed him forward to speak. The library went silent.
“Two months ago,” Andy started nervously, “tragedy befell our school. We lost four of the most amazing teachers to ever grace these halls. As most of you know, I was on the bus that went over the bridge. In fact, I was one of the last people out. I was forced out against my will by Mr. Valence, because he held his duty to his students higher than the value of his own safety. I’ve been tormented by this fact since that day, and I probably will be for the rest of my life. However, with the approval of Mrs. Applegate, and of our principal, Mrs. Dawson, and with the help of Mr. Hester, I have created what I hope you will find to be something worthy of being the memorial for the four we lost, and a reminder for those yet to come.”
I watched as Mrs. Applegate and Mr. Hester drew back the veil that had covered Andy’s secret work space. My jaw dropped at the beautiful mural painted upon the wall. Mr. Valence and Mr. Hunt stood between Ms. Axel and Mr. Jacobson, all gazing down upon us, with warm, proud smiles on their faces. Behind them, a bus sat on a bridge, and a calm river flowed. The weather in the image was sunny, with only sparse clouds in the sky. Their names had been engraved and then painted beneath them, upon a blue banner. Above them, another blue banner hung, with the silver inscription, “En memorandum.” A green banner hung from the side, held by Mr. Valence, which read in silver, “Carpe Diem.” while Mr. Hunt held a green banner opposite Mr. Valence, which read “Memento Mori.”
“These were two sayings that Mr. Valence told me often. For those who do not know Latin,” Andy commented, “Carpe Diem means ‘Seize the day’ and Memento Mori means ‘Remember your mortality’. These were his two favorite sayings. That is why I chose to include them. That is all I have to say, I hope you all approve.”
Danielle was the first to start clapping, but it quickly spread throughout the crowd of students. The applause was so loud that I thought we might shatter windows. Andy’s face flushed bright red as he tried to hide behind a bookshelf, only to be intercepted by Mr. Hester. High School was a very different experience for Andy after that.
“The end.” Ms. Ashling said softly. She sat quietly, gazing at the mural. Her students were silently transfixed. Mrs. Applegate was sniffling into a tissue, and Mr. Hester was holding back tears of his own. There wasn’t a sound in the room. Ms. Ashling got to her feet and smiled at her class. “I hope I’ve given you some sort of inspiration.” The bell rang. Slowly, the students got to their feet, each lingering as they passed the mural. When the last student left, Ms. Ashling slowly approached it. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“That’s not quite the way I remember it, Andrea,” Mr. Hester chuckled, “but I guess it got the job done.”
“Well, you always have-” Mrs. Applegate sniffled, “had a beautiful way with words, dear.”
Andrea smiled but said nothing as she ran her finger over the signature on the bottom right corner of the mural. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She lingered at the comment written in white beneath the banner which held the names of the teachers, “March 13th, 2041. Never forget the Ides of March.”
“And never, I shall…” she whispered. She righted herself, smiled at Mr. Hester and Mrs. Applegate, and quietly left the library.
One of the girls in Ms. Ashling’s class slowly approached Mr. Hester as he stood, staring at the mural.
“Mr. Hester?” she asked shyly.
“Hmm? Oh, Lauren, how may I help you?”
“Well, I wanted to ask, what was Andy’s last name?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I just… I have this feeling, and I want to know if I’m right or not.” she mumbled feebly.
Mr. Hester chuckled, “Why not go take a look at Andy’s signature.”
Lauren slowly approached the mural, and stared in awe the closer she got. When she found the signature, she squatted down to read it.
Slowly, she read it aloud, “Andy Ashling, Begun 4/13/2041, Completed 5/13/2041.”
The End.
Everything in this world exists in two forms; there is the physical, tangible form we know from our day to day interactions, and then there is the shadow, the reflection, the negative of the physical form. Many spend their days meandering through life, never stopping to consider what may occur in the shadows. These people live their lives in blissful ignorance of the secrets the shadows hold. However, for most, this fact is a nonissue, as in reality, knowing the truth can be far more terrifying…
Sheila held her bag of groceries tight as she paused to look up at the sky. It was a dark night, but she could plainly see the storm clouds gathering above the city. With an ominous crackle of thunder, she knew she needed to hurry home. She was still several blocks from her new apartment, and she knew it would start raining well before she got to her door, so she decided to take a short cut she had learned recently. She laughed at herself as she strolled down into the alley.
“Wow, talk about a cliché… a girl on her own, in a dark alley, storm clouds in the sky… I feel like I’m in some cheesy horror film.” She laughed again. Sheila held herself confidently. She was a skilled athlete in college, having lead her volleyball and track teams to first place in their respective leagues, and while that had been four years ago, she still maintained her athletic physique. She also had a switchblade in her pocket, just in case.
“Nothing here, just like I thought. I guess even the crooks find this place to cliché to use.” She left the alley and continued toward her apartment; the alley route saved her several minutes off her normal commute from the grocery store, and she knew it well enough to doubt she would find trouble. She chuckled a little, thinking about how silly it was for her to be worried.
This is Adamant City, she thought, the crime rate is so low here that the chances of anything happening are tiny. Anyone who’d do anything is to scared of the Wrath of Magi to have the balls to try!
“My, you’ve got quite the skip in your step there, lady. Good day?” a voice commented from behind her. She turned and saw a short, friendly looking man leaning against the wall of the corner store, reading the paper. She smiled at him,
“Oh, I’m just enjoying a cliché heavy route home. It’s hard not to laugh at it.”
“Hah, yea, I know whatcha mean. Then again, what isn’t cliché heavy these days, eh?”
She laughed “Yea, I guess so. Well, nice talking to you, sir. I’d best get home before it starts raining; don’t want soggy groceries.” She waved and walked off, heading toward the alley up the block. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the man toss his paper to the side and slowly follow her. As she entered the alley, she made note of the flickering EXIT sign about halfway down. A stocky figure stepped out of the door just before she passed it. She couldn’t tell who it was, but she tensed up a little. The man didn’t pay her any mind until a familiar voice rang out from behind her,
“Hey, Ralph. Aren’t you gonna say hello to the lady? No need to be rude there, buddy.” The stocky man turned and put his hand on Sheila’s shoulder,
“Hello, lady. Have you met my buddy Vince?” he rumbled through a dim grin.
“Um… I have, I think. Would you please let go of me?” she asked, nervously…
“Don’t be so stuff, honey; we just wanted to chat with you…” Vince, the short man from the corner store, now stood on her other side. Sheila loosened her grip on her groceries and prepared herself to run, but was pinned against the wall of the building Ralph had come out of before she could react.
“Hey! What are you doing? Let me go!” she barked
“Ooh, feisty… just how I like ‘em,” Vince said with a cold grin, as he knocked her groceries to the side. She saw Ralph rummaging through her purse, but had her gaze forced back to Vince as he gave her a rather crooked grin. “So, speakin’ of clichés, eh…” He chuckled, “I hope you don’t plan on screaming or anything, there’s no one nearby that would hear you anyway.” She grimaced, because she knew he was right. The bar behind them was too loud for anyone inside to hear her, and the rest of the stores within earshot were closed for the night.
“I found her money, Vince, pretty good chunk, too.”
“Very nice! Now then, on to the fun part…” She gave him a vicious look when he reached to remove her shirt.
“What, no date first? You should at least treat me to dinner first.”
“Ha, don’t be a smartass, bitch. It won’t help your situation.” Vince had her firmly pinned, and even if she could get loose, the other guy would grab her before she got away. She was pretty sure Vince was wrong though, because she knew the area well enough to know that if she could buy some time, a patrol car would pass by soon.
“Wow, you must really be pretty sad if this is how you have to get your rocks off. How tiny is it? Three inches?” She forced out a confident giggle, “Not like any real man needs to force a girl to get into her pants.” She felt the sting of his punch before she realized what hit her, but she scoffed at him, “Oh please, my eight year old sister punches harder than you.”
“Fuck you, bitch! I’m gonna show you what kind of trash you really are”¼”
“Vince, you’re getting’ pretty worked up over there…”
“Shut it, Ralph.”
“Oh, so you’re the brains and he’s the dumb muscle, right? Sounds like a pretty bad deal to me. You know he thinks you’re an idiot, right Ralph?” Another punch, it hurt more than the last time, and she could taste blood in her mouth, but she knew her plan was working. “How’d he get you to work with him, Ralph? He promise you something? He’s not gonna give it to you, you’re just the muscle.”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” She felt it in the gut this time, and she buckled forward, coughing, “Hah, not so tough now, are you?” Her pants were ripped off before she could catch her breath, and she started to worry some. She glanced at the street. “Oh? You’re waiting for the nightly patrol, ain'tcha bitch. Well, this particular officer has the night off tonight. There’s not going to be a patrol car near here for another eight hours. Tch,” he looked at Ralph, who seemed lost in thought, “Ralph, buddy, remember who we are. Don’t take the words of some smartass bitch over your friend.”
“Al- Alright Vince…”
Sheila was much more concerned now than she had been. She looked around to see if there was anything she could use to fight back, to defend herself… then she saw it.
“What, so you’re that pathetic that you need THREE people to handle ONE girl? Wow, I guess it’s even smaller than I thought…”
“Three? Do you suck at math, bitch? It’s just me and Ralph here, and we’re both going to have a lot of fun with you before anyone else shows up.” He let out a shrill laugh, and looked at Ralph, who seemed confused. “What? Are you still thinking?”
“No, V- Vince… Th- There ARE four shadows…”
“Come on now; you’re the money counter, I know you can count.” Vince turned and saw that there were, in fact, four shadows cast in the light of the EXIT sign. He recognized his own, Ralph's, and the woman’s, but the fourth one stood there, silently, as if there were a fourth person present. “What the hell? Must be some trick of the light. Ralph, go check and make sure we don’t have a guest.”
“Gotcha.” Ralph moved toward the source of the shadow, but there was no one there, “There’s nothin’, Vince. The sign must be broken.”
“You know, scum like you are the reason zealots like Magi flock to Adamant City.”
Both men snapped back to the shadow with the sound of the disembodied voice. Sheila, too, was shocked, and was entirely unsure what to think.
“Who’s there?!” Vince shouted, “Get out here, or I’ll kill this bitch!” Sheila felt a sudden pressing of metal against her neck that she recognized as a knife.
“A hostage? That’s even lower than I expected of you.” Their eyes widened as the shadow slowly stepped away from the wall, towards them. The details of a sturdy man in a ragged black trench coat and a worn down hat came into focus as the shadow melted away. “I’d suggest you let her go, unless you’d prefer to take her place.”
Vince laughed again, obviously shaken but trying to feign confidence. “Just who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you can do some fancy magic trick, doesn’t mean you’ve got what it takes to handle me and my buddy. Ralph!”
Ralph jumped towards the man, with a knife in his hand. In one fluid movement, he caught Ralph by the face and slammed him into the wall behind him. He shot Vince a rather intense scowl.
“Who do you think you are.” Only one of the man’s eyes could be seen, his right eye obscured by his hair, but his left eye was a sickly yellow color, and had a slit where it should have a pupil. The look it wore was so intense that Sheila felt like all the air had been forcefully sucked from her lungs. By the pale, shaking appearance of Jake, it wasn’t any better to be in direct line of that eye.
“Wha- Wha- What… What are you!?!?!” Vince stammered, “Are you some kind of freak? Monster!?” His knife left Sheila’s throat and aimed itself towards the man, but it shook — he shook — with pure horror of what could be hidden behind that eye.
“I’m just a concerned citizen,” the man chided, in a tone that sent a shiver down Sheila’s spine.
Vince glanced at Ralph’s limp figure and then back at the shadowy figure, “You- YOU! You- You’r- You’re him! The- The- You’re the Crim Reaper!”
Without shifting his gaze an inch, the man let out a great laugh, “Is that what they call me now? Haha, that’s horrible! Ah, oh man,” he wiped a tear away from his hidden eye, “The old hag warned me that would happen if I picked this name. Ah well, haha, nothing I can do about it now…” He moved and began to unbuckle the straps on his left arm, still laughing softly, and never letting his gaze leave Vince’s eyes.
Vince started to inch forward, and Sheila backward, trying to distance herself from what was about to happen.
“Miss, you might want to keep your head down,” He said to her, “because the Crimson Reaper’s Judgment is unbiased, and I’d rather not have you caught up in it by accident.”
Just as he said this, Vince lunged forward, to stab him. His hand caught the knife, and his stoic expression changed to bloodthirsty sneer. Sheila instinctively covered her head, and all she saw was a deep red flash, and then a thick, jet black cloud filled the air.
When she finally raised her eyes, she saw the two men hanging from the wall across from her, tied in red chains. They were both ghostly white, as if something had literally scared them to death. Beneath them, the words, Citizen’s Arrest, C.R. had been carved into the wall. She stared in disbelief of what had happened…
“Oye! Wha’s goin on out ‘ere?” she turned and saw the owner of the bar sticking his head out of the door next to her. She met his eyes and instantly covered up her legs. “My word! You ok there ‘un?” Sheila nodded slowly, and then looked up at the two men hanging from the wall. “G’dammit, tha’s the fourth time this week! Oye, Franky, call the cops up an’ tell ‘em we got another one. They do anythin’ to you ‘un? Osh, thassa nasty lookin’ shiner. Franky, call an ambulance too, got a victim this time.” The man then helped her up and led her inside.
September 2nd, 2039,
Dear Journal...
...do I really need to write “Dear Journal,” every time? That’s so cheesy. Meh. I’m only doing this because the doctor said to. I don’t believe her shit about it being good for me, but I’m sure she’s gonna want to check on it from time to time, so I best have at least a few entries. I may as well introduce myself to you…. Journal? Book? Paper? I’ll go with Paper Entity. So, Paper Entity. My name is Andy Ashling. It’s short for Andrew. I don’t like my name. I’m 14, and a Freshman in High School. Well, hardly, given it’s only the first week of school, but…
Nevermind that. I don’t want to turn this into some stream of consciousness drivel that they can use to say I’m insane or something. I’m supposed to write about something that happened this week… hmm…
Oh! I got it. How about the fact that the damn football meatheads have decided that I’m their new favorite toy? This week sucked. I’ve been shoved in lockers, trashcans, and worst of all, someone’s gym bag… blegh… School’s off to a great start, if you ask me! I hope the sarcasm is easily seen there… I’m not some friggin masochist… Meh. This is stupid.
Andy Ashling
While one must respect the shadows, and the power they hold, it would be prudent to not forget the power of the world in which we live. While the shadows hide and cower from the sun, the tangible forces at work create a more obvious effect. This reason explains why many are unaware of the shadows. Why worry, when the light shines so brightly?
Sergeant Bob Quill of the Altar City Police Department’s North District was as laid back as cops tend to come. He sat with his feet on his desk, calmly sipping his coffee as he read the day’s issue of the Altar City Gazette. He glanced at the headline, “‘Adamant’ City Crime Rate Hits All Time Low, Magi to Thank”
“Tch, Magi, huh? What’s that make us, huh?” He grumbled as he took a bite out of his donut, and continued to read quietly.
“You can’t deny he’s handy to have around, Serge. He scares a lot of the less ballsy idiots away from trying to pull anything off.” Bob glanced over his paper at the man speaking to him,
“Sure, so he can summon the power of nature and whatever other nonsense he does, but damn it Parker, he makes us look incompetent. Cops can’t do their own job, so they send some old guy with a book and a beard to do it. Tch.” Bob sighed, “I mean, they call this place ‘Adamant City’, because the Justice system here is so tight. WE earned the city that nick name. Not some old codger with a magic wand. I don’t see why we need him around.”
Parker, Officer Ralph Parker, responded apathetically, “Eh, if it means the wife and kids worry less, it’s fine by me.”
“Yea, but we didn’t all marry women with a temper like yours, Ralph.”
“At least I am married, Jack. You’re still a bachelor right? Then you don’t have room to talk!” Ralph snapped.
“Ha, you make it sound like I want to get married, buddy. I’m too young for the ol’ ball ‘n’ chain.” Jack chided. Bob glanced at Officer Jack Townsend. He was the rookie of their threesome, and had an ego to match his age.
“Jack, just because you’re working under Lieutenant Law Hammer, doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to have that ego, why, when I was your age-” Bob was cut off mid sentence by the entrance of their superior officer, Lieutenant Lawrence “Law Hammer” Gavel. “What’s going on, Boss?”
The Lieutenant didn’t even glance at them as he put on his coat and continued toward the door, “Bank Robbery at the First Bank of Altar City. Get off your asses and get moving. We’ve got point.”
“Yes, sir!” the three men responded in unison, while scrambling to gather their coats, badges, and guns. They quickly followed the lieutenant to the squad cars and headed for the bank.
Bob sat quietly, watching his boss in the passenger seat of the car they shared. He and Lawrence had been in the same class at the academy, and had been in the same unit since they graduated. Lawrence’s abilities were what got him his position, but his personality was what kept him there. The man had a cold demeanor and no sense of humor, and every step he took made that clear. One step out of line in his district, and you were history. Of the city’s Lieutenants, he was by far the scariest, although even he was terrified of Captain Jameson, his own superior officer.
“You’d think they’d have all just given up by now, eh? Why keep trying between us and Magi?” Bob thought aloud, trying to start up a conversation with his old partner. The man said nothing, and continued to stare out the window silently. Bob shrugged. Lawrence had never been much of a talker. He grinned, remembering some of their stakeouts, where the man had remained silent for hours on end. Bob decided to try a different approach, “So how’s your brother doing, Boss?”
“He’s fine.” Bob waited for some kind of continuation, but to no avail. Unlike Lawrence, Max Gavel was a pretty lively fellow. He ran a pub that all of the city’s police loved. Bob decided to head there after his shift ended.
The Lieutenant was already mid step out of the car when they pulled up to the bank. Bob hated how he never waited for the car to stop, and had accidentally broken Lawrence’s ankles more than once because of that habit. The man has no patience, I swear, Bob thought to himself. He got out as well, and joined his Boss and the two younger officers as they were briefed on the situation. A crew of seven armed men had entered the bank half an hour earlier, and were now holding the people inside hostage, and making demands for immunity and freedom to leave.
“Nonsense. We don’t negotiate and they know that.” Lawrence commented, coldly. He took the megaphone from the man debriefing them and walked towards the doors of the bank. “Attention; this is Lieutenant Lawrence Gavel of the Altar City Police’s North District. You have five minutes to surrender yourselves peacefully, or I will be forced to call in…” he paused for a moment, and then continued with an icy tone, “…reinforcements.”
The air outside the bank fell still and heavy. Everyone knew exactly who he meant by “reinforcements,” and they weren’t sure how to feel about his reliance on the individual. They watched through the doors of the bank, as the seconds ticked by. The phone that the robbers were using to communicate rang. Bob managed to answer it before his boss could, knowing that hostage situations were not the man’s forte.
“Hello, this is Sergeant Bob Quill. Have you heard the Lieutenant’s message?”
“We have. We’re insulted that you find us so gullible. Tell the Lieutenant that if he has the nerve to open his big mouth again, we’re going to toss three hostages out to you guys in body bags.”
They hung up before Bob could respond. He gave the other men a concerned look, and then glanced towards Lawrence, who was silently staring at his watch. He had heard the call, and grinned at Bob. He tapped his watch, and made a “call” sign, without opening his mouth. Bob let out a heavy sigh and pulled out his phone.
“Hello, Alex? It’s Bob. We- Yea- You’re- then you- so you’ll- Alright then- Ok, thanks.” He grumbled quietly as he hung up the phone, “She’s always so curt, I swear, if I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe she’s a librarian…” He sighed again and turned back to his boss, “He’s on his-”
CRACK
A flash of light filled their vision, as a lightning bolt struck the street near them. A thin figure calmly strolled out of the smoke. Bob knew it the second he saw the bald man, with his long white beard, spectacles, and white and red robe, slowly advancing with a tall walking stick.
“Magi…” someone behind him uttered. The old man approached Bob and extended a boney hand from under his robe. Bob shook it and explained the situation to him. “Thanks for coming, Magi. Your help is always appreciated.”
“’tis I who appreciate being allowed to help, young man. Now then, if you will excuse me for a few moments, I’ll try to finish this quickly so you folks can get on with your day.”
The old man walked towards the doors of the bank with an air of calm authority that only comes with great experience and age. With a flick of his fingers the doors flew open. Bob watched the frail figure slowly enter the bank, nervous, not worrying for Magi, but rather, for the criminals. The tension outside nearly doubled as the silent moments grew longer. Then the gunshots came. Bob wagered semi-automatics. The screams of agony, horror, and panic that followed those who opposed Magi filled their ears. A loud clap came next, and then the building fell silent.
Bob felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Regardless of his opinions, he was glad to have Magi on their side. He watched the old man calmly lead the hostages out of the bank with a warm smile on his face. Bob noted that Magi’s clothes were untouched. Lawrence approached Magi, and shook his hand, thanking him. Magi nodded and tottered off as one would expect someone of his apparent age to do. Bob motioned for Ralph to get statements, and then he and Jack followed the Lieutenant inside to assess the situation. It wasn’t a pretty scene. Bob approached one man, who was pinned to the ceiling by what he assumed was once a potted plant, though now it looked more like a giant Venus Flytrap.
“Christ…” Bob uttered, as he turned and saw the other bank robbers in similar situations. He counted the bodies, though calling them bodies wasn’t accurate. Magi never killed anyone. “Boss, there’s one missing.”
“I- I- I- I’m n- not m- missing…. I’m hiding….” came a stuttering voice. Jack had his weapon drawn and aimed at the man, who was curled in the fetal position behind a bench. Bob didn’t bother with his weapon as he approached the man. “J- j- just arrest m- me.” he stammered, holding out his hands for the cuffs. Bob obliged.
“What the hell happened in here…” Jack muttered.
“You don’t wanna know, kid. I stopped asking that after the first time I saw Magi work. It’s better for your sanity not to ask.” Bob commented, “Take this guy out and bring some chainsaws back with you.”
Jack paused for a moment, looking at the grizzly scene, then grabbed the man’s cuffs, “Yea... ok…”
Bob shook his head. I don’t like it, he thought, I don’t get why this guy is on our side.
“Don’t question it, Bob.” Lawrence said, jarring Bob from his thoughts, “Just be happy that he is on our side.”
“You’re probably right, Boss.”
September 20th, 2039
Dear Paper Entity,
So, here I am again, writing to some paper person. Useless waste of time, if you ask me, but I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter. Meh. At least this time I’m not writing in the negative…
Yea, I’ve actually had a good week. So far, my classes have been pretty easy. My English teacher Mr. Valence is awesome. I think he might secretly be insane though. He constantly bounces between a chipper, “Carpe Diem! Seize the Day!” attitude and a morose “Memento Mori” personality. That’s probably why I like him though. My other teachers are ok, except for my history teacher. I’m fairly sure the man is hellspawn. I’m also sure I saw his horns the other day… Aside from him though, I’ve had a pretty ok start… ignoring the first week.
Eh, I guess you’re not so bad, Paper Entity. I mean, if nothing else, you give me someone to bounce my thoughts off of, that won’t try to lecture me or give me advice. Ah well, I think I’m done for now.
Andy Ashling