FicWad

There is something not right in Princeton High... there’re peculiar things going on, like whose mud prints were those found facing the third floor corridor before the classes start? And whose voice is it that some students had heard singing in the comfort rooms? Everybody’s unnerved and scared and though the faculties do not show it, signs say they are concerned. Frank had nothing to do with the mysteries, nor did he care. He, as much as possible, stayed away from those gossips. Little did he know that he, as an untimely “accident” happens, will know whatever there is to know. As the secrets unfold itself in front of him, as he gets to know the “Memory” more clearly, dangers, too, appear, threatening to overthrow him and... kill him. Some teachers seem to know clearly what was going on and before he knew it, someone by the penname “Bull” had been writing letters for him pertaining to threats as he sees it. He did not know how these “threats” can turn into warnings about dangers of the Unknown. Time is running out, can he make it?

“And now, the rocks will be brittle enough to be broken in pieces when the acid penetrates it,” a loud bang on the floor caused Frank to jump. He was sure he had been the only one who was not listening because he was the only one who jumped. He noticed the rock Mr. Way was holding was now on the floor, in pieces. He reckons that he will be, too, as the towering shadow of his Science teacher engulfed him.

“Listening again, are you?” came Mr. Gerard Way’s sneering voice. “Iero?”

Frank’s eyes widened innocently as though they were going to pop out of their sockets any second.

“Would you kindly repeat what I just said?”

Luckily, he had read about the lessons of how acid rain occurs in place of erosion. He read about it and he never does, so it clearly stated that he was bored enough to do so.

“Excellent,” said Mr. Way, not really sounding impressed.

He continued with the lesson until lunch break came. Drake Hassen, his best friend, came running up to him.

“Hey,” he said.

Frank merely nodded and looked straight ahead.

“I want to talk,” said Drake, rather serious if you know him that long.

“You always do,” muttered Frank. “Okay, fire up.”

“Those mud prints, the voices, and they never mentioned the rust marks on the second floor corridor, you know what I mean?” he said.

“What’s up with that? I mean, seriously, there’s nothing exciting with them,” said Frank. “Everyone’s on the height of tearing up each others’ faces just to know whatever is up with those.”

“You’ll never know, Frank. There are things that we call ‘paranormal’. The unseen, the unknown and the invisible, you know?” said Drake, sitting down on a chair in the cafeteria.

“It’s like I asked for a talking dictionary,” he mumbled, sitting opposite to him.

“C’mon, it’s adventure anyway,” urged Drake.

“And what do you want to do? Sneak up at night?” said Frank in disbelief.

Drake’s eyes widened, “That’s a great idea!” he exclaimed.

Frank leaned his head on his palm as he ignored Drake’s babbling about how to get past the heavily guarded grounds and how to investigate the scene of the crime.

“You’re not sure it’s a scene of a crime,” countered Frank as he turned the page of his History book on the topic of the Colonization Era.

“It is,” said Drake. “Because... because...”

“See?”

“Alright, you win,” Drake said and by the tone of it, he gave up.

History class was drawn nearer and he expected the other Mr. Way to be pleasant, though most of the time he is. He prefers himself being called “professor” though it suits his brother’s subject more. Maybe, for the brothers, it’s the other way around.

Professor sat on his desk coolly while reading the History book. The girls who went early greeted him flirtatiously while he nodded without a sound. The rest of the class including Frank and Drake stormed in and sat down. Professor looked up and beamed, putting down his book and standing up, he said, “Good day, guys.”

“As I’ve already told you, we’ll have this quite short quiz about the topic yesterday,” he said, eyeing them through his rimmed glasses.

Many of the students gasped, not really aware that he did so, not that he really announced it the day before.

“Of course, it’s a pop quiz,” he beamed ever more widely. “I don’t want to spoil a pleasant surprise.”

He handed them the papers and told them to start answering, while giving them the usual reprimands about cheating.

3:00 pm...

“Good,” said Professor Way. “The results are tomorrow and I know all of you are excited, all those hard work just to study.”

He could really stir a nerve.

“Off you go.”

Frank never fancied a trip to the lab but Professor ordered so, he’ll need to. The task was to arrange things like glasses and lab stuff on the long table. Easy does it and in no time, he was ready to leave, but he heard sniggering from behind. He turned to the storage door and found Max Ruther, Justine Grabbe and Froilan Fletch, the three most renowned bullies in Princeton.

“Wuh’s with you? Goin’ here in the lab without an adull, small /Frankie/?” said Max, teasingly.

Justine and Froilan chuckled stupidly behind him.

“What about you? Got your tongue in a knot again, haven’t you?” Frank taunted back.

Max’s tongue was tied since birth and he hadn’t taken any therapy seriously, that was why until today, he still had difficulty in speaking straight. The room became full of the stench of burnt grass, meaning the three were smoking inside the storage room unnoticed.

“Doh you der speak do me like that, you coward!” Max lunged right at him and landed a really good punch on his trunk, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Justine and Froilan joined in while laughing stupidly as their punches land on Frank’s body. He could not fight back; imagine three big guys holding you down when you were only one. Max stretched to stand upright, meaning it was over. He laughed maniacally, running from the lab with his other bully-mates. Frank, under the long table, was sprawled unable to move as unconsciousness drifted upon him. His eyelids drooped and finally, the school was cleared from students, the corridors were empty and he was unconscious.



It was cold. The owls hooted softly and the crickets trilled perfectly. There was a whoosh on the bushes outside, the window was open. A patch of fur landed on his nose, twitching involuntarily. A foul stench reached his senses and he jerked wildly awake. Mouse. No, mice.

Slowly, he got sense of where he was. The lab. He was knocked out there. Finally, a huge wave of panic hit him, what time is it? The windows which were always open to allow a suffice amount of sunlight were not doing their job right then. There was a chilling breeze and, are there owls in the day? His eyes, blurred from vision because of the punches, squinted thoroughly through the dim corners. He got up and found another way to give himself a bump on the head; he was under the long table. He let out a gasp of pain and crawled underneath. The door was open and the corridors were dimly lit. He found himself walking towards it, feebly and weak. When he was out, he got the urge to run, but his incapable legs would not allow him.

Then, a surge of fear erupted from his stomach as he heard two voices from the hall intersection.

“I’m quite sure it came from here.”

“Maybe it’s the ‘Memory’.”

“But he’s not allowed here.”

“Well then, whoever that is, he’ll know what’ll happen next.”

The second voice cackled and lights from flashlights emerged from the hallway.

TO BE CONTINUED...