Classroom X - IV. ɿoɿɿiM ɘʜT

i saw something bad today. someone jumped off the roof of a building, or maybe fell, but he died. and i just stood there, gasping and i couldnt believe what just happened, i was just so dumbstruck and i didnt know what to do. even my teacher was crying all over the desk as me and the other kids in class just kinda watched and stared and didnt know what to do. it was really weird, and sad.

johnny johnny tom said to me, even though that isnt my name. but i asked him what what, what is it, and he said that the kid that died, he was pushed. he didnt jump, tom said, someone pushed him. some fucker killed him. oh my god, i said. thats horrible, thats really really bad. i know right?

whats gonna happen? why did this happen? who did this?????

it was you wasnt it? you were there right? standing there in the background thinking no one could see you. it was you, im almost sure im almost certain. im gonna tell the teacher and tell her that you did it. you pushed that kid off the roof and fucking killed him, you fucker. youre not getting away with this. never ever ever never ever.

ever.

even though you say it wasnt you, i dont believe anything you say. see the bodys still there, lying there with no one to love it or take care of it. and you dont feel a thing, youre the only person not crying. i think it was you.

you better look in the ɿoɿɿim and see what you see, im pretty sure youd be afraid at what you see. your scary face and your messed up hair...

the teachers gonna come and smash you up like a baseball bat hitting a watermelon or something. its what you deserve and you know it. the kids dead, its your fault, and you know it. were all gonna come and kill you, and then kill you again.

im gonna take a ɿoɿɿim and throw it down on your face so the entire thing breaks into a million pieces, and im gonna put all the pieces into you, and then im gonna get another ɿoɿɿim and do the same thing again. and if im not happy then, ill do it again, no problem.

youll be a pale reflection in no time, glass sticking out your stinking little bloody body. its what you get you coward fuck, you know it. look in the ɿoɿɿim again if you dare, because youre gonna be in Hell.

Classroom X - III. Plato's Cave

Somewhere along the local creek there’s a pathway where kids often go down to play by the clear, rolling water. The air is fresher there, shielded from the sun with great trees that provide shade. Kids, especially those without parents, hanngg around there a lot after school, playing cheerfully until it’s too dark.

The teacher walked by once, on a chilly November Saturday morning, hoping to see some geese or truth fly by. Instead there was only mild sunlight, skimming the surfaces of the ground, peeping through the cracks in the clouds. The flowing water gleamed brilliantly, splashed up by children who threw rocks.

“DIE, TeSsIE!¡” One of the kids yelled. He threw a rather large rock downstream, striking a tree trunk. Another rock sailed through the sky shortly afterwards, this time hitting a young girl with a magnificently quiet thUUUd.

The teacher didn’t see this directly, but she heard some of the kids scream with panic and mild annoyance — spurred into action, she hurried down to the river — blood-stained river — tried to calm down the stunned children…

im sorry

im sorry

im sorry

im sorry

im sooo

sorry

It’s ok, the teacher manages, out of breath and in denial. She’s cradling the child’s head in her arms, soaked in thickness and despair. I’m appalled.

            b                                                          l                                   o

                                                                                                o                                  d

ev                                             r           e              y                              

wh  e                            r e

The tragedy is suspended there for a long long time. Nothing really moves, or dares to move. The water shimmers with reverence. Until the dark blanket rumbles in, and everything shuts down in darknesss and quietude.

The teacher takes out her cell phone flashlight, trying to illuminate the scene.

The bright, narrow light casts long shadows on the frozen trees and wilting kids.

And the shadows dance, flickering macabre moves, some changed reality.

The blood can no longer be seen, a solace that is a falsity.

We see something — it isn’t real — the world fades out like the end of a movie. The teacher still weeps, rocking the dead child.

                        Cut the lights.

She’s stuck there, she realizes. The rest of the children have left, melted into the background or gone back home. A ceiling descends over her, with dampness and the thin veil of shadows.

And a fire starts to burn

            a fire,

                        life

                  a fire,

                                                            burnnnning…

                                    crackling —

Overcome come by exhaustion, the teacher falls asleep and doesn’t wake up until the cave has grown to en0rmous proportions. She’s swallowed by it, in a sense, inescapable. When she does wake up, the sun shines brightly for everyone else, but the teacher is still trapped in the darkness. It’s a long way back to the light, but she lets go of the dead child, and soon she’s back in her bedroom, tending a small fire, it seems.

/  \

/Kallipolis\

/ …- - -…  \

/flames of illuusion\

Classroom X - II. The Frog Prince

When springtime comes, the kids love to play outside, as the grass is green and the sun is out, but it isn’t too cold or too hot outside. The teacher looks out and watches, not really thinking about anything. She still has questions, but ones that have no answers.

Lingering.

Lin-      geringgg…

During class one day, a kid brings in a frog she says she found on the way to school. It was raining frogs the day before, anyways.

            There are no frogs here! the teacher exclaims.

            But it is a frog!

            Maybe if you kiss it, it will turn into a prince!

So the kid does, and the frog turns into a handsome prince. He’s wearing a fine suit, with dark brown hair, and tall too.

            My god…

We let him stay in class for the rest of the day. He doesn’t talk, and doesn’t seem to move very much. At one point though, early in the afternoon, he points outside. It’s a rainbow.

qwertyuiopasdfghjk

All the kids yelp with joy at the sight — it’s a full rainbow, curved and complete, with hints of a double faintly edging into existence.

And like that, the prince fades. He’s gone by the time the final bell rings, but the kids hardly notice. They go skipping back home, while the teacher stays a while longer. When she does leave, and walks out to the back to get to her car, she sees, all around, littering the asphalt parking lot, hundreds of frogs. They look at her in earnest, expectant like a room full of obedient children. Then the creaking begins.

crackle, crackle,

                        don’t leave            don’t leave

Goosebumps pop up instantaneously on the teacher as the sun dims and the creaking ascends to a high pitch —

RIBBITTTTTttttttttt…

“Save us.”

“Save us now, please.”

“Missus…”

The teacher kneels down, putting down her bag, and reaches out to one of the frogs. It leaps quickly into her hands, and she leans in and pecks it on the lips. Nothing happens. A shiver runs down the teacher’s spine. Absolute tErRor. Seizing, clasping around the neck, the wrist...

            another...another...where is the prince???¿???????????????????¿?

The frogs are on her now, unrelenting and agggresivvve. She squeals a little before descending into a spiral (spiralingspiraling) down to some state of surrender. She opens her mouth, mouthing words syllables that come out as:

            ta ha yr doooo bulasol          unU           

m de tri forrd    um keeEeta                                Lau     drim —

— da                                        dA                                                       da

—

The prince rises from the chaos and pulls the teacher out. She’s flattered, blushing from cheek to rosy cheek. Are you ok? inquires the prince. Yes, I think so, the teacher responds.

            Ok, the prince says.

            Ok, the teacher says.

The sun sets quietly, burning with warm colors. The teacher looks out from her kitchen table at home, thinking about an absent man she loves. He’s no prince, she admits, but the crooked smile, and a twinkle in the eye —