(A/N) Hey everyone! Here's yet another story about my all time favourite couple... JARRY! Now, if you've read the genre (Romance/Spiritual) you're probably wondering how I'm going to do it. Well... no-one's going to die to join the dead person, so stay tuned.
This story is actually based on a real life event which happened at the University of Montevallo in Alabama (which back then was called Alabama Girls' Industrial School). I'm going to be using how the person died, and some hauntings which have been accounted, as well as my own ones I've made up.
For more information on the story, type in Girl on Fire, Scary for Kids, and look at the parts I've kept and changed.
So, read and review, this chapter might be short, sorry about that. It involves two-time frames 2012 (present day) and 1908. If I get 5 reviews or more, I'll update.
And since Kickin' it is set in Seaford, I'm using there instead of Alabama, and the school is like a boarding school. XD And keep in mind, back in those days they didn't know you were supposed to stop, drop and roll. (Neither did I until last week actually.)
Happy reading. Hope I don't scare ya.
And if anyone else likes slash, check out my other stories, they're struggling for reviews at the moment. :(
~Kickin' it~
Seaford Boys' Industrial School: 1908
"Mr. Anderson." The teacher called out.
"Yes Lady Freeman." Jack replied dully, looking up from his folding slate.
"Have you done your essay?" She asked sternly, peering at him through her owly spectres.
"Yes Lady Freeman." Jack replied, getting annoyed at the constant use of his surname. He wasn't allowed to say anything though. Since Lady Freeman wasn't in a good mood, and was tapping her wooden cane against her thigh, and he'd already been caned a few times across the knuckles by his Arithmetic teacher, Lady Bennett, for daydreaming.
"Please come to my desk and give it to me." Lady Freeman instructed.
Jack adjusted his hat, and walked up to Lady Freeman. He was afraid of what she might think of it. Jack had written his essay on paper, and had to use a pen. The pens were annoying, because they constantly had to be dipped in ink, and would cover your fingers in ink. And Jack's handwriting wasn't exactly the neatest, but he'd made a good effort and his mother was very proud of him. His Father had even gone out of his way to hire him a writing tutor.
The teacher took one look at it and tutted. Jack would have opened his mouth to say something, but he decided against it and walked back to his desk and put his head down. The reason Jack didn't say anything, was because teachers were allowed to treat you how they wished, talk you in any tone, look at you with a glare that could kill, and they were all armed with deadly canes, and the authority to use them. However if a student did that, they would get the cane forty times across their back.
School was meant to be strict and Jack knew that, but it felt more like a prison. Seaford Boys' Industrial school was like a waiting place to die. But Jack knew he was lucky, for a few reasons: One: He was sixteen and alive, and two: He wasn't working down in the mines, or as a chimney sweeper, like many other children.
Rudy Campbell, Jack's best friend and roomate, was another unfortunate soul at Seaford Boys' Industrial. He was an average man, tall and slim. He had sandy brown hair, which never seemed to decide on whether to stay curly, or straight, so his hat would always be precariously dangling on it. He also had dark brown eyes and a smile was always plastered on his face, save the times he would be caned for fooling around.
After another hour of a quiet classroom and the students scratching the alphabet on their fold away slates, the bell erupted and with silent cheering, everyone packed away and walked off to their dorms. Jack turned around at the sound of footsteps running up to him.
"Hello Jack. Good class?" Rudy asked.
"No." Jack replied flatly, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair.
"Well, I've got something that'll make it better." Rudy showed Jack a paper bag, shielding it from everyone's view. He opened the sides and Jack took a peek. He saw all the ingredients for fudge, along with a small cauldron-like pot, a box of matches and a bottle of alcohol.
"Seriously?" Jack said. "Helga will kill us."
Helga was the caretaker, and was even stricter than the teachers. Rules were simple, be in bed by nine, and be up, dressed and ready for school at half six the next day. And making fudge was against her rules too. Students weren't allowed to have matches in their rooms, so making fudge would surely get them both in deep trouble.
"No, she won't even find out." Rudy said freely. "Come on."
"Ok fine. I'll light the pot, but that's it." Jack decided.
"You are such a wimp." Rudy scoffed as they walked back to their dorm room.
At quarter to nine, Jack and Rudy's room was filled with the sound of quiet crackling and the sweet smell of fudge. As he stirred the liquid inside the pot, Rudy knew they'd get in trouble, but they weren't really hurting anyone, or doing any harm. They were just trying to lighten the mood in the gloomy place the teachers called School.
Jack scraped a match across the top of the box, and touched the flame to the candle's wick, which was nestled comfortably under the cauldron. Once it was alight, he took the spoon from Rudy, and stirred it around, putting the spoon on the side once he was done. They both froze as they heard Helga's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Boys!" She called out into the hallway. "Lights out, now!"
Jack and Rudy moved quickly and in their haste, they forgot to extinguish the flame, and accidentally tipped the bottle of alcohol over. It trailed towards the flame, the flame latched onto the liquid, touched Jack's sleeve and flames erupted over his sleeve and over his bed.
He was on fire.
Jack tried desperately to fan the flame out, but it got larger and spread over his clothes. He didn't care about the pain he was in, just that he got out of the room and Rudy would be safe from Death. After a few failed attempts to put the flame out from both boys, it began licking Jack's bare skin, making him scream loudly in panic and run out of the room.
Jack was horrified as his actions only fueled the flames. Soon his entire body was covered and a bright orange light filled the hallway as he ran down in, shrieking loudly in pain. By that time, all the boys had gotten out of bed and opened their doors, but they could only watch in horror as Jack was slowly but surely burning to death, his screams echoing around the hallways, and ricocheting from wall to wall.
Jack screamed a final time before he groaned and suddenly fell to the ground, the flames taking complete control of his body. Rudy tore back into his room, and grabbed a blanket. He went back out into the hallway, and walked cautiously over to Jack's burning corpse and put the blanket over Jack's body, finally snuffing the fire out.
Only, it was too late.
Rudy took his blanket away, discarding the badly charred piece of fabric once he saw it's state. He didn't care about the stupid blanket, he didn't even care that his bed had burnt, but he did care that his best friend was now a black hunk of burnt flesh lying dead in the hallway. And it was all his fault.
"God forgive me Jack." Rudy whispered as he held the limp corpse in his arms. He jumped as Helga and the Principal finally ran up the stairs.
"What's going on?" They asked.
Rudy gulped and opened his mouth to explain. "Well..."
The evening after the fudge mishap, Rudy was miserably walking back from his last lesson. He never really noticed how dull everything seemed before, but now it was clearer than crystals. Jack had always livened things up. Now he was gone, the fun was gone. Everyone had tried cheering Rudy up, but they couldn't. Everything reminded him too much of Jack, even the sound of the other children's laughter as they played in the playground.
Rudy had been severely shouted at, with threats of suspension, was caned a total of a hundred times on his back, and was shouted at again. But he didn't care. No amount of punishment could make him feel worse than he already was. His best friend was dead. And nobody cared, except Jack's parents. All the teachers cared about, was that one of their students had broke the rules, not that one had died.
Rudy walked into his dorm and shut the door behind him, lighting a candle. He was careful to leave it a good distance away from him. Rudy's eyes caught the burn on the surface of the small desk, and he ran his fingers thoughtfully over it, wishing more than anything he could turn back the clock and revive Jack.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Rudy's head shot up at the sound. It sounded eerily familiar, like Jack was burning and screaming all over again. If someone was trying to play a joke on him, he wasn't finding it very funny. In fact, he found it insulting. How could someone disrespect a dead student who was most likely their friend too?
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
As the ear-splitting shriek sounded again, Rudy shakily took the candle off the dresser, and held it out infront of him, using it as a light. He put his free hand on the door to open it, but his hand never touched the handle. He contained the urge to scream himself.
On the door was a screaming face.
Rudy held the candle closer, and examined it carefully. It had an chiseled, oval-like face, two almond-shaped eyes, widened in fear, a mouth set in an 'O' and hair wild and sticking up. It vaguely resembled flames.
Rudy knew it was Jack's face, without a doubt.
~Kickin' it~
University of Cognita, Seaford. 2012- present day.
Jerry Martinez stood nervously outside the University of Cognita, clutching his suitcase. He was spending a few years there to catch up on his education. He'd missed two years of school, seeing as he was moving to Seaford from Spain, and it took his parents a long time to be able to get a Visa.
"¿Estás seguro de que vas a estar bien Jerry?" His Mum asked, conversing in Spanish.
"Si." Jerry said brightly, hugging his mother. They often spoke Spanish together, it was easier for them, but his Dad had to learn English for his business. His Mother had been taught English and Spanish, but Spanish as a first languge was easier for them all the remember.
"Voy a echar de menos." She sniffed. "La buena suerte."
"Gracias mamá." Jerry smiled as he walked inside, but not before waving his mother's black Ferrari down the street.
He stepped inside and looked around. The college was modern on the exterior, but it's old interior remained. The polished oak banisters and doors, the regal looking dark blue carpets with trailed up the spiralling staircase, and the old pictures hanging from the cream walls.
Jerry walked over to one wall, and looked up at the pictures, some in sepia tone, and some in color from more reccent years. One particular photo caught his attention, it was in sepia tone, and was of one boy. He looked Jerry's age, but had clothes which fit his era: hat, brown jacket with short trousers and shoes. The picture read:
Jack Anderson 1882 - 1908
Jerry wondered why the Jack boy had a photo of just him, when all the others were of the whole class. There were sixty odd pupils in each class, they were stood in height order, with the tallest standing on benches, and the shortest were simply standing. Jerry's eyes wandered to another one.
Class of 1908
The picture was sepia, like many of the others, but Jerry could make out that the Jack boy was in the photo. He was in the middle of the middle row. He was stood next to another boy, who was slightly taller. They both had their arms around each other in a friendly manner. Jerry decided they must have been best friends, nothing more, since they were so close, and back then loving someone of the same sex was inappropriate.
"Ah... Mr Martinez."
Jerry turned around as he heard his last name. He was approached by a large man who was the Principal. He looked like school Principal's everywhere. He was dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit, with an odd tie, shiny black shoes and was nearly bald.
"I'm Principal Guplin, nice to meet you." He introduced himself and extended his hand.
Jerry shook it. "I'm Jerry."
"Yes, you'll be rooming on the fourth floor, in room 12, with Eddie Davidson and Milton Krupnick." Principal Guplin said.
"Ok, thanks." Jerry smiled.
He began tugging his suitcase up the stairs, when two boys came down them and stopped on either side of him. One boy was dark skinned, had a lightly shaven head and brown eyes, the other was pasty and so thin he looked frailer than a glass statue. He also had very light brown hair, and brown eyes.
"Hi... Jerry right?" The pasty boy asked.
"Yep that's me." Jerry said.
"I'm Milton, and this is Eddie." Milton smiled. Jerry smiled back and smiled in Eddie's direction.
"C'mon, our room's this way." Eddie said, motioning for Jerry to come up the stairs.
There were three more flights to go up, but Jerry didn't mind. He liked looking at the photo's of the old students, what was from the school's original interior, and what they changed to be more modern. Jerry heaved his suitcase over one last flight, before the trio finally reached the fourth floor. It was bare, with cream walls and a few replicas of famous paintings hung on the walls.
As they passed the dorms, Jerry noticed the one which was supposed to be labelled with 13, didn't have a door, and was completely deserted. Jerry wondered what could have happened. He squinted as he saw a small dot on the door frame. R.I.P JACK. Could the Jack who's name was carved on the door frame of the deserted room be the same Jack who's photo was hanging up on the ground floor?
"Guys?" Jerry asked as he set his suitcase down in his new room. "What's with the 13th room having no door?"
"Well, this is apparently just a rumor-" Eddie began. "-But back in the 1900's, there was this kid named Jack Anderson, and he and his friend Rudy were making fudge in their room, and it caught on fire, and Jack ran out screaming into the hallway, making the fire larger, and he burned to death." He finished.
"How... lovely." Jerry said. "But why doesn't his room have a door?"
"Because, again this is a rumor. But Jack's face appeared in the door the day after the accident, and over the years the door was being replaced, but Jack's face still kept appearing, and eventually everyone got freaked and took the door down to storage. And no-one has stayed in the room since 1995." Milton said. "I'm not a believer when it comes to ghosts, so I'd have to see it to believe it."
"Well I do believe it." Eddie said. "Remember when I heard those footsteps?"
"Eddie, that could have been anyone coming up the hallway." Milton objected.
"So where's th-"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
All three boys jumped visibly at the scream. It was horrifying. It sounded like someone was being tortured to death with acid or getting stung by at least a hundred-thousand wasps. They all ran out as the scream sounded a second time, noticeably louder. Once they were peeking out of the door frame, they saw a black figure covered in flames running down the hallway.
"So..." Jerry said breathlessly once the figure had fallen to the ground and vanished. "I'm guessing that Jack Anderson, isn't 'dead' after all."
~Kickin' it~
(A/N) So, what did you think? Also, the real story says hot coca and another says fudge, but I think it's fudge because I watched the story on Scary... But True once, and it said fudge.
Don't forget your reviews, the good stuff will happen soon, I promise. And I hope I haven't freaked any of you out too much.