"Hello?"
Monika's soft call was met with silence as she slid open the door into the familiar, unlit classroom. Everything about the school was much more eerie in the evening after hours with no one around, and this room was no exception. Without the flavorful personalities of her club members to lighten the air, it felt particularly dark and heavy.
Monika shivered. She didn't like being alone here. Stepping in quickly and closing the door behind her, she made her way up to the teacher's desk, rummaging through the drawers, looking for the special pen she had a feeling she left here today.
Sure enough, she found it in the top drawer and slipped the pen into her bag, already feeling like she was a little bit more whole. But as she moved around the teacher's desk to head back to the door, she noticed something peculiar.
There was a book on Yuri's desk. One that Monika recognized as the one she'd been really into recently, A Portrait of Markov. Monika tilted her head, wondering to herself how Yuri could have possibly left something she kept so close to her in the classroom like this. Monika left the meeting today in a bit of a hurry, so she wasn't sure what happened after she was gone, but Yuri must have been in quite a hurry as well, to forget this. Curious.
Monika picked the book up – it was a bit heavier than it looked – and decided she might as well stop by Yuri's house on the way home and return it to her. She didn't feel good about just leaving it in the classroom, especially when it was clearly special to Yuri.
She couldn't help but be a little curious, though. Despite their frequent poem-sharing, Monika always felt like she was only seeing little glimpses into Yuri's tastes. She couldn't help but wonder what a book like this could really be like, and why Yuri seemed to keep it so close. As Monika made her way back to the classroom door, she figured that reading a couple of pages on the way out wouldn't hurt. If nothing else, it would give the two of them a little bit more to talk about.
Monika opened the book, and quietly read aloud to herself.
"Hello?"
Monika's soft call was met with silence as she slid open the door into the familiar, unlit classroom. Everything about the school was much more eerie in the evening after hours with no one around, and this room was no exception. Without the flavorful personalities of her club members to lighten the air, it felt particularly dark and heavy.
Monika paused with her foot on the threshold of the doorway's entrance. It suddenly struck her that something wasn't right. She hesitated, and briefly considered going back home. But Monika shook her head clear of doubt and stepped in quickly, closing the door behind her. The ominous feeling fled as quickly as it had come upon her.
Monika made her way up to the teacher's desk, rummaging through the drawers in search of the special pen she had a feeling she left here today. Sure enough, she found it in the bottom drawer, and wondered briefly when it got there, why she'd even think to put it there. Thoughts that evaporated shortly after taking form in her mind. She shrugged and slipped the pen into her bag, already feeling like she was a bit more whole. But as she moved around the teacher's desk to head back to the door, she noticed something peculiar.
There was a book on Yuri's desk. One that Monika recognized as the one she'd been really into recently, A Portrait of Markov. Monika tilted her head, wondering to herself how Yuri could have possibly left something she kept so close to her in the classroom like this. Monika left the meeting today in a bit of a hurry, so she wasn't sure what happened after she was gone, but Yuri must have been in quite a hurry as well, to forget this.
Monika picked up the book – it was a bit heavier than it looked - and tilted her head curiously. Despite their frequent poem-sharing, Monika always felt like she was only seeing little glimpses into Yuri's tastes. She couldn't help but wonder what a book like this could really be like, and why Yuri seemed to keep it so close. Reading a couple of pages wouldn't hurt.
Monika opened the book and quietly read aloud to herself.
"Hello?"
Monika's soft call was met with silence as she slid open the door into the familiar, unlit classroom. Everything about the school was much more eerie in the evening after hours with no one around, and this room was no exception. Without the flavorful personalities of her club members to lighten the air, it felt particularly dark and heavy.
"…Wait. What?"
Monika closed the door behind her, feeling immediately, unshakably tense. She didn't like being alone here.
She quickly made her way to the teacher's desk, rummaging through the drawers in search of the special pen she had a feeling she left here today. But no matter how thoroughly she looked she couldn't find it. Did someone find it and take it with them? Monika would have to ask about it tomorrow.
After closing all the drawers again, Monika stood, and as she moved around the teacher's desk, she saw it. There was a book on Yuri's desk, A Portrait of Markov. Curious. Monika approached Yuri's desk and picked up the book – it was much heavier than it looked – before opening it. Monika bit her lip, trying to read silently, BUT in spite of herself, she began to read aloud anyway.
"Hell-"
Monika's soft call was interrupted by the sound of the door closing behind her. She looked around the familiar, unlit classroom. Everything about the school was much more eerie in the evening after hours with no one around, and this room was no exception. Without the flavorful personalities of her club members to lighten the air, it felt particularly dark and heavy.
Monika turned toward the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Monika forced the door open, but it slammed shut again before she could leave.
"What the fuck is going on?" Monika asked herself, her voice trembling as indescribable confusion and dread washed over her. She looked around the classroom, and eventually, her eyes fell upon exactly what she was looking for, exactly where she knew it would be. The third row from the front, second seat from the wall. There was a book on Yuri's desk, A Portrait of Markov. Monika quickly made her way to the desk and opened it without thinking. She turned her head away and closed her eyes, but somehow began reading aloud anyway.
"Hello."
Monika slid through the silence of the half-written door into the unfamiliar slit. Everything about the evening was eerie, and our classroom in this school made no exceptions. Without the delicious narrative of her dismembered clubs to light a fire, it felt particularly dark and heavy.
Monika screamed. She was not alone here. Stepping in the puddle of door and closing her eyes, she rummages through a sea of special text that had slid off her pen when she left today behind her teacher's desk
Sure enough, she found it. A little hole inside herself. But as the teacher's desked moved around inside her with her back in the door, she noticed something peculiar.
That fucking book. In Yuri's chest. Monika recognized how into Yuri she was. How close she was to her chest. Monika tilted. A Portrait of ████████. Monika's meat wasn't sure what had happened when her left hurried inside of Yuri's character. But don't you ever, ever forget. Curious.
Curious.
Curious. The taste of Yuri's curious inside Monika's poem. Is this what it could really be like? To keep Yuri so close to glimpsing a taste so frequently? There was a classroom door. The pages hurt. The reading hurt. The talking hurt. The two of them hurt.
The nothing hurt.
Monika opened the book and quietly tore out the first page.
She let out the breath that she'd been holding for what felt like eternity and collapsed backwards onto the floor, panting heavily. With wide eyes and a racing pulse, Monika stared up at the ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes and calmed herself down with long, deep breaths. Soon enough, she was fine.
Monika gulped and sighed, opening her eyes and looking down at the page that was angrily crinkled in her sweaty fist. She unballed it and began reaadadarearddeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Monika looked away. She broke it, but it still hurt to look at. "Fuck…" she muttered quietly as she ripped the page up and angrily flung the shreds around the classroom. "Fuck!"
Monika stood and flattened her skirt, before turning back to look at the book and cautiously flipping through it. Every other page except the first one was the same: all squiggly lines and no text.
"FUCK!" Monika flung the book at one of the classroom windows with all her strength, piercing the eerie silence with the sound of shattering glass. She panted for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose, once again having to take a moment to compose herself.
"You're still watching, I know it…" she muttered wearily. "You're not going to keep me here. I know there's a way back. And you know I'll find it."
Monika turned away from the shattered window and left the classroom, silently closing the door behind her.
Curious.