Morbid Interpretation

Staring from behind the shadowed glass, it was possible still to distinguish figure from figure and person from person. Though the sun had long since set and even the most dedicated of drinkers had left, I found myself still filled with an insurmountable amount of anxiety though I could scarcely hold myself upright. The mind may an incredible thing, but one's body certainly is not.

"See 'ere sire, I'd like ta' be closin' now if ya' don't mind," the bartender, Frank I believe was his name growled at me from behind his heavy lids. I nodded my head, choosing to ignore his broken grammar and fragmented English- it's best to leave the brawny be, especially when the mere notion of movement provides inspiration for sudden projectile vomit.

With his steady (but rough) hands I soon found the rough gravel of the frozen street my new friend. Sarcastically, I mocked the children I taught, the farce of leading young minds to the future while my own lost steadfast its power. But, as it became evident my body was in no physical inclination to follow my lead, all thoughts focused on slowing the world and raising myself.

Yet another enthusiastic night.

"The civil war was fought under two primary sides; the Yankees, or the North side of the States and the Patriots from the south. The major cause for rivalry was due to the…"

"Abolitionist law announced by the current president, yes, etc etc," I sighed resting my pounding head against my palm. The class emitted a small chuckle, clearly grateful for any annoyance after last week's confrontation. "Ms Jones," I proceeded. "When this essay was assigned two weeks prior, were you not given ample time to choose not only the subject, but also research and type?" Her sickeningly white grin vanished.

"What?" Eyes running over her paper, she frowned in confusion.

"If I'd wanted to know how 'The History of the Civil War- 1945 James Town Edition' interpreted both the war and its participants I would have simply had you all read its glorious four-hundred pages." Good, I thought to myself- she's speechless. "What I'd asked for was your view of the events, not what was written by ancient scholars in a time before your own literacy was discovered." Her jaw looked as though it might drop from her face and I rubbed my eyes cringing at their sensitivity.

The rest of the class seemed to share her reaction and even my star pupil, as though there truly was such a thing, seemed shocked by my conclusion. "Seeing as we have only a few minutes left, I give you all this warning that you may take whatever precautions necessary within the next 24 hours so that you too do not suffer the same zero Ms. Jones has just been awarded." Narrowing my gaze, I traveled over the murderous faces of each student. "There is no wisdom gained from facsimile. If you are given something to right, you best be sure it is your own work." The bell screamed, and I smiled sweetly. "Enjoy your lunch."

Turning to the dark chalkboard in the room, I stared proudly at the work before me. It seemed like no one cared anymore of the past- as though it was some cluster of obsolete events, things that could not be held in relation to anything from the now.

Snapping me from my vague thoughts was the sound of a cough. I rolled my eyes. It was not a real cough, but the shy imitation of one who has something to say, albeit unimportant for they are unable to call attention to themselves properly. To add further insult;

"Uh, Mister Shields? I was told to see you after class today?" The voice was high and sweet and immediately I recognized it as my newest addition. I cocked my head and turned just enough to have her in my view. Her hair was spun in the same ridiculous style as ever and it couldn't help but strike me as somewhat dependable. Her face was drawn in a nervous frown and her cheeks glistened with a natural flush, likely caused more by nervousness than anything. My cheeks twitched at this thought- that I could inspire such an effect.

"Yes, Bunny- no you may not have an extension." She jolted as though not expecting my reaction and I leaned back, closed my eyes and grinned. "Close the door on your way out." But there were no footsteps, no swinging of hinges and least of all the merry sounds of the hallway. Opening my eyes I saw her standing there still, yet now she bore a seething gaze and her face seemed to redden by the moment. Her mouth opened and a million gracious words seemed to want to tumble from her lips.

"Actually, SIRE," she stressed, bug-eyed in a comic attempt to appear threatening. "I was told by the office to see you after class." And thrusting a free hand from under her books, she dropped a crumpled note onto the desk. I stared at her for a moment, enjoying her frazzled state and slowly leaned foreword to read the scrawled message.

I frowned. This was ridiculous. Looking up at her, I found her to be wearing the same irritating smirk I had just moments ago in my grasp.

"So…"I trailed, "I'm to be your- tutor?" She shrugged, flippantly tossing her hair from her shoulder.

"As I wasn't born here, the Principle agreed, along with my parents, that I should need some extra help in learning about this wonderful country," her tongue slick with sarcasm, she continued. "And who better they decided then the most accomplished staff to assist?" Oh, this was too much. As she spilled the remainder of the tale, clearly enjoying the discomfort it caused me, another plan formed itself in the twisted depths of my mind. "So you see, Mr. Shields, why I won't be handing in the essay tomorrow." I kept her gaze and nodded pleasantly. Oh, this was too easy.

"Well then meatball-head, I suppose we shall be seeing more of one another, won't we?" reaching out, I ruffled her hair, almost ecstatic for my brilliance. Walking to the door, I turned with enough time to catch her flabbergasted. "Lessons begin tomorrow morning at six a.m.," I paused. "Don't be late."

Long wait, no excuse except for extended writer's block. On a positive note, I am cutting off any global relations so the next couple of days should prove quite productive. Not much happened but I decided the actual tutorial might deserve some extra loving care- so it receives its very own chapter! Will Darien realize he feels more than animosity for our favorite heroin? What could possibly go wrong with a 6 am appointment? And when a sudden disaster strikes, who will be there to comfort and support? Though you might already know these answers, read on to find out how!