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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
For a few magical seconds, the stinging pain in Harold's finger stopped and even the warm, red blood that streamed down his face like tears stopped as he took a lasting look at the small jar in Professor Ericson's drawer.
'He was the one that sent the letter to me?', Harold thought as he picked up the jar with his healthy hand and held it with two fingers a few metres from his face with wide eyes like an old sailor examining a treasure box to know if the fortune he'd found was authentic. There was almost no difference between the squid's ink and a normal one used in writing and if he hadn't seen what was written on the clean, transparent jar, he wouldn't have guessed in a thousand years that it was what it was. 'But why did he write that to me as a warning if he will later capture my friends?' he quizzed himself.
It made no sense that his professor was being the good and bad guy at the same time. What exactly was wrong?
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Harold Girard and Wilkes Milton stood, watching their lecturer, Prof. Ericson, not knowing what to do and he, their professor, exchanged their stares with a deathly glare as his line of vision shifted from Harold to Wilkes then back to Harold, then Trisha who was still unconscious. The tick-tock of the wall clock above them was the only sound that was to be heard from the room that was being raided more and more as each second passed by the brilliance of the sunlight that flooded in from the open world.“You will pay for the damages done to that wall—and flower vase, too,” Prof. Ericson commanded as he folded his arms into each other like a priest. Harold couldn't believe what he had just heard. This was a man who was very emotional minutes ago; close to tears. A man who had warned Harold about the contest a week ago through a letter. A man who was in a forbidden affair with his student. A man who had tried to
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Harold and Wilkes carefully guided Trisha's body towards their dormitory which was on the next floor. They slowly but steadily climbed up the poorly illuminated staircase; one foot before the other, until they were finally safe in the confines of their room which they locked when they were in. JustWhilst on their way, Harold had kept on staring back at the empty hallway for Professor Ericson because without doubt, he was up to no good and if not paid much attention to, he could drive a knife through their spinal cords to annihilate them when they weren't looking or something like that."What do we do?" Harold queried as his brows knitted together instinctively. He flicked on the pale bulb of him and Wilkes room after he had sealed the door shut for their safety then carefully walked over Trisha's still numb frame and parted the drapery for ventilation."Get water from the sink. Get a mild cloth, too, and pray to the Moon
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Harold's fingers dug into the cartons of the two large pepperoni pizzas he had in his hands as he jogged past a sky blue Sienna that was parked in front of an old but very tall building which looked like an ancient watchtower. He moved on and got to a small grassland that had a couple of lofty and very leafy firs sprouting out of the earth here and there, and Harold walked on, towards the fountain. A part of him wanted him to go back to his dormitory—with the pizza. That is, run away from the abnormalities that seemed to be everywhere in the school, and pretend everything is just as it should be; normal, but another part of him wanted to see what was going on, find out the exact cause of it all and if possible, provide solutions, and as Harold walked along side a bunch of nosy jocks all dressed in oversized maroon attires, the part of him which was winning was very evident. Harold's fingers instinctively dug into the pizza boxes he ha
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Harold sighed and from the bed he was on; next to the window that revealed the sun which was sinking into the clouds and letting out a bright orange hue; the one found on dying embers of coal, he shifted his butt uncomfortably like a patient in a wait room who is about to see a doctor on a personal subject. “I need to get going, guys,” he said morosely as he took a long look at what the time said from his phone which was placed on his lap before shifting his gaze to the outside world where a flock of small, black birds were migrating northwards with noisy coos and chirrups.“Where?” Trisha shot back. Ever since the ‘fountain incident’ happened and they had come up with a bizarre theory to explain why Harold had found himself in a fountain gushing blood, she had been edgy and very uptight. But that theory was their last resort. Harold had said it was possible a student pushed him into it and didn't own up to doing so.
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‘Why did he tell me this?’ Harold asked himself as he systematically swept the ceramics of the broken vase into a lump and shoved them into a tray dish then emptied it into the trashcan beside him.He was aware that Prof. Ericson was no longer paying attention to the book which was still in his palms but rather, he was watching all of his moves which made him feel uncomfortable; like a bug under a microscope.“Bring down all those books,” Prof. Ericson ordered, pointing to a very tall stockpile of books that were on a moth infested shelf. “Wipe those books of the dust and restack them neatly. The cleaners will be so pleased with you,” he added sarcastically which made Harold angrier than before.If only he could get hold of Trisha's phone and delete the video then Prof Ericson won't have the upper hand, he thought. Harold leaned the broom against the wall neatly the same way he had picked it and sighed tiredly, wiping hi
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“Hand the phone over to me,” Prof. Ericson ordered in a very deep baritone that shook Harold a little as he stretched his broad palm out, expecting Harold to put the phone in it.He, professor Ericson, was back to his staunch and distant self with his lips that barely parted as he spoke and eyes which were inimical and cold, and Harold knew it was entirely his fault. He had chased the snail back into its shell.If only he had deleted the video from Trisha's phone and kept it back in the drawer, it'll take a longer time before Prof. Ericson was aware that he had tampered with it, meaning Prof. Ericson would have helped him more.“I'm... I'm very sorry, sir,” Harold stuttered as he dipped his hands into one of his pockets and brought it out. He glanced at the damage he had done to the wall because he couldn't look Ericson in the eye and he felt more stupid than he'd ever in his entire life. Since his arrival in the school, he had don
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The sun was completely sunk into the sky and a pale yellow hue with a few fluffy white that crisscrossed the milky clouds—like a zebra, had taken over, spreading its tangerine-coloured shade from East to West, and from North to South, too, as it served as a magnificent background for the hundreds of birds of diverse kinds that performed flight acrobatics whilst landing on top of fir trees to rest before taking off again.The evening insects crackled and called to one another in their different ‘languages’ as night slowly crept in and one by one, the street lamps which could be found at every junction came alive, shining their white, bright lights on the tarmac.Out in the open, trying to find a solution to the misery that had befallen one of them was Harold and Wilkes, carefully journeying to the girls' hostels in search of a sassy wolf whom neither of them recognized.“Do you remember the exact location of her room?” Harold asked W
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