Professor Merrythought Novels & Stories

“I figured you’d hate chamomile.” I blinked. “Thanks?” She looped her arm through mine like we were old friends and not mortal opposites forced into proximity by cruel administrative fate. “How did it go?” she asked. “Madam Meera says I’m a walking magic error.” “Oh! Neat!” I stared at her. She giggled, completely unbothered. “Come on, we’ll be late for Cryptobotany! Professor Thorne gets cranky when we don’t bow to her mandrakes.”

Wow. "Weird." I whispered and focused on my skittles. The two-hour lunch break ended and our history professor walked in. This professor is actually a bit weird... or unique from other teachers here at our university. I could say that she had the same energy as that arrow tattoo girl has. They're both obsessed with mythical creatures. Pushing her thick black-framed glasses, she cleared her throat to get the attention of some of us. Yes, emphasis on 'some'. American high school students usually don't care about nerdy professors like her.

Drake kept looking so bad at me that I ignored him. "Good morning, everyone." She’s our professor, Prof. Rose. She's our Spell Professor. She’ in her mid-30’s. She wears a thick glasses, wavy hair, and an elf's ears. Her thick spectacles could not hide the beauty she possessed. She also always carries a thick book where all the spells are. She said that her ancestor entrusted it to her so she did not let it disappear from her sight. Because when it goes in the wrong hands, something may go wrong.

"But really, you shouldn't stand in the way like that. Good dogs know better." I looked toward Professor Doyle, who was packing up his teaching materials. He adjusted his glasses and said coldly, "You're clumsy and lack even the instinct to dodge an attack. Mindy, a defective product like you is seriously damaging the academy's distinguished atmosphere. Come to my office after class. I need to consider whether to revoke your enrollment here."

The Professor didn’t respond, letting silence speak for itself. Joe raised an eyebrow, leaning in toward me. “I knew she wasn’t up to it.” I couldn’t help but let a small smile tug my lips. “Yeah, you’re the best.” He smugly arranged the sliced meat on the tray, still curious. “Professor, where does she rank in the field?” “A notch above an average PhD,” the Professor said faintly, eyes still on his bowl. I didn’t speak; I just continued stirring the base of the stew. Steam curled up, blurring my vision, and for a moment, I let the warmth of the broth soothe the tension in my chest.

“I’m expanding this throat. Training it. Making it mine. Every choke, every tear, every drop of drool is proof you were made for this. Forget your books. Forget your classes. This is the only lesson you’ll ever need.” Mia shifted on the floor as she watched. “Professor… Aren't that painful?” The professor smirked without looking at her. “Not really. Though you two are about to get used to it. This is the lesson you girls needed, not equations. It's used to get high paying Jobs and undersreved promotions."

Professor Mitchell walked to the new girl. He was curious to know, what brought Moon Kart to his class. Moon was a very intelligent student. But he never attended anyone's class and because of his grades principal Albert was on Moon's side. And because of his support, no teachers were allowed to punish Moon. Professor Mitchell stood right in front of Ocean. She was chewing her bottom lip in nervousness. Professor Mitchell asked her. Professor Mitchell: So you're the reason for the miracle we have witnessed today. What's your name?

“Melissa, Hazel, the one I told you about, the new professor.” Melissa turns with a smile, her expression curious and open. “Ah, the occult studies professor. That’s not something you hear every day.” I smile and shake her hand. “It certainly makes for interesting conversations.” We spent a few minutes talking to her. Melissa works in publishing and seems genuinely fascinated by the academic side of supernatural lore. She asks about the strangest myth I’ve ever researched, and I tell her about a 17th century love spell involving frogs and hair clippings. We share a quiet laugh before Valerie pulls me gently along again.

A hint of amusement laced his voice. "She was talking about some thesis, but I guess it was an excuse," Professor McClone teased. Sebastian's mind racing, he smiled. "Don't think too much, John. We were working on the Ashwood Heritage research. She wasn't lying," Sebastian clarified. Professor McClonechuckled. "I didn't ask for an explanation, Seb. Just meet her when you come back," Professor McClone said. With a final smile, Professor McClone hung up the call.

"I'm sure you're smart and you don't look like you bother anyone. This is your last year, right?" She nods, her eyes searching for his, but he was too focused on her face. "Don't let anyone distract you from achieving your dreams. The men in college aren't men, they're young men that's still developing. Focus on what you're doing and get your degree. And to whoever that asshole is, fuck him." Azalea laughed and Thompson joined her. He removed his hand and she exhaled a breath. "Thank you, Mr. Thompson." "When we're alone you could call me Maddox if you want to. I'm trying to climb the ranks of being coolest professor," he grins.