The Professor Novels & Stories

He looked at her questioning eyes that screamed out her protest and sighed. “Look dear, I am just a Professor in this university,” he said. “Like you, I am also unaware about the matters that the people there make.” “If there are any reasons as to why a matter will be considered as sealed, I can only think of a few reasons.” he sighed.

Rage boiling off him like radioactive steam. But that wasn’t the worst part. No. Because right beside him—arms awkwardly at his sides, expression horrifically neutral, eyes darting like a deer caught in a very inappropriate headlights—stood... Mr. Cristiano Wright. My professor. In his dark slacks and half-buttoned shirt. His perfectly composed face trying to calculate whether he’d walked into an emotional intervention or a domestic warfare documentary. I could see it in his eyes. That exact moment when his soul quietly whispered: “I am a dignified professor afterall. Why the actual f**k am I here?”

“It’s good to have multiple outlets. Art can be isolating sometimes.” “Is that why you became a professor?” I asked. “To be less isolated?” He considered this as he stirred the sauce. “Partly. Teaching forces me to engage with the world in ways I’d normally avoid.” He gave a lopsided, self-deprecating smile. “Though my colleagues would probably tell you I still don’t engage enough.” ‘Professor Julia seems to think you engage just fine.’ I thought to myself. “The sauce is almost ready. Would you mind setting the table? Plates are in the cabinet.”

NATASHA'S POV We stood frozen to the spot, my heart beating against my ribcage. Oh God, no. Just when I thought it was over for Patty and I, the professor pinned his eyes on an elite. The student looked taken aback. He scoffed. “Were you really talking to me?” He asked in a slightly irritated voice. The professor, who was physically built and looked like he was in his thirties, smiled. Something about his smile was hostile and deadly.

"Hmm… I'm not too sure either. Maybe you should ask Professor Black." Professor Black is one of the most popular young professors at our school. At 26, with blond hair and a sharp, handsome face, he has the kind of looks that catches everyone's attention. Known for his warm, gentle personality, he always wears a crisp white suit that gives him a polished, almost elegant look. He seems to have a certain glow when he stands in the sunlight, which is probably why so many people in the school admire him. I hesitated, then said, "I don't know, but I always feel the way Professor Black looked at me is a little... strange."

the Grand Professor said quietly, not daring to meet her eyes. They had promised her— They would never lie to her. Everything else, they had always been honest about. But this—this was the one thing they could never tell her. Until today, when they could hide it no longer. The Grand Professor’s voice was low and gravelly as he went on: “Your teacher… even though he was younger than all of us, he was a prodigy. In chemistry and biology, few in the world could match him at the time. And now—Briella, you’ve become one of those few.”

Kaiden did the same, though he looked like he wanted to argue. The professor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good. Now, I’m heading out.” That caught my attention. “What? Where are you going?” He smirked. “I have a date.” Both Kaiden and I shot to our feet. “What?!” The professor raised an eyebrow. “You two need something?” “You? A date?” Kaiden asked, looking genuinely disturbed. He shrugged. “Surprising, I know. But some people actually find me charming.”

[Vanessa] “Professor?” I take a step forward, trying one more time to get a definitive answer from him about what he is thinking. “Is there something I should know about before I go?" For as long as I known the professor, his is unfailingly honest. The man doesn't lie, at least not directly, and is honest even when it isn't kind. However, he is an expert at keeping secrets.

Harold saw sadness. Something, or rather, someone, must have pushed the professor into doing all that he had done to him and his friends—Wilkes and Trisha. ‘Something terrible’, Harold thought, ‘Perhaps, Francis.’ Harold also noticed that his professor was getting old. He had fading pupils which were once hazel coloured, greying bald hair and a wrinkling face and that made Harold wonder even more why the Professor had done what he did, but there was no way he could ask at that moment, lest he blew his chances of learning from him.

He was trying to act like he didn't care, but his eyes were full of fire. I reached for my chalkboard. I like the view here, I wrote. Huxley chuckled. "A woman of few words. I like that. But I prefer to hear a lady’s voice. Tell me, is the Professor treating you well? Does he let you leave the house?" I just pointed to the "Junior Fellow" badge on the table. "He’s very protective of his work," Huxley said, looking at Caspian. "Maybe too protective. You know, Blackwood, there are rumors that this isn't a research project at all. People are saying you’re just hiding a scandal."