The old lady had been a teacher at the school for as long as anyone could remember. The sounds of joy and laughter that filled a classroom would turn into a stifling silence within seconds of her entering. Whenever she saw kids talking in huddles, she would think that they were hatching a new scheme to trouble her; whenever she heard kids laughing, she would think that they were laughing at her.
Not to say that she wasn't good at her job. She was a good teacher. Only, too paranoid. And lately, she'd started going a bit deaf too.
She was in a particularly foul mood that morning. First, she overslept because she couldn't hear her alarm. Then, her own daughter had told her that she ought to get her ears checked. And finally, she'd almost been run over by a car while crossing the road, because she couldn't hear it's honking.
She realized something was amiss as soon as she walked into her class of tenth graders. The room seemed unnaturally quiet.
"Good morning, kids," she said loudly, with her back to the class as she erased the blackboard. There was no response. She assumed they were trying to mess with her, so she let it slide. She finished clearing the board, turned around and sat on her chair facing her students.
"We will continue our reading of George Orwell's Animal Farm today. Can all of you please turn to page 47 of your books and commence silent reading?" Again, she received no response. Normally, whenever she asked the class to read silently, tiny murmurs of sound would erupt from the children's lips as the sincere ones started reading and the rowdy ones started talking to each other while pretending to read. But today, nothing. There was pin-drop silence in the room. For a fleeting moment, she was elated at the thought of finally having disciplined the most notorious bunch of children ever to have passed through the school's system. Then she saw that there lips were moving like they always did, and yet she couldn't hear a sound. That's when she started freaking out.
She got up violently and shouted, "You - first bench. Stand up and read loudly for the whole class". The kids were shocked at her sudden outburst, and yet the boy she'd pointed to stood up and started reading. His lips were moving, she could even make out some of the words. Only, she couldn't hear any of them. She couldn't hear a sound. She walked up to the boy and shouted at him to read louder. She saw his chest heaving up and down and his lips forming words, his eyes fixed on the book in his hands. Everyone else was staring at her, surprised. That's when she completely lost it.
"Noooooooooooooooooooo," she screamed as she ran towards the door. I can still hear myself, she thought. What does that even mean? Am I going mad? She decided that perhaps she was. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo. I'm NOT going MAD!" she screamed as she exited the classroom and started running.
They knew that they would face detention and their parents were likely to be summoned, but the opportunity was just too good too pass up. And so, as the teacher went out of earshot, the most notorious kids ever to have passed through the school's system finally burst out laughing.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Cook
The cook knocked on the door. When no one opened it for more than a minute, he tried turning the doorknob. To his surprise, it was unlocked.
No lights were on inside and it was pitch dark. It looked like the power was out.
"Hello! Anybody home," he shouted. When he got no answer, he started walking towards the kitchen. He was used to this. The guys who used to live there were lazy bums, mostly holed up in their rooms doing geeky stuff. And if they didn't find food when hunger made them drag themselves to the kitchen, guess who would get an earful? The cook, of course! But it also worked out better for him. As there was no one to supervise, he could quickly put together something edible and get the hell out of there. And the geeks paid well.
This was the first time the power was out though.
The cook made his way to the kitchen and started looking for a candle to light. Just then, he heard the sound of muffled footsteps behind him. Startled, he turned around and saw someone standing at the door, holding a old fashioned kerosene lantern in his hand. The man's face was not visible, but he assumed he must be one of the geeks.
"What should I cook today, sir?" the cook asked, cursing under his breath for all the extra effort he would have to put in if this guy asked for something elaborate.
"Make whatever is in the refrigerator," the man with the lantern replied. His voice was eerily flat and utterly without expression, but the cook paid it no mind and opened the refrigerator. He groped around in the dark till he found a plastic bag. He opened the bag and pulled out what was inside it. Then, he froze.
"But.. but this is a foot. A human foot," he said. He had turned white and the words were barely coming out of his mouth.
"I know," the man replied, "I was in the mood for a leg-piece tonight." He raised the lantern to illuminate his face. He had no eyeballs and his mouth was smeared with something that looked a lot like blood. The cook screamed, dropped the foot and started running, knocking over the eyeless man in the process. A number of candles had miraculously lit up the main hallway of the house and what he saw made his blood curdle. A trail of fresh blood smeared the floor, as if someone with a heave bleed had staggered across the hallway.
The main door was in the direction of the blood trail, but he had no choice but to follow it if he wanted to get out of there. He ran. The door was just around the corner. As soon as he made the turn he froze, and screamed again. One of the geeks was standing beside the door with his face covered in blood and the hilt of a dagger jutting out of his forehead. He was laughing like a maniac. Without thinking or waiting to take stock, the cook threw his weight against the nearest window and landed heavily in the lawn outside.
He staggered to his feet and looked back at the window. A skeleton with glowing orbs for eyes was waving at him. He screamed again, turned around and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. Needless to say, he never came back.
The sounds of hysterical laughter from inside the house could be heard even after he was long gone.
No lights were on inside and it was pitch dark. It looked like the power was out.
"Hello! Anybody home," he shouted. When he got no answer, he started walking towards the kitchen. He was used to this. The guys who used to live there were lazy bums, mostly holed up in their rooms doing geeky stuff. And if they didn't find food when hunger made them drag themselves to the kitchen, guess who would get an earful? The cook, of course! But it also worked out better for him. As there was no one to supervise, he could quickly put together something edible and get the hell out of there. And the geeks paid well.
This was the first time the power was out though.
The cook made his way to the kitchen and started looking for a candle to light. Just then, he heard the sound of muffled footsteps behind him. Startled, he turned around and saw someone standing at the door, holding a old fashioned kerosene lantern in his hand. The man's face was not visible, but he assumed he must be one of the geeks.
"What should I cook today, sir?" the cook asked, cursing under his breath for all the extra effort he would have to put in if this guy asked for something elaborate.
"Make whatever is in the refrigerator," the man with the lantern replied. His voice was eerily flat and utterly without expression, but the cook paid it no mind and opened the refrigerator. He groped around in the dark till he found a plastic bag. He opened the bag and pulled out what was inside it. Then, he froze.
"But.. but this is a foot. A human foot," he said. He had turned white and the words were barely coming out of his mouth.
"I know," the man replied, "I was in the mood for a leg-piece tonight." He raised the lantern to illuminate his face. He had no eyeballs and his mouth was smeared with something that looked a lot like blood. The cook screamed, dropped the foot and started running, knocking over the eyeless man in the process. A number of candles had miraculously lit up the main hallway of the house and what he saw made his blood curdle. A trail of fresh blood smeared the floor, as if someone with a heave bleed had staggered across the hallway.
The main door was in the direction of the blood trail, but he had no choice but to follow it if he wanted to get out of there. He ran. The door was just around the corner. As soon as he made the turn he froze, and screamed again. One of the geeks was standing beside the door with his face covered in blood and the hilt of a dagger jutting out of his forehead. He was laughing like a maniac. Without thinking or waiting to take stock, the cook threw his weight against the nearest window and landed heavily in the lawn outside.
He staggered to his feet and looked back at the window. A skeleton with glowing orbs for eyes was waving at him. He screamed again, turned around and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. Needless to say, he never came back.
The sounds of hysterical laughter from inside the house could be heard even after he was long gone.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Him and Her
He is at a party with his friends, trying his best to enjoy himself. But every now and then the thought of her pops up in his mind. And with her comes sadness and anger. He thinks about binging, but controls himself and pushes her out of his mind. But she's always there, lurking beneath the surface of his thoughts, ready to pop up again at the slightest provocation.
He steps outside to light a cigarette with his friends. He sees happy couples walking arm in arm, and he misses her. He sees how well the girls are dressed, and thinks how beautiful she would look had she been here with him. He hopes she's having a good time, wherever she is.
She is returning to town tomorrow, but he doesn't know whether to be happy or sad. She hasn't been returning his calls or replying to his emails for the past few days. He has a horrible feeling inside, a feeling that says she is not coming back to him. But the human in him doesn't want to accept even the possibility of that being true. A tiny voice inside his head says that she is coming back to him, and she has a pleasant surprise in store.
He curses her, flicks out his cigarette, and steps back inside to concentrate on his drinks.
He steps outside to light a cigarette with his friends. He sees happy couples walking arm in arm, and he misses her. He sees how well the girls are dressed, and thinks how beautiful she would look had she been here with him. He hopes she's having a good time, wherever she is.
She is returning to town tomorrow, but he doesn't know whether to be happy or sad. She hasn't been returning his calls or replying to his emails for the past few days. He has a horrible feeling inside, a feeling that says she is not coming back to him. But the human in him doesn't want to accept even the possibility of that being true. A tiny voice inside his head says that she is coming back to him, and she has a pleasant surprise in store.
He curses her, flicks out his cigarette, and steps back inside to concentrate on his drinks.
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