My English teacher appointed me a little writing project and so hereβs a little shard of it.Β
The Pier
25th of December, The Party
I limp solitarily to the river, leaving Alex worried and alone in the hall where drunk young adults fool around. I must have had three or four shots of god knows what but I canβt allow myself to face the failure I have brought to myself from failing Basils class. I stagger along the meadow when I find myself in front of the shed used by art students. My eyes catch a boat hook by the door and I stare at it, confused why this would be outside the shed. My hands grab it and I use it as my walking aid.Β
My head suddenly is plagued with Professor Basilβs chastise from earlier. He tells me how Iβve been a huge disappointment. How I always fail to remember that this University is an immensely prestigious institution.Β
My skin burns from his voice in my head.Β
I look up and stare at the stars and before I even realise Iβm standing before the dΓ©modΓ© pier.Β
PresentΒ
I lift my heavy lids as my chamber is suffused with the cool breath of dawn. Suddenly, I hear a chilling shriek coming from outside. I run quickly to my window and I see a sea of students hasten down the pier. My feet hurried towards the chaos happening outside. It is still dark, the sun barely peeking from the horizon, the air cold. I push my way through the crowd of young adults still wearing their lavish sleepwear. I see Professor Cavill pull out something large and solid from the freezing water. When Iβm ahead of everyone, I can see the entire scene unfold.Β
Cavill drags out something solid from the body of water but his large figure blocks me from seeing. The stench of putrefaction hits me. I almost gag at the foul scent. I cover my mouth and turn my head when I recognise the boy standing still next to me.Β
Itβs Alex.Β
His face is pale and Iβm sure he recognises me too but desires to not acknowledge me. I look back at the Professor as he stands in distress. When he shifts I finally see it.
A corpse.
There in display for my drowsy eyes, a pale, distorted and drenched corpse.
My knees almost give out when I realise who it is. It was my professor. Professor Basil.Β
My body fails to react to the circumstance. I force myself to take in his poor state. His white shirt soaked in blood, something grotesque pierced through his heart.Β
My stomach turns when I recognise it. I begin to tremble and my head turns to Alex but he still wonβt look at me.
Students stare in sorrow at the corpse as silence lingers us.
But I stare at the boat hook carved passionately in his chest.
