idk⌠what this is eitherâŚÂ ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
your phone rings. thereâs a helicopter on the helipad to pick you up. your seatmateâs phone rings to tell them the same. all your classmatesâ phones are ringing to tell them thereâs a helicopter to pick them up, even the ones that donât have helicopters. when you all climb up the helipad, you all find a yacht instead.
the tarn calls. it is always not-quite-frozen, even during the hottest summers and the coldest winters. it is almost like a siren-song. you ask yourself if this was what frederick wells heard in his last moments.
itâs tradition, they say, when you ask why you are being hazed. itâs always been like this and always will be. the smile when they say that is too-wide, their teeth too-white and too many for that mouth. when you parrot always? their laughter sounds like birds shrieking.
your dormitory is in the east wing. you sleep soundly in your first night here. when the senior student gives you a map the following morning, you look down only to realise that there are no wings.
the tarn calls. your roommate meets you at the end of your class to tell you itâs safe for skating now. you tell him to go on ahead and that you need to put down your stuff in your room first. when you get to your dorm, you see your roommate fast asleep. you head back to the lake with your heart pounding in your chest, and you throw a stone across the not-quite-frozen lake. the ice crumbles under the weight and you realise that if you had stepped there, you would have fallen to its icy depths.
you do not know where your professor sleeps at night. you only see them during your classes and only ever in your classes. you do not see them anywhere else. the map doesnât say if thereâs a faculty housing somewhere in the campus.
youâre an international student and so is your roommate. your classes are filled with international students. even the janitor is an international student. you donât think youâve ever seen a swiss person.
when your adviser hands you your curriculum, you notice the lack of science classes. when you ask why, he tells you that itâs because there is no science in saint augustine. he is floating as he says this. you are floating as well. there is no science in saint augustine, you tell yourself, almost as a reminder.
thereâs a costume party going on in the wine cellar and almost everybody but you were dressed up as monks. you wake up with a hangover and you tell your roommate about yesterday night and ask them why they werenât there. they frown and tell you that there was no party last night. under your bed, you find a crumpled cowl.
the townspeople look at you. they stare, and they are silent as you walk through town. you stare at them right back and wonder who is the real monster here.
the orchestra is practising. all day and all night, you hear them play that haunting melody. when you complain to a friend of yours about the lack of variety, she tells you that the orchestra hasnât practiced for a while now.
the tarn calls. you know that will have to answer it soon.
