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annayawchee:
Nice one boss

7


Detention wasn't as dull as many people rumored. Mr. Lapwing seemed a good man. At least he didn't allow Vince to help with fitting in the books back to their shelves.
For the first one hour of detention, he kept giving useful bits of information that made the three hours worthwhile.
Spending detention at the library was a plus, something the teacher hadn't thought would benefit Vince. He got the chance to interview Mr. Lapwing for nothing in return. The man preferred Vince just stayed there, doing nothing, only watching as he took care of the library.
“Mr. Lapwing, what do you think about everything that's been going on in the school for a while? Do you think there have been some irregularities, or is it just me?”
“I wouldn't really know what you're talking about, Vince. Usually, the school has a lot of these occurrences. Nothing abnormal.”
“And there's been nothing that seems off to you? For instance, the library now sees more students coming in to read. This, I imagine, wasn't so much like this in the past.”
“I don't know how you would know that, but that's the truth. When I came here at first, I was understudy librarian number one. In the library, you scarcely had up to ten people at any given time. Now, things have changed. But they have been so long that now it seems normal. I don't know why you should just be noticing it.”
“That's because I'm just coming to the school, “Vince said.
A blatant lie. However, Mr. Lapwing didn't know and wouldn't care much to find the truth.
“What do you say your name is again?”
“Vince. Vince Lance.”
“Doesn't ring any bell. This would only mean that you aren't well known, not overly intelligent, or not so troublesome. I would know people from those categories. Tell you what son, it's always better to keep your head low and to focus on your studies. And get out of here with as little hiccups as possible. That's my two cents.”
Vince nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
He wasn't faking it. Vince was grateful for the discussion. He wished he could have more talks with the man. Maybe he could help him with some information he sought.
“What do you think about Mr. Lance?”
It was alarming to see the change in the man's visage. His face folded into a frown quickly. Now, he peered down into a book, acting like he hadn't heard.
Vince asked a second time.
“Mr. Lapwing, what do you think about Mr. Lance?”
“Huh?”
“Mr. Lance, the former principal.”
“What about him?” He didn't look up from the book.
“How well do you know him?”
He put the book down and idly rubbed his palms together. “Well, I wouldn't say I knew him very much. He and I did not get along well.”
Another lie. Vince knew Mr. Lance visited the library very often during his time, had even made donations from his own pocket to get more books for the library. No way would he not have a relationship with Mr. Lance.
Mr. Lapwing was hiding secrets, things he didn't want Vince to find out.
Vince played along. “I understand. Not everyone likes books, right?
“Right.”
“It's somewhat confusing. I can't seem to figure. Word has it that you and he were pretty close. They even said you used to spend a lot of time together in the past, discussing things, especially in writing spells, and all that.”
“Where did you hear that from?”
Vince shrugged. “A little here. A little there.”
“You see, we didn't get along well, but I respected his love for books. I had good connections to get books, and he liked that, used me to get quite some titles.”
“Oh!”
“Yes. Besides, I wasn't lead librarian then. We had many. I rarely ever attended to him as he preferred to talk to the others, especially females.”
“Totally misconstrued,” Vince said, pretended to be shocked.
“I never really liked him that much, you know. He was all shades of trouble. From the first time I saw him, I knew he had a lot of damage in him.”
“And look how he's gone missing. Months have passed, and no hope of seeing him again.”
“I sometimes feel sorry for him. Despite all the damming things that have gone on about him, you'll find he had a good heart. Maybe he didn't really show that part very well.”
“Only you say that,” Vince chipped in.
“Yes. Because a lot of people don't know him, people who are not open to such good news.”
Mr. Lapwing drew closer. “I believe his apparent disappearance would have been no fault of his. What we should all be doing at this point is praying for him to be safe wherever he is, not going around spreading rumors and trying to beat dead cows.”
Vince would say 'dead horse' but didn't know how the man would react to correction.
“When you said dead cows, do you mean like he's dead?” Vince asked.
“You're trying to draw it out of my mouth, boy. Don't think I'm not intelligent enough to know that. I never once said Mr. Lance could be dead. I was only using a figurative expression. You want my advice? Let bygones be bygones. Don't go about chasing shadows. You might be surprised to know what lurks in the dark. Be careful, young man.”
“Alright. I'm going to be careful. I have my own ideas about reality and what will happen. It's the idea I'm working on.”
Mr. Lapwing nodded.
Vince continued. “I'm not going to stop until I've have gotten some solid information.”
“Then, you better be careful, young man. Be careful and watch your back.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Vince said, glancing at his wristwatch and discovering detention was over.
Even as he walked out of the library, he could sense the librarian's eyes were boring holes on his back.
Vince was going to take his words. He was going to watch his back.

6


Vince risked getting an accident. He could injure someone if he didn't observe caution.
It had been a week since Vince last spoke to Mrs. Mantel, promising to do everything in his power to look for Crayon. So far, he hadn't gotten to any milestone. Because of this, he'd been avoiding catching the woman's eyes whenever they were at dinner or taking nightly breeze outside the house. He tried as much as possible to avoid starting a conversation with her that will lead to that area. He didn't want to disappoint the woman. It was good to see she was finally coming out of her shell to interact with them. He didn't want to break her heart by telling her he had made no headway.
Vince's mind came back to the present after the flash of thoughts. He had an issue here. There were no second chances to succeed. The first chance you get, you take it.
The other boy, Nathan, had his hands spread out, preparing for the attack. A vicious look colored his pudgy face.
Vince smiled. From the look of things, he wouldn't be the one making the first move, just the way he liked it.
Like a lion, he would wait, carefully watching the Nathan, his prey, learning his movement, when and where to pounce and win the duel.
The duel had been Mr. Venture's idea. It was one of the practical classes Vince didn't enjoy attending. The issue he had was that with the things going on, his emotions were unstable.
Unstable visions are the recipe for a false start. Dangerous ones.
“Weaken your opponent,” Mr. Venture had said. “Do it clean, and I don't want any games. Is that understood?”
The boys nodded. Nathan had his dentition displayed, smiling like a simpleton.
This guy thinks he will win a duel against me, Vince thought.
How outrageous!
The truth, Vince knew, was that he was no match. Not the least bit. No one in the school was as good as he was in sparring. This was something he had been learning quite a lot before getting caught in the Outworld. Coming back here, he'd quickly come to realize that no one could match up to his ability. Even back then, he had already been scored a reputation as one of the best in one-on-one duels.
What made this guy think he could be better?
“On the count of three, you begin. One. Two-”
Nathan didn't allow the third to come before he launched his spell at Vince.
“Duriantis!”
The surprise attack caught Vince off guard. He was flung back, down, and hard on the floor. This attracted a lot of wild grins and laughter from the other classmates, especially the ladies. Vince couldn't hide his hurt. His bottom hurt like someone had clobbered him with a hammer.
Vince looked to the teacher, but there was a look of defiance. It had been a clear breach of the rules. However, the teacher made no attempt to call the bluff.
Was that the way he wanted it?
Vince got up, shook off the dust. He was ready to repay the gesture.
Nathan's friends continued cheering him on. Clearly, no one thought what he did was wrong.
Vince could bet everyone would be counting on Nathan to win now.
“That's one to nothing,” the teacher said. “Remember, the person with the highest wins of three attempts wins this set.”
“Alright,” Vince murmured, taking a stance. This time, all of his attention was on the boy.
The teacher counted. “One. Two-”
Before it got to the third ring, Vince acted.
“Draco Miazin!”
Spells, like spikes, shot out of Vince's hand. They went straight for his unsuspecting opponent. The boy got crumpled into a ball-like form. He got pushed back with so much force, he couldn't stop himself. It took him outside the classroom, through the door, and down the staircase.
Everyone stopped. Vince couldn't understand their reaction.
Aren't you guys going to give me the applause?
Vince's face was all red in seconds. This was clearly wrong. It was cheating.
Nobody moved. Not even the teacher. Vince didn't expect that reaction from them. If they'd clapped for Nathan, they should be on their feet throwing encomium. Instead, they stood looking at him like they'd been mummified.
There was nothing wrong. Absolutely. Nothing different from what Nathan did. He had simply modified Nathan's approach.
“What was that for?” the teacher asked, enraged.
Vince looked stupefied. “What?”
“Don't even give me that. Don't you dare it.”
The man's anger was clearly visible. His wrath only added to his lackluster appearance. His nose was red all over and shook his finger, pointing at Vince.
“That wasn't what I said at the beginning. Was it? I told you both to play it square. You outright disobeyed my orders.”
“Huh, what I did was wrong, but what Nathan did wasn't?”
“I know you won't feel remorse. But, you have detention. You will spend the rest of the day in detention, and you will offer staffing service. Any more of this attitude and you will get thrown out, never to return. Do you understand?
Vince kept his eyes low - anger, not allowing him to meet the teacher's gaze - and nodded. “Yes. I understand.”
That said, the teacher ran out to meet with Nathan. The chap was holding his back, as though he'd been hit repeatedly with a baton. Blood, crimson thick, oozed from the back of his head. Vince predicted he would need serious medical attention. He'd be out for some days, at least.
Vince couldn't understand why the boy had taken the hit that bad. He hadn't even used force. As he'd sent the spell out, he'd meant to get the boy down on the floor, the same way it happened to him. Then, they would have been ready for the real deal.
What he didn't expect was the escalation of the effort. He didn't expect that he'd been charged with anger. He had taken it on the boy. Now, he regretted trying revenge.
Nathan, helped by three students, was taken to the school's clinic.
Vince noticed there'd been a change ever since the new principal came into power. It seemed things were now working against him.
As Vince packed up his backpack to go, he could only think about the four hours ahead. He’d never gotten detention at the library. Those who had said it was a pain in the ass.
There was only one positive, something he could take as a good thing. He would get to spend time with Mr. Lapwing. The man had information, and Vince knew he wouldn't feel out of place there.

annayawchee:
Seen thanks.

I downloaded epub reader!!

Thanks

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
Pabon, this is becoming interesting.

5

Mrs. Mantel lay in bed all day. She didn't heed any plea to have some food. As the days went by, she got leaner, and her isolation was already taking a toll on her.
“Mrs. Mantel, you can’t continue like this,” Vince said one morning when he got into her room.
Mrs. Mantel didn't even look up. She was awake all right but just stared at the ceiling.
“It is not the end of the world. Be strong for your son. I know you're going through a lot at the moment. It is very understandable. However, you cannot continue punishing yourself like this. What happened wasn’t your fault. You weren’t in your best state of mind. There’s only so much you could have done. You need to stop beating yourself. You need to eat something.”
“Vince, I know you care about me,” she answered at last, much to Vince’s contained excitement, “but I don't want to deceive me. My life is gone. Look at me,” she said, pointing down at her body. “I’m not getting any younger. Terrible things keep happening to me. All my life has been full of sorrows. It's been one disappointment to the other.”
She wiped the tear that rolled down her eyes. “I lost my husband. Then my boy. Now, my life is in shambles.”
“There's hope yet, mum. Don't think Crayon is lost. I believe, strongly, that he is alive somewhere. I feel that things are going to change. I promise you I will do everything in my ability to look for Crayon.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I will put all the elements I possess to good use. Also, I have found some others in school, intelligent friends. They will join me in the search. I'm confident we can do a good job. We will stop at nothing to bring Crayon back.”
“Again, thank you for your concern for my son. However, I don't want you to be. It’s been weeks since his disappearance. What hope is there?”
“Don't be like this, Mrs. Mantel. Crayon is a strong guy. I believe that wherever he is, he is safe or trying to be. What we need is to cook up a plan to get him back to you. I'm confident we can bring him back.”
“I hope so. I really hope so.”
“Everything will be alright,” Vince said, checking her temperature. She looked weak, but her body was warm. “What would you like to eat? I can cook something or have one of the ladies do so.”
She smiled. “Maybe some other time. But when it's my first time to taste food after several days, I'd better not eat anything you prepare. I'd rather not eat anything.”
Vince chuckled at Mrs. Mantel’s attempted humor. She was coming back to herself. “I'm not that bad. See, I have greatly improved. You need to try out some of my new dishes to believe.”
“Whatever, but please, let someone else do the cooking.”
Vince got up and headed for the door. He hadn’t expected to be this successful persuading the woman. Yet, he had done it.
The truth, though, was that he didn’t have anyone else to rely upon to help search for Crayon. He had said that to encourage the woman. However, he meant it when he said he was going to help get Crayon back. Whatever it would take, he was ready to pay the price.
Vince went straight to meet Thelma. She was now occupying the room that Mrs. Mantel shared with the former principal. Crayon's mother had said she couldn't bear to stay in the place as it brought back so many memories she would rather forget. Thelma liked the room. It was the only one available for her use, after all.
He found her engrossed in some novel. It was just like he remembered. Thelma would sit on the edge of her bed, sometimes late into the night, reading one of those romantic books. These love stories never attracted Vince. He loved reality and not some made-up stuff to tickle readers’ fancy.
Although he would love his sister to keep reading, he needed her to cook.
Mabel was another option, but he'd eaten foods cooked by either lady, and he found Thelma's better. It came as a surprise seeing as she'd never been allowed to do any cooking at the palace.
Black and burnt. That was the name of the book. “What is it about?”
Smiling, Thelma looked up. “It’s about Jones, a black American who goes through hell to be with the woman he loves. I'm almost done. I'll tell you all about it when I finish.”
“Thanks. But, no, thanks. I can do without all these made-up romance. What I want you to do is to cook something.”
“You’d have to do it yourself, Vince,” Thelma said, returning to her love tales. “I should have known you didn’t have something more serious to say when you walked in. Go and cook yourself.”
“I can’t. I’m not doing this for myself. Mrs. Mantel has finally agreed to take something. She needs good food, not something made by me.”
“Oh, so you are admitting your culinary skills are next to nothing?”
“I didn’t say so. She just doesn’t want to eat my food.”
“Shouldn't that tell you something?”
“No. It doesn't. Look, are you doing it or not?”
“Have you asked Mabel?”
“No. I prefer your food.”
She blushed. “It’s just that this book would become less interesting next time I come to it.”
“It won’t. That’s if it was interesting in the first place.”
“Alright then, professor. I will cook the food if it makes you stop talking trash about my book.
“I’m not talking again.”
Thelma folded the page where she had stopped. She got up and headed for the door.
“Wait. Come to think of it. I’m your big sister. You should know there is a limit to what I’m willing to do for you.”
“I understand. Now, will you get going?”
“You’re not ordering me out. Are you?”
“Please…Satisfied now?”
Thelma pouted and headed out to the kitchen. Vince took the book up. He peered at the back page, hoping to read something interesting. Thelma came into the room at that moment.
“Not interested. Right? Yet, you can’t wait a minute to read it.”
“I just wanted to see the synopsis.”
“Liar,” Thelma said, poking Vince’s head before running away.
Vince ran after her, pursuing her into the kitchen.

4.


When Thelma woke up again, Vince was there. And although she still exhibited signs of her madness, he managed to get her to listen to him.
He’d explained how that Mabel had jumbled Thelma’s memories to protect them from her. His sister hadn’t taken it easy, threatening to wipe Mabel from the surface of the earth. Still, he’d managed to get her to sit down without throwing things around.
When they began talking, Vince was thrilled. It was a moment of epiphany.
Getting to sit and talk to his elder sister was the best thing he could have wished. Her memories were coming back now. The potions he had carefully prepared -and forced down her throat as she slept- were beginning to take effect.
Vince told her how glad he was to see her. He told her he wanted to know everything, from how she had been captured to where she went and why Thelma looked like she'd aged twenty years ahead.
“You won’t believe what happened to me even if I told you.”
“Try me,” Vince said, nudging her onwards. His patience these days sat on a thin line. Yet, he would wait. Besides, this was Thelma, his beloved sister. Hearing her voice was giving him goosebumps. It was just the way he remembered it, even though she was still a little shaken.
Thelma gave an account of what happened the years she was away. Vince shook his head. He sighed and laughed and cried at times.
“I was taken away by three masked men. They took me to a safe house somewhere outside of Pongash. There, I was put through all manner of stuff you can’t imagine. I went through most of these things without food.”
“Say what?”
Thelma smiled. “Yeah. That’s how they wanted it. They had their reasons for only giving me solid food once in two days. They wanted to erase it from my mind that I was a princess.”
“Did they succeed?”
“Pretty much. They did.”
“Damn.”
“They did it, for a while. When I came out, I was willing to stay out of that place. I mean anything. Slave, whoring, even killing.”
“Oh, dear. That's so bad.”
“That’s why I said you couldn’t imagine the horrible things I went through. What haven’t I done to survive? They wouldn't have it any other way.”
“What are the things you talking about here?”
“Do you really want to hear the details?”
“Yes,” Vince replied, not stopping to consider.
“Let it slide.”
“Trust me, no matter how bad a person you might have been, I can handle it. I promise I won't judge you, no matter what.
“Okay, then,” she said, looking into his eyes. Vince thought the trust could be seen there.
“I killed. Lots of people. Like a freaking hell lot of people. I killed men, women, and even deleted kids.”
Vince struggled to hide the surprise in his eyes. These were the sort of things he wouldn't even believe in his dreams, let alone coming from his sister.
She continued. “You can’t imagine, Vince. That was the only way I could get going. It’s the only way I could survive. I watched as a lot of people got killed before me because of their refusal to obey the instructions. I didn't want to die, Vince.”
She was sobbing now. Vince took her trembling hands. He brought her head to lean on his shoulder and stroked her hair.
“I can understand, Mabel.”
“Can you, really?” she asked, bringing her head to look into his eyes. “Ever killed someone before? Have you had blood splatter across your face, your clothes, and having to deal with the smell, the torment they brought?”
Vince hesitated. He lowered her head to his shoulder again. Vince’s voice came out disjointed when he spoke. “Well, a lot of things have happened to me too. I may have killed one or two persons.”
Thelma turned to look at Vince, her eyes bulging. “Are you kidding me? You've done that?”
Vince nodded.
“When?” Her voice came out excited. She was intrigued that she didn’t have to share the guilt alone, interested in what Vince had to say.
But he wasn’t. He didn’t want the discussion to be about him. He still needed a lot of clarification on stuff that happened to her.
“I’d rather not tell, Thelma,” Vince said, his voice conveying his mind.
Thelma didn’t push it. She’d changed from the girl that would have poked and probed for more, Vince observed.
He looked at, catching her eyes and smiling. “I want to hear more about you.
“Why? None of these things are interesting.”
“Are you kidding me? You have stories that everyone would want to hear.”
Thelma fiddled with a thread on her skirt. “Well, maybe that’s true. What do you want to hear specifically?”
“Everything.”
“Maybe after I hear something about you?”
She hadn’t lost all of it then.
“Mine’s been boring. I ran away. Came here with an arrow protruding from my back. I met the lovely Mrs. Mantel. She may not seem like it now, but she was delightful, as sweet and kind as mum was.”
“I see.”
“Yeah. Then, there was a prophecy. It said I have an uncommon destiny.”
Thelma smiled. “They said that to me too.”
“Does any of that relate to killing your own brother?”
Thelma frowned. “Don't make fun out of it, Vince. It's a sensitive issue.”
“Sorry.”
She shifted. “I think differently after the prophecy, yours anyway.”
“You do.”
“Yes. I have seen the scroll. Powerful stuff. However, I think most of it is untrue. Or misinterpreted. They do it intentionally. They are looking for a way to put an end to your part of the prophecies so they could get the powers for themselves.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, I am. I’ve thought about it over and over and over and over again. The only rational explanation is that there's something wrong.”
“You’re right, Thelma.”
“Of course, I'm right. Haven't you noticed it? People want to put you down so badly, they want to get rid of you. I read the prophecy. A lot of it isn't right. There's a lot that happened to you that doesn’t align.”
“I wish I could have seen the Prophecy for myself.”
“Not really, you don’t. I will tell you all about it as we go on. Flirting with this prophecy will get you killed faster. And, there is stuff there that would make you shudder and want to give up your life before they come true. You don't want to see those, Vince. Horrible things have been said will happen to you.”
“Seriously speaking?”
Thelma nodded.
Vince was mortified. That was putting it mildly. Already, he was beginning to have fear. It was all the more reason he needed to read the scroll. He was going to find a way to do that somehow. But for now, listening to Thelma was the only thing he wanted to do.

annayawchee:
I sent another mail

annayawchee:
I sent a mail

Stay safe bro!

11

Tasmine spent the next three days frying her brains out, trying to decipher the markings on the first page where the crazy lettering started. For all her efforts, she got nothing. She got frustrated repeatedly and had almost given in to thoughts of shredding the book to pieces, page by page, and then burning the remains. She would have given up were it not for her desire, the unquenchable anxiety to know what her dad had been meaning to tell her he couldn’t trust others to pass the message across.
Was this the reason they murdered him?
She had woken up Tuesday, 3 am, not being able to get much sleep as her mind never gave her a moment's peace. Tasmine had lifted the duvet from off her face after several attempts to fall back to wonderland and had made for the kitchen, phone in hand, where she prepared herself a steaming cup of coffee. It was all she could do to keep her from running berserk.
She sat herself down on the kitchen table drinking away absentmindedly. A notification came into her phone signifying she’d received a Facebook message. She brought out her phone and saw the email notification icon. She clicked on it and saw that they had given her the job she was interviewed for. She didn't know whether to be happy or sad. Not that she needed the job. This was just a sacrifice to make good the promise she made to her father's spirit.
A thought came to her mind, and she followed it.
She emptied the rest of her coffee into the sink and rinsed the cup. She then made way for her late father's room. They had kept the room locked and unused on her mother’s request. This time, Curtis had left the key inside lock. After all, there wasn't anything precious that had to be kept locked away, even from family members.
Tasmine pulled down the handle as quietly as she could and got in. She got entangled in cobwebs even as her eyes adjusted to the darkness they met. She groped in the dark, running her hands along the wall feeling for the light switch.
When she found it, she immediately flicked it on. Light, like a thick blanket, immediately chased away the darkness, revealing the entire room. It was as she remembered it. The bed and dresser were in the same position. She walked towards the bookshelf where her dad had often brought out books to soothe her desires to learn stories.
She found her favorite storybook, the one with a shark for a hero. She opened the first page and wept into it.

fattprince:
Amount you charge sir

fattprince:
Please like how much do you write?