Whao, had forgotten about this, looks okay, well, updates will come now.

Author note: Had nothing to do and no active manuscript, bored,so writing this and letting it flow as it will. Think it might get big but not sure. Read like a child and follow a life, it's more fantasy, school, magic perhaps, romance perhaps (if requested) and a host of other genres, Nigerian in flavour but with influences from a wide scope. The style is unconventional and the prose lilting but it will be fun.

All rights reserved, this story should not be shared, copied or modified in any form whatsoever or recreated across electronic, technological and written platforms, formats and interfaces.
Permissions, if any will be given, can be sought by contacting the author.

INTRO: Shards of Mischief

The air hums with the twang of the cane and I grunt as it tears a new line of fire across my back. The principal steps forward from where she stood by the door looking at me not unkindly.

"That's enough, Mr cole".

Eyeing me evilly, he stalks out of the class, face as dark as thunderclouds, the principal searches my face and I look anywhere but at her. Sighing, she gestures wordlessly for me to follow and exits the class, my classmates mummur as I plod out after, warily making sure I was out of her springing range.

I wouldn't blame mr Cole for being angry but he had crossed a line, the new regulations forbid beating a student due to new child right laws but Mr Cole is part of the old guard and thinks the education system is going soft.

Head down, i stare at my torn socks and equally woebegone school wear. This had been the bone of contention, Mr Cole demands that all students in class A be neat, well-behaved and clean as rain (not that rain is that clean). I have only one pair of school wear which I had to wear every day of the week, so there you have it, Mr Cole took offence.

Everyday, for about 2 weeks, he picked me to answer questions, clean the board, go pick the class assignments, stand without sitting in class and on. School became even more miserable, had my revenge though, got super bond from the library on pretexts of a teacher needing it.

I set to work his table, smeared it on the underside of his desk, his chair and its legs. It doesn't fully bond until it comes in contact with a material (Mr. Cole's trouser), setting it up during recess, he came back in a rush, crashed down unto his work space and began rummaging around.

Hiding a grin between my fingers, I ease out of the class without him signalling as the bell rings signalling the end of recess. I idle around for a bit and then return to class among the stragglers and meet a scene of hilarious confusion.

It is better than I imagined, Mr Cole had obviously tried to stand and found himself unable to do so, trying to get his legs out also proved a problem, they were equally stuck, now he partially stood in a turtle like crouch, chair stuck to his his butt and table on his legs.

My classmates were gathered around, chattering excitedly with titters and giggles escaping. Some guys approached him with the intention and I watched carefully aware that some smears of the bond still lingered in spots, as I guessed, two soon had their hands stuck and things got pretty serious.

One of them immediately burst into tears and I cram my hand in my mouth to muffle the laughter bubbling out, crybaby I thought. Some sharp individual soon decided the staff needed to know and next you know, the principal came around with the head teacher.

The news spread like wildfire and soon our class is crowded with staff and students alike trying to get a peek, it is success beyond my expectations. The staff themselves had a grin before turning attention to extrication, Mr Cole doesn't relax, I tell you.

Eventually they had to call the school clinic, medics came with substances that dissolved the bond slightly and allowed the boys wiggle their hands wiggle free. Mr Cole however was a difficult matter, you see, (grinning widely, they had to cut him out of his trousers and we all saw his boxers underwear and it was a pink (imagine, ) Perry Cole, it had a cute flying pigs pattern.

He was furious and the medics gave him a towel to cover up as soon as they got him out. He left for home in the school bus still swaddled in the towel

Investigations commenced on the possible culprit and the top bond was traced back to the library, the name recorded there in the register was Mr Cole as the teacher in need of it (he used it, of course). Needless, the poor soul who did the disgraceful act was never caught and Mr Cole itched bitterly for revenge.

The backlash was on me, which is why i went on the offence again and why he had lashed me in anger.

"Here we are", the principal intones from ahead and I snap out of my thoughts, glancing up, she hold the the door ajar and gestures me to enter. Hunching my shoulders, I step into the office and she swings the door shut. The sound sends shivers down my spine, it rouses up memories, things that whispered in the dark, dry fields and a burning afternoon.

"Have a seat".

She says, startling me.

"We have a lot to discuss".

She says with a glint in her eyes and I sink down, eye downcast with stones of worry roiling around. The silence that follows is oppressive. I glance up and freeze shell-shocked, the principal has changed (yes, maybe like transformed, I guess), she glows in the slightly dim office, clad in white robes and a wreath on her brows.

My heart hammers on my ribcage as she leans forward slightly and smiles conspirationally.

"So boy, what have you been up to?".

My mouth is as dry as the Sahara and much more arid.

Updates: Follow a lot of stories and I understand the -itch for updates, can't promise anything but will not abandon, this has a long way to go and so many worlds to explore, I hope I have time.

I stood in line, nose buried in my paper, waiting for the train, the bell rang and I stepped into it, picking a seat, I settle into the leather cushions, continue to read, look up to see all around me, zombies in various stages of decay, they were all smiling.

There is a graveyard down the street, everyday at 6am, its guard waves me on my way to work, every Saturday, certain church members cleaned the grounds, on Wednesday, a beautiful lady brought flowers, yesterday, I was walking past it with my pastor, he remarked "the graveyard is bushy and deserted, no one ever comes to visit".