The Boarding School

"What is it son?"

"I keep seeing these figures of red and black. I think they are the creatures of fire, sir. I am scared."

"It's just the devil whispering to you. Be faithful and say your prayers then the devil will give up and go away. You have nothing to be scared about. Now, go to your classes and forget about your dreams. Pray, my son, pray."

The little scared 11-year-old boy left the councillor's office with little relief. The bell had already rung, so he hurried back to his class. His class teacher was a nasty old man. He never took kindly to his class being interrupted, especially by one of his students who should have already be in the classroom. He himself was never late, even when he was sick.

He ran to the front of the classroom door and stopped. He was terrified to find it shut. He wanted to run away, go to his secretive little hiding space in the school garden, between the school wall and the building. But he knew that would only make things worse. He could've faked sickness, that he vomited and that's why he was late, but his teacher was an excellent lie detector. Plus, he didn't reek of vomit.

So, there was only one other option: to tell the truth, tell that he was with the councillor and he was there because he was afraid of his dreams. He would be ridiculed for days by his classmates, and weeks by his teacher. The time was running and he couldn't think any more options or he would be even later. He knocked on the white coated wooden door reluctantly and went inside.

"Ali, my boy," teacher said with a surprized tone and continued, "where were you?"

"I- uh."

He tried to think of an answer, but his mind was halted by fear.

"Cat got your tongue? Speak."

"I-I didn't notice the bell had rang, sir."

"Really," teacher questioned sarcastically.

"You didn't hear the loud bell? Why, what were you doing?"

Ali was terrified. So terrified that he was hardly keeping his tears away and sweat was starting to pour down from his forehead.

"I was in the toilet, sir."

Slight chuckle came from some of the boys in the classroom, but a sharp glare from the teacher shut it up.

"And what were you doing in the toilet?"

"Sir?" the little boy let out with an insecure voice.

He couldn't say he was peeing, for he would be in there too long and the teacher would call it a lie. He also couldn't say he was going big or the students would make fun of him. But there wasn't a third option, so he chose his friends mockery of him over a potential beating from his teacher.

"I was- I was doing number two, sir."

Again, a slight chuckle came from the classroom, but this time it was interrupted by the teacher's shouting:

"Number two, is that right? Don't lie to your teacher. You were smoking weren't you? Hold out your hand."

The boy wanted to oppose, but he knew it would be in vain. He knew his teacher would do whatever once he decided he should and he would never show lenience to his students. That's why the kids nicknamed him "Gaddar Gaddaf." His name was Gaddaf, which sounded like "gaddar," which meant merciless, ruthless.

The teacher took a thin red smooth stick from his desk and beckoned little Ali to approach him, and he did.

"I told you to hold out your hand."

Ali reluctantly held his hand out while looking down at the floor.

"Hold your fingers, make a pyramid."

And Ali did.

"Please sir, I won't do it again. I am sorry, I am sorry."

His teacher lifted his hand with the stick and landed it fast and hard on Ali's little fingers. A strong sound of wood hitting flesh and keratin that filled the whole classroom was immediately followed by the Ali's cries in pain. The teacher hit again. Tears ran down from Ali's reddened cheeks. And the teacher hit again, and again, and again. His left hand's fingers had first become red, then purple. He knew this pain well as he was punished the same way each time that he wrote with his ungodly hand.

"Now go, sit down and never lie to me again."

Ali walked to his seat while wiping his tears. His classmates' gazes were insult to his pain. He took his seat and buried himself in his desk. His head was too heavy to lift when he heard his teachers voice yelling, "Get your head up boy." He didn't want to look up, but he knew it would be much worse if he didn't obey. Ali lifted his head slowly while wiping his tears not so discretely, but he didn't see what he expected to see. The classroom was dark. He must've slept the entire day, but that would be impossible. Someone would have woken him up earlier. Surely his teacher wouldn't have let him sleep this long.

The lights were also out. There must have been a blackout. It happened twice this month. As Ali looked around the classroom, he saw all students were in the exact same position: sitting completely still and straight looking at the teacher. Ali noticed something else weird: All students were dark, darker than they should have been. Their skin almost looked like they were painted in coal black. Ali started to get frightened. He looked ahead to his teacher and saw his skin was blackened as well. Ali's little heart pounded at his chest.

"AaaaaalliiiiiiIIII," a mellow screech the teacher made.

The teacher turned around, revealing a pair of orange red shining eyes barely held by its ungodly face. Ali was horrified. What appeared to be his teacher raised his hand and pointed at him. Immediately after, the entire classroom turned their heads to Ali, all revealing blackened, fractured, shapeless faces with orange red eyes. Ali tried to stand up, but his legs failed him.

"Come to us Ali," the teacher spoke with a voice that would disgust the angels. It was distorted and low. Ali tried to stand up once more and succeeded, but as he did all the other students followed him. They were all looking at him with their unheavenly eyes.

"Don't fight it Ali, you are welcome here."

Ali looked at the classroom door and moved half a step to the side of the desk. All the students imitated him once again. The little boy was absolutely terrorized. He tried to pray, but his mouth was not moving. He touched his mouth, but could not find it. He panicked even further when he saw his arms. They were turning to absolute darkness. He moved towards the door, but the students all violently kicked their desks and chairs. Ali hesitated first, but his instinct to run took over and he dashed to the door. All the students ran to Ali and grabbed him, pulling him down. They piled on Ali as he fruitlessly tried to escape.

Ali felt his bones getting crushed. He tried to yell in pain but he couldn't. The creatures started to bite into his flesh, ripping apart huge chunks. The teacher threw some of the students away and held Ali's head, pulling it with immense force, then crushed it to the floor.

"Ali, wake up."

Ali opened his eyes and was relieved to see the classroom back to normal, and his classmates all regular. He was even glad that his ears were being pulled by his teacher rather than some creature.

"Go to bathroom, clean yourself up."

Ali didn't understand what his teacher meant by cleaning up. He also didn't understand why the classroom was laughing so much. Then he noticed his pants were wet.

"Didn't you hear me boy? Go clean up. You are 11 years old and still wetting yourself. Be ashamed of yourself. Now, go before I slap you."

Ali did as his teacher ordered. As he tried to clean himself up in vain with cheap wet toilet rolls, he silently cried and prayed:

"God, I am so sorry that I lied to my teacher, I am so sorry that I was late to class, and I am so sorry that I thought of that forbidden name and asked him for help. Please God, forgive me. Make these nightmares go."

"He is not here little boy."

Ali's spine shivered. He ran out of the bathroom without even looking behind. He went to the councillor's office and knocked fast while opening the door.

"Ali, what are you doing out of the class? And what happened to your pants?"

"I got them wet while washing my hands, sir," he said while regretting it instantly and continued, "Please help me sir. There is something following me."

"What are you talking about Ali?"

"I heard this voice in the bathroom sir, and I saw these creatures while I was sleeping in the classroom."

"Sleeping in the classroom? That is very disappointing of you Ali, and your teacher would not send anyone to bathroom during the class. So, go enter your class and stop lying. That is why you hear voices. Come on, go."


Ali left the councillor's room but didn't go back to the class. Instead, he got out to the school playground and went to his little hiding spot. He waited there for hours, until the last bell had rung. He had missed the dinner, but he wasn't hungry. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his mother, he wanted her to hold him and tell him he was okay. But she couldn't, not when she was in heaven.

After another hour, a pair of footsteps approached his hiding place. Ali went deeper into his little discrete spot. The footsteps stopped in front of his little gap and a hand reached out to him. He was pulled fast towards the person. Ali was relieved to find that it was the gatekeeper.

"Everyone was looking for you. The headmaster is furious with you. We are going to his office now, and he is gonna get you a beating."

The gatekeeper did as he said. He took him to the headmaster, an even nastier man.

"I found him headmaster. The kid was hiding in the gap behind the building."

Headmaster was talking to a sharply dressed man and he didn't really wanted to bother with a silly little kid that blew the class.

"No dinner for you boy, go to your dorm and sleep hungry. That will teach you to be naughty."

The gatekeeper grabbed his arm and walked him to the stairs.

"You are lucky the headmaster was busy. You should've been beaten."

The gatekeeper let him go. Ali got up the stairs not relieved even a little that the headmaster let himself go easy.

"Piss pants," some students called him as he walked the hallway.

Ali quickly walked through the hallway and entered his dorm room that had six beds.

"Don't piss yourself sleeping you moron. You'll stink the whole room," one of his roommates said as he pushed Ali to the door frame.

Ali took his shoes off and entered under the blanket. He wept silently as his roommates made fun of him. He lied on his wet pillow for hours without sleeping. The mockery was finally over and his roommates had gone to sleep. Ali relaxed and closed his eyes. He wanted to dream of his mother this night. That would make things better.

But that would not happen. His blanket was pulled away. His roommates would not let him rest. Ali sat up and leaned to take his blanket. He reached down but he couldn't find it. He looked around to see which roommate took it, but he couldn't see anyone. He could not see anyone in the room. He looked at the beds but they were all empty. Ali wanted to lie back down, but he had no blanked to hide under.

He stood up slowly and walked towards the door. The darkness was barely illuminated by the new moon. The power was out once more. Ali went out the dorm room and frightenedly walked through the hallway that was almost buried in the darkness. He came to the next dorm room and looked inside. He found the same image he found in his own room. Nobody was in there. So, Ali went forward.

The crippling fear sat behind his eyes. He was feeling that he was being observed. His breathing shortened. He looked at the next room, and again no one was there. This time as he left the room, a strong breaking sound came from inside. He looked again and saw a glimpse of red eyes. He immediately left the room and started running. As he ran, he saw another pair of red eyes leaving the next room. Pairs of footsteps were behind him. He turned around the corner and his teacher greeted him with his students at his side. Ali approached to the window as there was no other way to go. He taught he could climb down.

"Your mother is not in heaven Ali, she is with us. Come, and you will be together again."

The teacher took a step to the side and revealed a naked brunette woman.

"My son, we can be together again. You are one step away from me. I can hold you again, sing to you, kiss you. Just one step."

Her voice was distressing. Ali didn't know what to think, what to feel. He was only a child. And as all little children do when they were afraid, he listened to his mother.



* * * *



"Headmaster! Headmaster!"

"What is it? It is the middle of the night," he complained as he opened the door.

"One of your students, headmaster, he fell from the window," a teenager that was obviously sent by one of the teachers informed him.

"What? You wake me up for that? Just call an ambulance and I'll deal with him tomorrow."

"You don't understand sir; the child is dead."