Crap, crap, crap, I thought to myself. Mrs. Macrae was going to kill me for being late again.
The sound of my wet sneakers squeaked loudly throughout the empty halls. God, why'd it have to rain today? My hair was probably a curly mess, and don't even get me started on my wardrobe. Wrinkled t-shirt with mismatched shoes. You think I'd learn, but that never seemed to happen.
I skirted around the corner and ran right into my good buddy: Oliver Shepherd. Why wasn't he in class? The kid was often the punctual type.
We both bent down to recover the dropped books. All Oliver's, seeing as mine were in my backpack.
"Running late as usual?" he asked, a small smirk on his face.
"Slept in. What about you?"
"Got called down to the principal's office."
Once all the books were safely back in Oliver's arms, and both of us standing, I remarked, "Probably to give you some sort of award." He laughed stiffly.
"Well, I'll see you around. Go on and get to class before you get detention. Again." I smiled at my friend and said, "Okay, see ya around." A sigh escaped my throat as I jogged my way to my first period.
--
Surprisingly, Mrs. Macrae didn't give me detention. In fact, she wasn't even in the room yet. When I took my seat next to Theodore (aka Theo), I asked, "Where is she?""Mrs. Macrae? I dunno. Kinda odd, ain't it?"
I nodded and pulled out my textbook and a notebook to doodle in.
I drew the same thing I always did: My dad. Though he died a few years ago, I still thought about him constantly. It was as if he were. . .haunting me. Kind of like Thanatos haunted him.
Theo poked my side and pointed towards the door, which was opening. I guess Mrs. Macrae was coming in to start the lesson. Of course, she first went over the announcements then the geography lesson for today. Good God, how I hated geography.
As the lesson droned on, I thought about my dad and Thanatos. Last summer, I spent most of my days at the library researching the known medical conditions. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-II) is the book I leafed through, if I remembered right. A lot of the words were hard for me to understand, so I also had to keep a dictionary nearby.
Little did I know that Thanatos was much stronger than a mental disorder.
***
February ninth, 1954: A little boy named Holden sits beside brother, Rex.
"Are you sure we're allowed?" the little boy squeaks. Rex simply rolls his eyes and instructs Holden to, "place his fingers on the planchette and shut up for once."
Holden obeyed, though he felt funny when he put his fingers on the "planchette". "Is anybody there?" Rex asked.
The planchette didn't move.
"Rex," Holden began, "I don't think-"
"You're right. You don't think. So shut up." With a grimace on his face, Rex asked once again, "Is anybody there?"
The planchette refused to budge. Rex, who was always short tempered, grabbed the piece of plastic and threw it across the room. Under his breath he muttered words he wasn't allowed to say. Before Holden could do anything, Rex stormed down the stairs.
Now it was just the Ouija board and Holden. The boy didn't want to face the wrath of his brother, yet he didn't want to stay up here alone. Maybe he could sneak past his brother and get outside.
He was standing in front of the stairs when it happened. Something hard whacked him in the back of the head.
"Hey!" he shouted, turning to see what he had been struck with. His eyes went wide.
It was the planchette.
Before picking it up, he looked around the room for anybody that could have thrown it. Unsurprisingly, he was alone.
With the planchette in hand, the boy went over to the board.
"Is anybody there?" he questioned, hands nowhere near the planchette. A moment passed. Holden patiently waited for a response.
And he got one.
"Yes." That was the word the planchette moved to.
"What's your name?"
"T-H-A-N-A-T-O-S."
"Thanatos?"
"Yes."
"Are you. . .dead?"
"No."
"Wh. . .what are you?"
"I-A-M-Y-O-U."
It took a second for it to click in Holden's head, but when it did, boy. . .did he run.
