Reflections

1

December 3, 1877

It had all been so fast. There had already been many people who were skeptical of their family from the start and that only continued to grow more with time.

He couldn't even walk into town without people staring at him or whispering behind his back. Most of the shops refused to serve him for supposedly "selling his soul to the Devil." He tried to ignore it, but it was hard when the world seemed to be against you.

He took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror as he got ready that morning. It had become difficult to look at his reflection and not feel a slight pain in his heart. He was supposed to be close to 35 now, a lot of people didn't even live that long. He had first been told he was lucky, for his already long life and young appearance, but that quickly changed.

Sighing, he put on his coat and grabbed his case as he walked through the snow. He walked into town, ignoring all the people who looked at him as he made his way to the school house. He frowned as he approached it. The door was closed and it appeared that the class was already in session. He bent down slightly to look into a window, which only confirmed his fears and doubts. He had been replaced.

One of the students he was especially fond of, James, happened to look out the window at the same time and stared sadly at his former teacher. A woman frowned and went to the window, then went to the door and opened it. He straightened up as the woman approached him.

"What do you think you're doing here?" She asked in a harsh whisper.

"I work here," he explained, a little confused. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to..."

"Mr. Nesmith," she sighed. "You are not allowed in this school house, do you understand that?"

"No," he frowned. "It's the only job I'm good at. They couldn't have just replaced me."

"Families were concerned," she explained, crossing her arms over her chest. "Concerned that you were encouraging children to deal with the Devil and that you were putting their lives in danger."

He wanted to laugh, it sounded ridiculous after all. But instead he was just saddened.

"I've never put anyone, any child, in any danger," he said quietly. "Never before, never now, and  never will in time yet to come. Everyone knows that."

She straightened up, trying to seem taller than him.

"Good day, Mr. Nesmith," she said sternly before marching her way back into the school house. The second she walked in, all the students but one turned their attention back to her. James was still looking outside at his former teacher.

The teacher sighed and stiffened when he caught his student's glance. He smiled and gave a slight wave, James waving back at him, before going back to town, head hung low. Again, the stares only seemed to get worse as he walked back to his family's home, dejected.

His sister was there, but she didn't say a word to him as he came back inside. Sighing, he took off his coats and vest, brushing the snow off and folding each, laying them on his bed.

Most of that part of the day was a blur to him. Nothing seemed to happen in the house until after dark. He woke up, not even realizing he had dozed off, to the sound of a loud banging coming from down stairs.

"Michael?!" His sister's worried voice screamed. Almost instantly, he jumped out of bed and ran to her, concerned.

"You need to leave," she ordered, grabbing onto his arms.

"What?" He asked, frowning.

Suddenly, a brick was thrown through their window, on it were the words "burn in Hell". His sister yelped and clung to him.

"Please, just leave," she cried as the screams and chants were now much louder through the broken window. Quickly, he ran upstairs to grab his coat. He hadn't even buttoned it as he ran back down and grabbed onto his sister's hands.

"Come with me," he whispered, out of breath.

"Michael, you know I can't," she said sadly. "Please, just go."

He frowned, not wanting to leave her.

"I'll be fine," she said, putting a hand on his cheek. "Just go."

Without a second thought, he ran out into the snow through the back. A hand had reached in through the broken window, carrying a torch, and started a fire. As he ran to get his horse, that was when he noticed the house, now glowing with the light. His eyes widened with horror and fear and he felt a few tears roll down his face as he looked up at it. It was the end of the story. A town, once so kind and loving, turned hateful and cruel.

No one in the mob had seemed to notice him and he wanted to keep it that way. Pulling his eyes away from the fire, he ran to his horse and jumped on him, riding him through the snow.

He could hear the sound of a gunshot come from behind him and the bullet hit his back. The wound healed itself but the bullet still tore a hole through his coat. Still, being shot didn't stop him from riding.

Michael Nesmith was now officially running for his life.