In the Midst of Monsters

Prologue

               Beyond the school's property line, nestled in the nook of adolescent defiance, lay the infamous "smoker's corner." It was a unique haven they had crafted for themselves, where they could congregate with their peers to indulge in cigarettes before and after classes, away from the watchful eyes of the school administration. Within the confines of those school walls, these individuals rarely mingled socially, each tribe sticking to their own; jocks, nerds, goths, and scholars. But in the smoker's corner, an unspoken truce reigned. A brief pause from the system, a motley crew, a parley of sorts. Here divergent factions converged, setting aside their differences for a mere ten minutes, all bound by the shared need for nicotine. To disrupt this fragile pact meant risking isolation at the very moment their craving reached its peak, left without the support or sympathy of their peers.

Parking was its own kind of hierarchy. Seventy-five bucks let you park up close, almost cheek-to-cheek with the school. But for those short on cash or just perpetually late to everything, parking on the main road and making the walk past that cloud of smoke that enveloped the corner was a daily ritual.

At sixteen, Lisa could be classified as a typical junior who was too busy getting through each day to concern herself with cliques and labels. Her family could have afforded the fees for premium parking, but her penchant for procrastination had led her to miss the registration deadline and forced to struggle to find a spot to park on the main road every morning.

Today she now found herself weaving around rain puddles looking for a place to park. And then she saw it. An abandoned composition notebook, its black and white cover succumbing to the elements.

Curiosity was Lisa's constant companion, an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a fondness for the written word. Her interests transgressed from the typical teenage trifles of fashion, gossip, or boys. Lisa found solace in libraries, where she could lose herself in a book's embrace. Picking up random volumes without glancing at titles or covers was her trademark. She craved the element of surprise, relishing the thrill of not knowing what lay within.

It was this curiosity that drew her to the rain-drenched composition book. Whose hand had left it there, and what secrets did it conceal? Could it belong to a fellow student who had accidentally dropped it, perhaps holding vital notes or homework? Ignoring the downpour, Lisa shielded the book beneath her arm and headed towards the school, passing the congregation of smokers on her way to class, her curiosity outpacing her stride.

As the morning bell echoed through the hallway, the English classroom buzzed with subdued excitement. Today's lesson promised a cinematic adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, a prospect that left Lisa unenthusiastic. Frustrated by the choice of screen over text, she retrieved the composition book from her backpack. Her fingers, damp from rain, found the cover, and she gently opened it, curious about its contents, revealing pages filled with cramped, uneven handwriting that spoke of haste and anxiety. A quick flip through all two hundred pages indicated that not a single blank sheet remained. The absence of any obvious identification on the inside cover further deepened the mystery.

The words on the first page gripped her like a vise. "When they find out what I've done they're going to want to know why. This is the why."

Lisa's mind raced as she delved deeper into the narrative. "My classmates know me as grunge Jack, they accept me as punk Jack, when the time is right and the game is on the line some are glad to know me as jock Jack, but the reality is that nobody in this whole damn school knows jack about the real me."

As the words painted a portrait of this enigmatic author, Lisa felt a shiver of intrigue. She had a name now, Jack, a thread to unravel. Lisa leaned forward in her seat, intrigued by the unfolding narrative.

"I can only imagine what some people are going to say when they find out what I did," the text continued, "he was a good boy, a quiet boy, maybe a somewhat troubled boy, I never imagined in a million years he would have done what he did so it must be the video games or the comic books or the music he listens to. I won't argue that life has been known to imitate art, but if there is a reason I'm going to kill everyone at this school, it has nothing to do with any of that."

The world became blurry, Lisa's pulse echoed in her ears. Was this a confession? A threat? A sick joke? She glanced around the classroom, wondering if anyone else knew about the disturbing passage she had just read. Faces she had seen daily filled her vision, and a gnawing doubt settled in her mind. Could one of them be Jack? Could someone be planning a horrific act of violence against their schoolmates? And why?

Now, Lisa was at a crossroads. Dive deeper into this chilling narrative, hoping to find answers or clues? report the book to the authorities in a bid to prevent a tragedy or apprehend a potential criminal? Or just let it fade, pretending this Pandora's box never opened in her hands? Choices. And like smoke, they hung heavy in the air.