The man sternly looks at the woman, ‘Look, my name doesn’t matter. I’m not here to tell you my name. What I’m here to tell you is that it’s your responsibilities as journalist to make these law enforcement clowns tell you the truth before more people die!’
The reporters, as well as some spectators, look at each other horrified. They all rush over to the man, ‘What do you mean more people will die? Sir, do you have any information about this murder?’
Two policemen push their way through the crowd and grab the old man. The old man begins to struggle, ‘Get your hands off me! It is my right as a tax paying citizen to challenge the authority of the established government!’
The police officers take the man’s hands and twist them behind his back. One takes a pair of handcuff from his belt and slaps them on his wrist. ‘Take it easy,’ the police officer says, ‘don’t resist.’
The man tried to run. The police officers kick his legs out from under him and slam him to the ground. They take his other wrist and clamp the handcuff on. The man begins to kick, ‘Don’t let them cover this up!’ he yells. ‘Today it’s someone else’s child….next time it might be yours!’
The police officers grab the man by his handcuffed arms and pull him to his feet. The man continues to kick as he’s dragged away from the scene.
Jeff taps the microphones to get the attentions of the reporters. ‘I’m sorry for that interruption. As you can guess, emotions are running pretty high around here.’
The reporters swarm around the stage. ‘What did he mean? Are you withholding vital information from the public?’ one asks. Jeff opens his mouth to answer but another reporter cuts him off.
‘Is this a serial killer scenario and if so why can’t you confirm or deny this?’
The reporters begin shouting their questions at Jeff. Sherriff Morrison grabs Jeff by the shoulder and points him to the car. Jeff leaves the stage as reporters bombard him with questions.
‘Will you interrogate the man who was just arrested about any information in connection with the crimes and if so, will you share that information with the public?’ another reporter shouts.
Sherriff Morrison leans over the microphones, ‘That’s it. No more questions for today. If we learn anymore developments, we will share them as soon as possible. Thank you.’
Sherriff Morrison and Jeff Grumbacher enter the police cruiser and slowly pull off. The reporters surround the vehicle and continue shouting questions as the police cruiser slowly makes its way through the gate.
Linny looks at Kate, ‘THAT was pretty crazy! I don’t think I’ve seen this much excitement around here before. Have you?’
Kate watches as the reporters chase the police car. She looks over and sees Simon taking pictures of the chaos. ‘No, this is definitely a first for me.’ She says.
Donavan walks up behind them. He puts his arm around Linny, ‘You two still going to class? Me and a couple of the guys were thinking about skipping. I’m sure the teachers don’t feel like teaching today and no one wants to deal with those half-ass grief counselors.’
Linny grabs Kate’s hand, ‘Do you want to go in?’
Kate nods, ‘Yea, I need to keep my mind occupied. And what better way than super hard trig problems, right?’
Donavan hunches his shoulders, ‘Well suit yourselves.’ He kisses Linny on the cheek, ‘Call me later when you get out. And Kate, stay out of the woods!’ he says in a jokey tone.
Linny hits him with her purse as he jogs to the parking lot. ‘He’s such an ass.’ she says.
Kate watches Simon as he packs his camera in his bag and walks into the school.
‘Linny, do you have any classes with that kid?’ she asks. Linny shakes her head, ‘No, why? From what I heard he only has a homeroom and the rest of the day he’s in the photography darkroom. Why do you ask?’
Kate chews on the inside of her lip, ‘No particular reason….just wondering.’ Linny and Kate walk into the school. With every step they take, the noise from the outside gets softer as the sounds of students crying and comforting each other gets louder.
Chapter 3
Kate sits in her second period class trying to concentrate on the lesson plan Mr. Woodford is teaching. The class room is visibly emptier than it usually is. ‘They probably skipped like Donavan.’ she thinks to herself.
She tries to concentrate as Mr. Woodford explains the reciprocal functions of trigonometry but her mind drifts elsewhere.
She thinks about the times she would walk into school early in the morning feeling terrible about life.
How she would bicker with her father before she left and saying terrible things to him in the heat of the moment.
How she would get in her car and speed down the streets with little regard to anyone. How she would see happy couples in the parking lot making out before the first bell.
She thinks about walking through the halls before class started and thinking every whisper around her from those standing at their lockers could have been directed at her.
She thinks about these things. Then she remembers no matter what mood she was in, she would always see Jessica smiling as she carried her books down the hall. How Jessica would hold doors open for classmates, even if they didn’t acknowledge her.
Sometimes the ones we ignore are the ones who inadvertently shape our personalities. She wishes she would have appreciated those times a little more.
Then she thinks about how Jessica must have felt, knowing she was going to die. How someone may have taken her kindness to lure her to her murder.
Mr. Woodford turns to the class, ‘Could everyone turn to page 274 of your textbook.’ The swooshing sounds of pages turning echo against the walls inside the classroom. Kate looks at the assigned page. She sees 4 rows of problems to solve on the left page, and 4 rows on the right.
Kate looks at Mr. Woodford. He doesn’t look like his usual jovial self today. There’s no smile under his bushy orange mustache. The same hands that he usually uses to adamantly act out the process used to find the answers to certain problems are now gingerly holding a piece of chalk.
Kate looks at the pages once more. ‘Busy work’ she thinks to herself, ‘even the teachers are having a hard time with this.’
Mr. Woodford, one of the most enthusiastic teachers in the school, is reduced to a former shadow of himself. Time heals all things, but tragedies change people when you need their yesterday selves the most.
Kate begins to think about what Linny said about Simon. Simon isn’t the stereotypical weird kid. Usually they dressed in black with spiky hair and wear eggshell color foundation to pale their complexion. Simon dresses more like a jock. Like a cross country runner with his oversized hoodies and athletic pants. He styles his hair almost like a teacher, except messier.
Simon transferred to the school 2 years ago and Kate thinks back and tries to remember if he’s ever said more than two words to anyone. The more Kate thinks about Simon, the more she tries to search for reasons to suspect him.
Kate remembers Linny mentioning how he often hangs around school and uses the dark room, even though he has no classes after first period.
‘That has to be a red flag. What could he be doing in the darkroom all that time?’ Kate thinks. ‘He seems to be a photography fanatic but…it’s just weird.’
Kate’s imagination begins to roam freely. She begins to wonder if he is a dangerous person. ‘Usually killers isolate themselves,’ she whispers quietly, ‘there’s no telling what he’s doing in there. And no one bothers to find out.’
Kate raises her hand. Mr. Woodford sees Kate’s hand in the air, bent at the elbow.
‘Yes, you have a question about something in the lesson?’ Mr. Woodford asks. Kate slowly puts her hand down, ‘No, I just need to use the bathroom.’
Usually Mr. Woodford is hard on students when it comes to hall passes. He always says that everyone in the room has a bladder connected by an invisible string, and when one person has go; another one will have to go a
nd so on and so on. But on this day Mr. Woodford doesn’t have the strength, or gusto, to give that speech.
He sits at his desk, opens one of the drawers, pulls out a hall pass and begins to fill it out. Kate makes her way to the front of the class. As she walks up the aisle, she notices everyone is not into the work. Some are staring blankly at the page while others seem to be thinking about the events of today.
Mr. Woodford rips the pass from the stack and hands it to Kate. Kate takes the pass and smiles at Mr. Woodford. She wants to give him some signal that she appreciates it without getting to emotional, but a hug may overstep the teacher/student boundaries of professionalism.
Mr. Woodford nods at Kate and puts the rest of the passes in his desk drawer. Kate walks out of the classroom. She slowly turns the knob to the door and feels the warm breeze from the vents as she exits the classroom.
‘Someone needs to find out what he’s doing in that darkroom.’ She says to herself.
Kate sees the door to the darkroom down the hall. With every step, she gets more nervous. No one wants their negative suspicions to be correct, especially a morbid suspicion as this one. She looks through the windows of the doors at the other classes in session. Each window she passes, she sees thin groups of students being led by a lethargic teacher doing their best to make it through the day.
As she turns her attention down the hall, she can clearly see the numbers on the room of the darkroom, 455. She doesn’t know much about the darkroom. All she knows is during the morning announcements, the principal constantly reminds the students not to enter the darkroom when that red light is on above the door.
She looks up. The red light above the door is glowing crimson
Kate softly presses her ear to the door. She hears nothing. She thinks about how it would be a gamble to walk in and assume the room is empty based off a listening test. But it sound silent inside. She places her hand on the doorknob and takes a gamble.
She gently turns the door handle and cracks the door. She can see a dull red light glowing from the crack of the door and spilling onto the tiles of the hallway floors.
She peeks in the crack and sees rows and rows of silver metal pans on the table. Above the table are big photographs hanging from a line of string, clamped by clothespins. She doesn’t see any movement in the room. No shadowy figures are projected on the wall, no rustling of papers or closing of cabinet doors.
She pushes the door open a bit more. She can see Simon’s backpack lying on the floor. ‘He must be here.’ Kate thinks to herself. ‘I should hurry before he gets back.’ Kate opens the door just wide enough to slip in and lightly closes it behind her.
Kate tip toes across the floor, stopping to gaze at the pictures. Most of them are black squares of nothingness. Others are faint outlines of objects. She can’t make out what the objects are, but they look like either people or animals. She sees a huge filing cabinet tucked away in the corner of a wall. She walks over to the filing cabinet slowly.
Each drawer has a subject written on a strip of masking tape over the handle. On the top drawer the words, “Yearbook Pics” is written boldly in black marker.
Kate opens the drawer. She sees a row of folders, each marked with an event from the year and a date. Kate quickly thumbs through the folders of the current school year. There are pictures of this year’s Football and Soccer games. There are pictures of the homecoming court and the homecoming dance. She looks at photos of students coming back to school after summer break and teachers preparing their room for the first class. ‘There’s nothing here.’ Kate says as she carefully slides the folder back in its place.
She looks down the filing cabinet. The second drawer is marked “Student Baby pictures”. The third drawer is marked “Special Events and charity”.
Kate begins to get discouraged. She begins closing the drawers when she sees the last cabinet, marked ‘Misc”. Kate drops down to her knees and opens the drawer.
Unlike the first drawer, this cabinet has pictures scattered inside. Kate picks up a pile of the photo and begins to rummage through it. She sees pictures of various parties held this year. She sees pictures of students drinking in smoked filled rooms, completely oblivious to the camera. Kate keeps looking through the pictures until she sees the prints from the most recent party.
She begins to separate them on the floor. One picture shows Matt Foyer doing a keg stand. Another shows Rachael sitting on Kyle’s lap, smiling and raising her leg up, exposing a piece of her bright red underwear. Kate keeps looking through the photos until she sees Jessica, leaving the party.
Kate lays the picture by her side, away from the other ones. She keeps looking until she sees a picture of Jessica again. This time, it’s through the window of the house as she walks down the street.
This guy’s a creep.’ She thinks to herself.
She pulls more photos out of the drawer and looks through them. The photos show more kids drinking. Some show snapshots of students from the school while doing their homework….in their bedrooms.
Kate frantically looks through the pictures until one catches her eye. It’s a photograph of Jessica walking down the sidewalk, wearing the same clothes from the party.
Kate knows where that photo took place. She knows that the place it was taken was a few blocks from the party.
‘Simon must have followed her.’ She thinks to herself. She picks up the photo and thinks of ways to smuggle it out without damaging it. She nervously paces back and forth in the room. Her hands begin to twitch from the adrenaline. She feels the pulsating palpitations of her heart beating in her neck. She sees Simon’s backpack. ‘He must have some kind of folder or something in there. How else would he carry around all his photos?’
She hesitantly looks at the backpack in front of her. She doesn’t want to disturb it in fear that Simon will know someone has been in rummaging through his stuff. ‘This is justice. This is justice.’ she says to herself repeatedly as she works up the nerve to open the backpack.
She grabs the zipper. She cautiously pulls it down and sticks her hand in the small opening. She feels her knuckles bump against hard book covers. She unzips the backpack a little more and looks in. ‘For a kid that only has one class, he sure has a lot of books in here.’ she thinks to herself.
She hears a clicking noise behind her. She quickly turns around and sees the handle of the door turning. She yanks her hand out of the backpack and looks around for a place to hide. She quickly runs and stands against the wall behind the door.
The door opens and Simon walks in carrying a large box. Kate watches him as he sits the box down on the table and looks at the photos pinned to the clothesline. Kate puts her hand on the door knob. She prepares herself to quickly open it and run out while Simon is distracted.
Simon takes one of the photos from the clothesline. He holds it close to his face and squints. ‘There it is again.’ He says. He takes a marker from his pocket and circles something in the photo.
Kate slowly turns the door handle until it clicks. Simon looks up for a moment and then proceeds to take another photo from the clothesline. Kate pulls the door and a crack of light hits the table. Simon looks at the light, and then looks at the door. He sees Kate, and Kate sees him.
‘Hey! What are you doing in here?’ he yells while walking toward her. Kate flings open the door. She can hear Simon’s footsteps behind her. She runs out and slams the door behind her. She sprints down the hall. She feels the wind breezing against the contours of her face. She runs until she reaches Mr. Woodfords classroom door. Kate leans against the lockers to catch her breath. As she doubles over, she begins to wonder why Simon began to chase her.
‘He must be hiding something.’ She thinks to herself. She stays in the hallway until she gets her wind back. She composes herself before returning to the class. She runs her fingers through her hair tucks in her shirt. As she arranges her messy tresses, she looks at her hand and remembers she left the photo in the darkroom.
The Slender Man Game of Myths Page 3
