Teacher (Work in Progress – Short Story)

Teacher

Sitting in a class. Watching them working at a task, just before a holiday break. Feeling too sick (respiratory infection) to do much more than be there.

Watching the quirky actions of some.

• Fidgeter
• Self-talker
• Pencil-tapper
• Non-stop talkers, and those who can't stand the noise
• Can't stay still, wandering the room
• Anxious - nail-biters, lip-chewers, hair-twirlers

This was me in school - anxious, tics, using headphones to block out sounds.

It's still a major effort to hide my collection of oddities. Parents would not feel comfortable entrusting their kids to someone so over-the-top in need of psych help.

I manage. Most of the time. I use things to hide - earbuds to avoid conversations that threaten my isolation. Borrowing dogs to use on walks around town. No one questions your aimless walking, walking, if you have the excuse of a dog (I'm highly popular in my neighborhood for my willingness to volunteer to take the dogs with me. I actually don't like dogs all that much, but pretending I do makes it easier).

My hobbies - I create adult coloring books - line drawings of very intricate scenes in a variety of styles - Victorian, Edwardian (yes, there is a distinct difference), Art Deco - my favorite. Women in ball gowns that have multiple layers, many details of lace, pattern, seaming. Bluesy nightclub scenes, with flappers in amazing Zeldaesque quasi-Southern flourishes.

Dark and truly frightening dilapidated houses.

Woods with trees that reach out to grab passersby. Vines that curl into the path, tripping the unwary. In short, an epically spooky terrain that would kill you - if you relax even a smidge.

There's an audience for every one of these. Particularly the creepy, haunting ones. The ones in which you look - is that a spirit peeking out of the bushes? What is that shadow - and what is casting it?

I show people the 'nice' books. My name is on them.

The others? The ones that attract some truly disturbing fan mail?

They are under a well-buried pseudonym. No one can connect me to it.

At least, that's what I thought. Until I received the email to that disguised self with a picture of me walking Killer, late last Thursday night.

I swear, there was no one following me. I have a real gift for sensing that.

Still, the photographic evidence doesn't lie.

Someone knows who I am.

And whoever it is? REALLY not happy with me.