A Faint Tingling

  • by Kent(slate-colored is a better term in frosty weather)
  • standing there shivering and looking shell-shocked
  • the splendor of his funeral clothes
  • tuna croissant
  • commencing a thorough search of the palace

Tune in next time part 192                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

A faint tingling told me my paralysis was wearing off by the time Dr Absinthia Belladonna finished aiming her dozens of razor-tipped projectiles. She aimed them at every part of me, including all my favorite parts. Then she lit the fuse and retreated behind a steel blast shield. I still couldn’t move.

The fuse hissed, emitting sparks and rank, sulfurous fumes. I tried to get up, or roll off the table, but although the tingle was stronger than ever my muscles were still powerless.

It felt like a flashback to my years at the academy. And then, it was a flashback.

Snowflakes settled onto my skin, staked out on the frozen rugby field. Dr Belladonna was teaching a lesson, teaching me not to talk back. Her grayish (slate-colored is a better term in frosty weather) eyes barely registered my presence as she dismissed the rest of the students and I was alone, naked in the snow. It took Tessa an hour to sneak out and release me, but as I was standing there shivering and looking shell-shocked she gave me her coat. We were two normal teenagers, for about nine seconds.

The next day, the headmaster turned up dead. Dr Belladonna took over running the academy, and her first official act was to give her predecessor’s eulogy. It was five minutes of observational humor based around the splendor of his funeral clothes, while she nibbled a tuna croissant.

Her second official act was to announce that the phys ed department was commencing a thorough search of the palace, which was our semi-ironic nickname for the wastewater treatment plant next door. It had never been brought online, making it an irresistibly attractive nuisance to us cadets.

We never learned what they had been searching for.

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