Chapter Text
Jonah Magnus sat at his desk, reading the most recent report about his institution. Students' grades were failing, some had died and a government inquiry was sure to be on the way. But Jonah Magnus couldn’t care. His precious ritual would soon be complete, as long as the Robinson girl stayed in detention. He’d set it himself, carefully crafting the room's specifics, no view of the outside with the temperature low, perfect for long periods spent alone. All he had to do was wait for her to truly feel the fear he had so carefully crafted. If only he could watch. Watch as all hope left the girl's eyes when she realised nobody was coming for her and the door was locked. Jonah felt a sting of pride, his personal favourite of the fears, the one he devoted his time to, giving him the rush of satisfaction. He would watch as the world collapsed under the weight of its own fears, and if he was lucky the world would watch back as he turned his precious institute into a nightmare haven. He checked his clock, noting that the girl had been locked inside for five hours. He gave a slight frown. Almost all of his other subjects had caved by this point, yet there was no indication that his ritual had taken place. Admittedly, it was probably his fault for leaving the lonely till last. The effects of isolation took time, unlike the effects of locking a girl in a burning room and waiting until she was half burned. And still, he waited.
A further two hours passed and Jonah Magnus was concerned. He was sure he had left Gertrude with only her own thoughts, and when he checked that the room was still locked, he Knew she was still in there. He checked that nobody had spoken to her, but nobody had. A shiver ran down his spine. His favourite fear screamed at him that something was wrong. That the boiler room below the school had been tainted. His eyes rolled back into his head as he looked through the fabric of reality, watching as a group of children wrote in a series of books. They detailed every single weird thing that had happened at the school, writing about how Agnes Montague had been locked in a burning room, and despite the severe burns and lung damage, had lived. Her account was terrifying. Her attention to detail was immaculate and while Jonah was proud of her eloquence he felt the fear strip away from her as her words were put into ink. It was then that he saw it. This wasn’t the first of the fears that had been retracted. Of course it wasn’t, nobody would think that they could retract years of fear seeping into the school in a few moments. Jonah’s eyes corrected as he yanked his vision back into his body. He stormed out of his office and cursed himself for putting it at the top of the school- a good idea in principle but horrible when he had to move quickly through the halls. His footsteps echoed as he ran, passing the room where he’d locked Gertrude in and deciding he would deal with her later. The fear struck his spine again, twice in quick succession now that he was properly paying attention. The first was from the knowledge that yet another fear had been stripped away, Simon Fairchild and his incessant fear of being small in an endless world. Jonah had always thought Simon had embraced it, even going so far as to fill his life with all things vast in nature, comparing them with his own insignificance. And yet his actions proved otherwise, willingly giving away power and importance in Jonah’s new world in favour of his own wants and needs. The second fear to strike his spine came from directly behind him, when the door to Gertrude Robinson’s fear opened. He turned around and saw Adelard Dekker and Gertude smiling at each other.
“What have you done?” Jonah snarled.
“We’re doing the right thing,” Gerturde said, shaking off the chill from the loneliness. “Unlike you.”
Jonah scoffed, knowing Gertrude’s snark meant nothing, “and what is it do you think I’m doing?”
“You’ve been watching us suffer. Letting us suffer,” Adelard said, pulling Gerturde away as Jonah stepped closer.
“And why have I been doing that? You can’t exactly stop me if you don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jonah smiled. He could feel the fears draining from the boiler room as people gave their statements up to the books, but the residual fear from the rest of the school was enough to keep his ritual going.
“Something about fears and reshaping the world,” Gertrude said, stopping Jonah in his tracks as she brought out the book.
The book itself was old; he'd dated it to 1818 with a large eye print on the cover. He didn’t know who had written it, but somehow when he had picked it up he just knew it was real. And who was he to deny such a powerful thing? He’d studied it intently, using it to shape his institute into a fear mongering hellscape for anyone who would enter, utilising the fears to trap them within its walls. And a child held it in her hands.
“You don’t even know what that is.” He spat, trying to keep his composure.
Another jolt. Another fear lost.
Gertrude looked him right in the eye, her gaze unwavering as she opened it to the first blank page. Adelard handed her a pen and she scribbled a line, knowing it would disappear. Jonah’s stomach dropped. Gertrude Robinson was the smartest in the school. Her prowess for social situations and academia was outstanding, and her thirst for knowledge and understanding was something Jonah admired. If only he needed someone else to fear the eye.
“Mr Magnus, the students at this school would like to thank you for your contribution to the institute as our headmaster, but I think it's time you retire.”
Gertrude began to write in the book as Jonah lunged for her. She took a side step and Adelard stepped in, slamming his shoulder into Jonah’s stomach, knocking him to the floor as Gertrude continued to write. She followed the instructions within the book, making sure all her letters were neat as she inscribed the words of the watcher.
To this book I bind,
To watch from the spines on a bookshelf
To seal him I blind
To this book I bind Jonah Magnus.
She slammed the book shut, letting the sound reverb around the halls as she looked at Adelard where he was holding Jonah down.
“Why is he still here?” Adelard screamed, turning to Gertrude.
She smiled at him and lifted the fountain pen she’d been writing with, “to seal him I blind.”
With little flair she turned the nib of the pen to her eye and thrust it into her eye, screaming as she ripped it out, blood and ink pouring from the puncture as the eye began to lift from the socket. She positioned the pen over her other eye, her hands shaking as the agony washed over her. Gertrude went to puncture the other eye, but a firm hand found its way around her arm, ripping it away and shoving her to the floor as she dropped the pen. She screamed as Adelard’s face crept into her blood stained vision and kept his body weight atop her, stopping her from reaching to where the pen had landed.
“No I need to seal him-” she begged, trying to push him off.
“He's gone! Gertrude he’s gone,” Adelard shouted back, letting Gertrude stop fighting him, “we did it.”
“I- I thought-”
“I know. Look, we said we’d meet the others outside, right? Let’s go-”
“No. No they’re not- the book-” Gertrude was dragged to her feet as she scrambled for breath through the pain, “the book said that sealing their fears would kill them. They knew that. I have to blind myself to seal him and burn the book-”
“Gertrude, we need to leave. We can do the rest later, okay?”
Through gasps, Gertrude nodded, and let Adelard lead the way. They pressed part of Gertrude’s uniform over her eye and watched as the blood seeped through, staining her red cardigan a darker shade.
Adelard led her to the courtyard and sighed in relief as he saw everyone else waiting for them.
“Gertrude!” Agnes yelled, running up to her friend and pulling her into a hug.
“You- you didn’t-”
“No. Everyone’s alive. When you said we might not make it I thought we’d all die. God what happened to your eye? And where’s Jurgen, we sent him to look for you?”
“I thought- the book said we’d have to make sacrifices but it wasn’t exactly clear. I thought that when you explained the fears and trapped them in the books you’d be gone. Like Hadmaster Magnus. I had to seal him in the book and it said I had to blind myself and, well, a fountain pen does wonders in a pinch. As for Jurgen, I haven’t seen him. I mean I can’t see much and please can someone take me to a hospital and-”
Gertrude couldn’t finish her sentence before the waves of agony crushing her body caused her to pass out.
Jonathan Sims walked through the gates to The Magnus Institute, already dreading the school year. The sixth form uniform was a dark green- and while it was his colour, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. His grandmother argued that it was just because he was so used to the red uniform of the lower school, and not because over the summer they’d swapped the uniform material to a recycled fibre and the texture was wrong. But, he wanted to be vaguely presentable, and the sudden chill in the turn of the weather made it hard for him to concentrate without a warmer layer. While he would have opted for the jumper, the fabric of that was even worse, and he did not want to be uncomfortable over the winter. He looked up at the school building, the old stone brick looming over him with grey hostility, and the old bell tower above the headmasters office looked right across the courtyard. Jon could see the silhouette of Mr Dekker watching the new influx of students while he probably filled out paperwork. The sight of a single figure watching from the top of the school had always unnerved Jon, especially since he had been caught skipping class in year 7 and the only reason they found out was because Mr Dekker had seen him hiding from the bell tower. Luckily, he wasn’t given detention, given that it was PE and he was in a class with one of the biggest bullies in the year and Mr Dekker was a surprisingly lenient man. But the fact that someone could always be watching unsettled him, and every year he’d overhear the year 7s whispering about it and how utterly terrified they were. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his emails for his timetable, ignoring a text chain from his tutor group about a new school year party they were throwing in the sixth form lounge. He did not want to be a part of it. He found his timetable and sighed. The first Monday of the school year and he had a full day. Two hours of English literature, two hours of EPQ and then one hour of history. His only vague joy of it was that Ms. Robinson was teaching both English and his EPQ, and she was half of the reason he’d taken those subjects. He also found out that his tutorials were with one of the science teachers, who was specialising in chemistry, a Mrs Montague. Jon had her for GCSE science the year prior, and while he didn’t necessarily like her, she was a good enough teacher to get him a 7 in chemistry, and a nice enough person to not hate being in the same space as her. He let out a small sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, mentally preparing himself for a long day.
“First day back and I’m already exhausted.”
“Right, at the risk of sounding like a parent, are you sure you put money on your thumbprint for lunch? Because I don’t want to leave the school site at lunch to buy food for you,” Tim asked as he and his younger brother walked towards the lower school entrance.
“Yes, dad , I’m sure I put money on the account,” Danny said.
“Oh ha ha, very funny,” Tim deadpanned, “regardless, don’t be a dick to your teachers, do the work they tell you to do and try to stay out of trouble. Or at least don’t get caught. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll see you around, I guess?” Danny said.
“Yeah. And I won’t bother you in between class, so you don’t need to worry about me messing up your precious little social life,” Tim joked, running his fingers through Danny’s hair to deliberately mess it up.
“Oi! My social life isn’t ‘little’, thank you very much,” Danny pouted as he ruffled his own hair to ‘fix it’ and walked away, “besides, where’s yours?”
Tim scoffed, feigning hurt as he watched Danny walk into the school building and walked towards the sixth form entrance. He thought the separate entrances for the different sections of the school was stupid, but he understood that year 7s were very intimidated by older students- he could remember when he was terrified to ask for directions, and when Danny would actively seek him out for help so he wouldn’t need to talk to a random stranger. As he walked to the entrance he could see some of the returning year 8s and year 9s hiding between some of the bushes as they vaped, some of them applying their ‘chav’ makeup and gawking at him, ‘the hot sixth former’. Tim walked by them fast. He was glad both he and Danny skipped that phase. He pulled his phone out and checked his timetable and cursed, much to the shock of some year 7s. A tutorial with Mrs Montague (not bad, she was relatively chill), English lit and EPQ with Ms. Robinson (also not awful, he took those subjects because he liked her) and then one hour of PE (also not bad, but the gym teacher Mr Hopworth hated teaching). He walked through the sixth form gates and towards the school, brushing off the odd creeping feeling rising in his stomach as first day anxiety.
Sasha biked through the gates to the school and looked up at the bell tower, hoping she wasn’t running late. She knew she had left the house late, courtesy of her parents wanting a first day of school picture to post on their facebook. She couldn’t really be mad at them, it was a James family tradition, and every year she adored revisiting her past fashion sense and making fun of her horrible fringe phase from year 5. She drove her bike into the rack stand and locked it, picking up her bag and phone and looking at the time. 8:38. She let out a small sigh of relief and saw her timetable, tutorial with the theatre and music teacher Ms Orsinov, English and EPQ with Ms Robinson and then a free period. Not the worst she’d ever seen. She ran through the halls as stealthy as possible so she wouldn’t get told off for running. She opened the door to her tutorial and scanned the room for someone she could sit next to. Unfortunately, her parents moving to Oxford meant she didn’t really have any proper friends. Of course there were people she had seen around and hung out with, like Tom? Tim, maybe? But that was only really when she was having brunch with her parents and he was a waiter over the summer. And while she wanted to hang out with him (and maybe go on a date), it hadn’t exactly worked out. But apparently someone noticed her nervous energy.
“Hi, I’m Georgie. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before?” the girl said.
“Oh, no, probably not. I’m Sasha, I’m new here.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy The Magnus Institute. What classes do you take?” Georgie lead Sasha to where she had been sitting, letting her sit down and get comfy.
“English Lit, Chemistry, Law and EPQ,” Sasha said.
“I take English too! I take drama and history though. And core maths.”
“So you have English first? With Ms Robinson?”
“Not today, no. You must be in the other cohort. Ms Robinson gets a lot of students in her classes. She’s one of the best. She doesn’t do drama, gets results but can be quite nice. Just don’t get on her bad side.” Georgie explained as they watched Ms Orsinov stand up in front of the class to deliver the classic ‘welcome to the year’ speech.
Martin was running late. Again. First day of school and he was already late. He had done everything to stay on time- hell he planned to leave earlier than he needed to. But his mum had a flare up and he had to make sure she would be comfortable during the day while he was gone and because the world hated him he had a full day. He rounded the corner of Hilltop Road and saw the sixth form entrance. He took a deep breath to clear his mind, he knew that Mr Lukas wasn’t one to take excuses for tardiness. He stalked through the halls, ignoring the stares from every single classroom that he passed as every student could watch him try and calmly walk to his class. He could feel how red his face was though, and he could feel how every single eye was on him. Some were pity, but most were judgement. And why wouldn’t they? He remembered when he was on time and he’d watch people walk through the halls. And now he knew how it felt to have all eyes on him. He turned a corner and came face to face with Mr Dekker and he jumped.
“Mr Dekker- I- I’m so sorry I’m late I know it’s the- the first- um- the first day and-”
“Woah, slow down. It’s Martin, isn’t it?” he smiled softly, oddly reassuring Martin.
“Yes, yeah I’m Martin Blackwood. I promise I can explain-”
“No need. Why don’t I walk you to class so we can tell Mr Lukas we were in a meeting?”
Martin nodded and let Mr Dekker walk him to class.
“Now, I know I said you needn’t explain yourself, but I know Ms Robinson mentioned you were looking after your mother outside of school?”
“Yeah, yeah that’s right.”
“As your headmaster it is my duty to protect all my students. I know that it is mostly SLT’s job but I also like to get involved. Listen, I can have a word with your teachers about your schedule, letting you have a bit more flexibility as to when you leave and arrive. Small things like that, is that alright?”
“I- uhm.”
“There’s no rush of course, but if you could email me by the end of the week, I can sort everything out.”
“I- thank you?”
“It is no problem,” Mr Dekker pushed open the door to Martin’s tutorial, interrupting Mr Lukas’ speech about work ethic, “Mr Lukas I am incredibly sorry for stealing one of your students this morning, but I needed Martin to help me understand some of our student perspectives at the start of the year- important for making sure our students are happy at this school I am sure you understand.”
As Mr Dekker spoke Martin sat down in the corner and watched as Mr Lukas couldn’t get a word in as the headmaster spoke, words effortlessly falling off his tongue. Mr Dekker left and Mr Lukas stared at the door in slight shock. Mr Lukas continued speaking, going back to his lecture on arriving on time and respect. Martin tuned it out.
Posted on the door to the English classroom was a seating chart, showing the layout of the desks in their square formation. As students filtered in Gertrude could see how their faces either fell or lit up depending on who they were sitting with. She always tried to seat students with their friends, knowing how it could help them settle in, but also knowing that some friends would simply not do work. But this year, she had mostly made it work. There was only one problematic table for her, composed of people who to her knowledge weren’t exactly close. She knew that Timothy Stoker and Jonathan Sims had worked together before, and their presentation had been accurate and entertaining. Then there was Martin Blackwood, who almost hadn’t returned to school. She was fortunate to be able to convince him to stay in education. Then there was Elias Bouchard, who was adequate in his work, but his attitude needed work- as did his appearance. He was scruffy, and not in the charming, youthful sense. And on occasion she could swear he’d come in smelling strongly of tobacco, vape flavouring and weed. She supposed Martin and Jon could help, at least with his academics, his personality probably wouldn’t be fixed. Then there was Sasha James, who she knew nothing about. But the other students on the table would definitely set her on the path to a decent work ethic. Everyone arrived and the ‘problem table’ hardly acknowledged each other, but she noted a small look of disdain on Jon’s face when he saw Martin and Elias. She also took note of Martin’s growing blush when he saw Jon, as well as Tim and Sasha sharing a look of recognition. She stood in front of the class and cleared her throat.
“Good morning everyone, I am Ms Robinson, she/her. I will be teaching you Shakespeare for the first half of the year and then I will be moving on to your coursework for the second half of the year. Now I know some of you- Jonathan Sims- dislike Shakespeare but this is a requirement of the exam board and I have no say,” she paused for the class to laugh, “and for those of you who I have never taught before, yes, I am missing an eye. There was an accident when I was younger and I opted to have it removed so it has been sewn over and I am half blind. Because of this, I cannot see out of my right eye so be mindful of that if you approach me from that side. That is all I will say on the matter. Now, this is our first lesson and in your tables, which will remain the same for the first half of the year, I would like you to read out the first scene, note down any notable quotes and begin to analyse these. After the first hour we will then discuss these with the class. You may begin.”
Sasha turned to the group as Gertrude handed them the copies of Hamlet, telling them to write any notes in the books as they needed. Everyone on her table was silent. The rest of the tables started to chat but everyone was silent.
“Hi, I’m Sasha,” she said, trying to break the ice.
“You and your dads come into the coffee shop where I work, don’t you?” Tim asked, “I thought I recognised you- I mean who could forget such a pretty face?”
“Tim, please do not flirt with our classmates when we are in class,” Jon groaned, much to Tim’s delight.
“Aw, you sad you don’t have anyone to flirt with? Because there are two lovely bachelors right here,” Tim gestured to Martin and Elias.
The blush crept further up Martin’s neck and both Tim and Sasha laughed, and in the corner of his eye he saw Elias smirk as he said, “yeah that’s not gonna happen mate.”
“So, um, Sasha. Hi, I’m Martin, sorry this is your first conversation in this class I know it’s meant to be work and-”
“No, it's okay. Honestly I’m just glad you guys have a sense of humour, otherwise it’d be quite dull. So, the reading?”
As they set into their work Gertrude kept a close eye on them, fortunately they didn’t hate each other yet and their analytical work was competent, if a little basic, but it was their first lesson and she’d get them to improve. As the class progressed, each student got more comfortable in the room and with each other, and when they began to share ideas, she could see them gain more confidence in their skills.
“Alright, I don’t want us to go too into detail about essay writing and expectations, but next lesson we will discuss essay structures and how to use quotes in an A-level setting. We will be using what we have learnt today to write some essay paragraphs which I will mark. There is no pressure for these to be perfect just yet. While the bell may not have gone, for those of you who wish to leave you may, however those of you who have your EPQ with me, you may take your break in here, although there is no expectation to.”
Elias turned to the table, “alright, I’m gonna set up a group chat so we can have table discussions outside of school, you guys prefer whatsapp or instagram?”
After a group discussion (mostly led by Jon’s lack of instagram) they exchanged numbers, expecting the others to leave.
“I take it we all have EPQ next?” Sasha laughed, as everyone realised what their Mondays looked like.
“Yep,” Tim said, cracking a smile before turning serious, “by the way, I am sorry about the comments I made earlier about the whole flirting thing. I’ll stop if you want.”
The group looked at Tim, realising he actually meant it. The thing about Tim was that he was well built, handsome and was on the school's football team, and most people’s first impression of him (including the rest of the table) was that he was a self-absorbed twat who didn’t entirely know the meaning of the word ‘no’.
“I’m alright with it,” Sasha said, “I think it’s kinda fun to flirt with people. But I do agree with Jon that it should be outside of class if you want to do it.”
Jon, Martin and Elias nodded in agreement.
“Quite. Although you do know about your reputation?” Jon asked, watching as Tim put his blazer back on, with his small ‘Bi’ pride pin attached to his lapel.
“How could I not?” Tim sighed, knowing full well that when he came out as bi exactly two things happened: 1, being queer was much more normalised and accepted because if the cool kids were queer, it didn't matter; and 2, apparently being bisexual meant you liked to sleep around, and with Tim’s radiant and flirtatious personality, the rumours only grew.
Across the table Martin’s face dropped. He knew about Tim’s reputation, and how much it had helped some of his classmates accept him being gay, but the before of it was still fresh in his mind, before it was ‘cool’ to be gay. Before it was ‘cool’ to have the reputation of someone who slept with other people. Martin wasn’t bitter about it. Not entirely. He didn’t hate Tim for having a much nicer coming out, but he also didn’t like people for forgetting everything they did or said about him. He caught Tim’s eye across the table and lipread a small ‘sorry’. Martin gave a small smile in acknowledgement as the conversation shifted away to where Sasha was from, the conversation taking up the rest of the break.
The bell rang to indicate the start of the next class and more people filtered in. The EPQ class was smaller than their English class, but it still spread across 3 tables when full. To say the table ‘people watched’ was a bit of an understatement, all of them explaining who everyone was to Sasha so she at least knew people’s names. It was only when the last two people entered that the table had to stop. The first to enter was a tall goth with badly dyed hair and paint smearing his clothes and face. The second was a tall and lanky man with long blonde hair and a lanyard that said ‘training’. Immediately, most of the table's faces dropped, as did most of the class.
“Holy shit,” Tim gasped.
“What? Who?” Sasha whispered.
“Okay so, the trainee used to be a student here but is training to be a teacher- he was in sixth form when we were really young in lower school. The goth guy? That’s Gerard Keay. Last year he got arrested for killing his mum but he got acquitted because the evidence against him vanished. Like straight up just vanished,” Tim explained.
“I thought he got expelled?” Martin asked, watching as Gerard took a seat in the corner of the room furthest from everyone else.
“If he got acquitted I don’t think they can actively expel him. But there’s a lot of legal grey area as far as I know,” Sasha explained, remembering some of the workplace law she had read over the summer.
Ms Robinson stood up in front of the class and began to give her welcome speech. She set the expectations of the class, explained her eye, explained how Mr Shelley was a trainee and would be shadowing a lot of her lessons and explained the structure of the course. She then asked the class to share their current interests and thoughts on what their EPQ would be.
“Oh and Gerard? Why don’t you join this table for the discussion?” The way Ms Robinson phrased it made it sound like a question, but with the way Gerard reacted, everyone knew it wasn’t.
He walked over to the table and sat next to Elias in the only free chair, already glaring at them all.
“Right, let's get on with this then. Yes I got arrested for murder, yes I got acquitted and yes, I’m still in school. I have to resit year 12 so I’m stuck here for the next two years unless I leave after I turn 18. If you have any more questions, I will not be answering them,” he said, “I plan on making an artefact. It’ll probably be a painting but I don’t know what.”
“Right, I’m going to write an essay. It will probably be about some form of literature or archival things but I don’t know what yet. I plan on going down to some of our local book shops to ask about authors or book collecting,” Jon explained, earning a scoff from Gerard.
“I’m making an artefact. I’m thinking of making a pamphlet about kayaking or extreme sports. Or something similar,” Tim said.
“I might do mine on healthcare,” Martin said.
“I might do an essay on LGBTQIA+ rights within the terms of the law. That is as far as I got really,” Sasha explained.
“Uhhhh weed should be legalised?” Elias guessed, fully not knowing what he was doing.
“Right. Well this has been lovely. I’m going to leave,” Gerard said, laying the sarcasm on thick.
“I don’t think so Gerard,” Mr Shelley said from behind Gerard, stopping him from standing up, “once you’ve shared your ideas, Ms Robinson wants you to help develop the ideas by asking why are people interested in their subject and to ask questions, help people find where the gaps in their knowledge is.”
Gerard scowled and turned back to the group, waiting for the trainee to leave before muttering under his breath. The rest of the table sat in silence, finding awkward silence the only comfort during the interaction.
“I can go first, if people want,” Jon offered.
He started to explain his interests in academia, and how there was a bookshop nearby to where he used to live that had a series of old books. He’d always make sure to stop by after school and try to read some, but couldn’t find any that interested him- until he stumbled upon the horror section. Every few weeks he’d notice the horror section slowly expanding, and how it was part of a private collection from the owner- a Jurgen Leitner. He’d always found the man fascinating, and one day he was able to take a sneak peak into one of the children’s books he’d owned. He didn’t get too many pages in before he was caught and kicked out.
“If I can, I’d like to go back there. See if I can get some first hand quotes. Unless I’m still banned, of course.”
Jon looked at the table, and while most people were at least a little amused by his story, Gerard looked utterly mortified.
“The bookshop, was it- fuck- was it Pinhole Books?” Gerard asked.
“Uh, yeah, yeah it was.”
“Don’t go back there. It’s closed. Permanently. And I wouldn’t be too surprised if it was completely gutted by now.” Gerard snapped. He grabbed his things and stormed out, leaving a hollow gap in Jon’s throat.
It wasn’t that his words had hurt, it was more of the fact that there was no remorse for it. Jon followed Gerard as he left, and watched as Ms Robinson followed. The group fell into silence.
“Hang on, didn’t Jurgen Leightner pass away a few years ago? Or at least the bookshop went under new management?” Elias asked, “and if it’s closed, maybe some of the old books are still there?”
“What, are you suggesting Jon breaks in?” Martin chuckled.
Elias shrugged. The table gasped.
“I- no- I don’t want to- no!” Jon said.
“Okay okay, it was a joke. But, it may be worth checking out where the collection went. Or, if you don’t wanna look at books, Salaeca’s Antiques is alright. Trust me, if you get him talking, he will tell you anything,” Elias said, gaining concerned and confused looks from everyone.
“Elias, may I ask, as the new person, what is your deal?” Sasha asked.
Elias barked out a laugh, “that is a question I might answer at a later date.”
By the time the class had ended, Ms Robinson and Gerard hadn’t returned. Mr Shelley led the rest of the exercises and most of the class left more confident in their ideas, although Mr Shelley fully expected half of the class to change their ideas multiple times. The group left the English room to go and take lunch, and figured four hours together was more than enough for the first day.
“Well today was fun and I can’t wait to lose my mind studying Shakespeare with you guys,” Tim said as they began to part ways, “and Jon, don’t go breaking into any old bookshops.”
Jon gave a soft smile and laughed, trying to convince the others that it wasn’t on his mind.
As soon as the school day ended Jon packed up his stuff and ran. He didn’t want to run far, Pinhole books was at least half an hour away, but he didn’t want to run into any of his classmates. If he was going to break into the bookshop, he didn’t want anyone else to be involved. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his grandma, telling her he was hanging out with new friends- not that she would care, but she would at least want to know if he would be late. The walk was relatively boring, the weather chilling further as he walked and he was slightly glad he had the blazer, regardless of the quality. After forty minutes of walking (with ten of those being guided by google maps after he got lost) he stared up at the faded painted sign of ‘Pinhole Books’. The exterior was painted a dark brown, so faded and chipped that it looked like someone had tried to destroy it themselves. The window on the door was coated in a layer of grime and dust, but Jon could just make out a sign on the other side reading ‘closed’. Jon knocked on the door and tried to look through, but the lack of interior lighting and grime on the window made it impossible to see any movement. He looked down at the lock and reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a set of lockpicks. Why he carried them around, he’d never know. His best guess was intense paranoia, but they were useful when a class door was locked and a teacher didn’t have keys, or when his name was out and he didn't have his house keys. And if the lockpicks didn’t work, the lock looked rusty enough to break. He pulled out the picks he needed and pushed them in, feeling as he picked each pin with ease. He heard the tell-tale click of an open lock and removed his lockpicks to push the door open with a horrific crack.
“Jon, I thought we said not to break in,” Tim said, making Jon jump as he realised there were people behind him.
Jon turned on his feet and let out a sigh of frustration at seeing his English table, “what are you all doing here?”
“We followed you when we realised you were about to do something stupid. Except for Martin. He saw you staring and came outside. He lives nearby,” Sasha explained as she chained her bike to the nearby lamp post, “so, are we heading in?”
“Absolutely not, we are not going anywhere, I am going to break into an old bookshop,” Jon insisted.
“Yeah, no,” Elias said as he pushed past Jon and into the book shop, despite the protests from the other.
The book shop smelled of old. It wasn’t like ‘old’ had a smell, but the must, mildew and general lack of air freshener made it smell old. All of the books lining the walls were dated, improper care left the spines cracked and frayed from their fabric binding and a thick layer of dust covered it all. Every time they stepped, a thin layer of dust separated from the carpet, causing a thick dust fog to gather around their feet.
“Guys, this is really creepy. And it's highly illegal,” Martin said from the doorway, not following them in.
“Yeah, but it’s fun, isn't it?” Elias responded as he pulled out a blunt from his pocket and lit it, letting the thick stench of weed fill the room.
“Christ Elias, can you not? It’s hard enough to breathe with the dust, we don’t need weed in here,” Tim said as he walked further in, finding several spiderwebs lining the door handles.
“Sorry, just figured since we’re doing illegal activities, we should do as many as possible,” Elias joked as he stubbed the blunt on a bookshelf.
They rolled their eyes as they moved deeper into the shop, turning their phone lights on to see.
“This was where the collection was. And, it looks like it’s still here.” Jon said, moving towards the bookshelf he remembered from his childhood.
“Cool, we’re gonna head further in, see if there are any more interesting finds,” Sasha said as she lead Tim and Elias further in.
Almost all of the books were fully intact, and as Jon traced his finger along them he felt a jolt of… something. He found the book he picked up when he was a child, titled ‘a guest for mr spider’ and he gave a small laugh. He opened it and flicked through, not really reading it, but finding himself deeply disturbed by some of the imagery. He put the book down and someone picked it up again.
“Martin?” he asked, suddenly noticing Martin’s presence.
“Yeah. Hi. Sorry I got nervous waiting outside alone and figured I’d be more helpful here. So if you need me to carry anything I can,” Martin smiled softly, but the ambient light from his phone cast shadows across his face, contorting it into something unnerving and uncanny.
“I suppose. You know, as much as I’d want these to be a part of my collection, part of me also thinks I could get quite a hefty sum if I could sell these online,” Jon commented as he lifted another book and saw the familiar name plate: from the library of Jurgen Leightner.
“Well, you’d have to split it with us. We’re the ones helping you find and carry all of this,” Martin said, earning a short laugh from Jon.
“Hm, maybe. What do you think of this one: the watchers crown?”
“Sounds ominous. What’s it about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jon began to thumb through the pages, “something about summoning fears and subjecting everyone to a world of torment. God, it's only half finished. And the last page was hand written.”
At that point, Tim, Sasha and Elias wandered back into the room and saw the two leaning over the book.
“Ooh, is it story time?” Tim joked.
“Yeah read it aloud, let's see how Jonathan Simms reads fine literature,” Sasha continued.
“Hey, I read as Barnado in class,” Jon responded.
“You hate Shakespeare though. And there was no emotion or effort in how you said it. So come on, give us a show,” Elias said, practically throwing the book into Jon’s face so he’d read it.
Jon groaned and agreed, holding the book up and asking Martin to hold the phone. Behind him, he could hear Elias giggling as he brought his phone up to record it.
Jon took a deep breath in and closed his eyes to concentrate: “from this book I unbind, to watch from new eyes, to unseal him I open my eyes, from this book I unbind Jonah Magnus.”
Jon opened his eyes. He could have sworn someone was shining a torch directly into his eyes but he blinked it away. When his vision came back to him, the book was on the floor, Martin had pulled Jon back from something and was letting him rest his body weight against his chest.
“Jon, Jon what did you do?” Tim shouted, but it felt so far away.
Jon focused. He was leaning against Martin, Tim and Sasha were standing nearby, Elias a little further away, still holding his phone up to record. In the centre of the room the book he was reading was glowing. Glowing a bright green. And clawing its way out of the pages was a figure who was dripping in eyes. The breath left Jon’s lungs as if they had been squeezed empty. As it started to emerge fully, the eyes began to run away, like a stream of water was washing them off. In its place was a man. His hair stuck to his skin and his eyes glowed the same neon green that came from the book itself. And Jon knew him. He’d seen his face before, but he couldn’t remember where, his mind too overcome by fear to form a coherent thought.
The thing climbing out of the book locked eyes with Jon and Martin pulled him back, Tim and Sasha running over to defend Jon if the thing attacked. The two held eye contact for longer than Jon would’ve liked. Elias lowered his phone and turned the video off. The thing stepped out of the book and tensed as if it were going to lunge. Jon couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Like a deer in the headlights, a lamb to the slaughter. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the thing that was going to kill him.
“We need to leave- now! Now!” Martin screamed, pulling Jon away.
With the motion he made, Martin forced Jon’s head to move and as he broke eye contact his body kicked into overdrive, using the momentum Martin gave him to run, following Tim and Sasha as they heard the thing begin to chase them, each step a squelch of ooze and eyes hitting the ground.
Sasha broke into daylight first, running into the lamp post to break her stride and turn to see Tim run out and spin his bag so he could swing it at someone’s face. Martin left next, gripping Jon’s wrist as they ran out together. It was then they heard the screaming. It was high pitched and cracked with the force of which air was being pushed out of the lungs that were screaming.
“Oh my god Elias-” Sasha gasped, wanting to run back in.
The screaming cut. Not the cut scream of someone who has run out of breath. The cut scream of someone who physically can’t. Tim backed away from the door, reaching out to shut it as he moved. Jon pulled his wrist out of Martin’s hand and stepped towards the door, watching as the grime caught the green glow in a pattern, revealing how the dust and bacteria had built up. The light faded and the air around them turned stale with fear.
“We need to call the police. We need to call the police-” Martin said, terror and desperation lacing his voice.
“We can’t.” Jon said, his voice hoarse and broken.
“What- what do you mean we can’t?” Martin spat.
“We broke in. We broke in and that was not normal, the police can’t deal with that.”
“But Elias is- oh god elias.” Martin broke down into tears and Sasha put a hand on his shoulder.
“We can’t stay here. We’ve just been in an old building, maybe there was some form of, I don’t know, asbestos, or some hallucinogenic and we saw something but we can’t stay here,” she explained, slowly walking them away.
Tim turned around and threw his backpack on, “I’ll call the police, and I’ll tell them there was a suspicious kid hanging around and I think he broke in. Okay? So if everyone just goes home, we have an assembly tomorrow. Right? So let's just go home and forget this ever happened?”
The group nodded, thankful that someone was taking charge in their shock. Sasha grabbed her bike and Martin ran across the road, while Jon and Tim put on their headphones and walked towards their respective homes, Tim using the time to call the police.
Message from Elias Bouchard, 7.30pm 12th September 2022:
Thank you for tonight. It was rather rejuvenating.