Masterpiece

“Not yet you moron! This isn’t the right time….it needs to be the same as the book, the same as the story…..your story…our story.”

Malcolm tried to ignore the voice, but it was too strong now…he had listened to it too much. He had allowed it to take over his thoughts too often….all in the name of creativity, he thought to himself, a wry smile crept fleetingly onto the corner of his mouth. He slowly withdrew his hand from inside his brown leather satchel and rubbed a shaking sweaty palm on his corduroy trousers. He dabbed a perfectly white cotton hanky at the beads of sweat which were beginning to appear on his forehead.

“You need to calm down, go back to the staff room and get yourself together, grab yourself a glass of water….otherwise you’re gonna blow the whole thing. We’re too close to mess this up now!”

The tatty lockers that lined the walls laughed at him as he shuffled along the dimly lit corridor towards the staff room. The rancid smell of teenagers, crawled out from the chewing gum that hung like barnacles under every table and oozed from the woefully bad artwork displayed on the walls. He used to like the smell, so full of promise, hope and possibilities. But now it was full of disappointment, anger and regret. Regret at what he himself could have become if he’d chosen a different path….if he’d followed his own dreams, instead of choosing to help others achieve theirs. What a waste of time.

 By now most of the pupils were sitting in the classrooms that tormented him from behind dimpled glass windows. Only a few stragglers scurried away as they saw him approaching. Head down, clutching his satchel, muttering to himself as he always did. Occasionally he would hear their words….their taunts….their cruelty. But most of the time, these days, all he could hear was the voice in his head.

The staff room fell to quiet whispers and pity filled glances as he entered. Probably talking about me, he thought to himself…laughing at me….they won’t be laughing soon. He thought. They won’t be laughing when I finish my story…my masterpiece.

Doug Heddeson, or Mr. H as he preferred to be called, grinned while he stirred his coffee. His muscular forearms displayed faded tattoos. A constant, deliberate reminder to every one of his military past. He wore a t- shirt and shorts all year round and openly favoured the students that were good at sport. He seemed to lead every conversation from his crotch, thrusting it forward at every opportunity. Malcolm had always thought of him as the biggest bully in the school and avoided eye contact, or any contact with him whenever he could.

“Hey Malcolm!....How’s the Novel coming along?..... How long’s it been now?..... What’s it about thirty years you’ve been writing it?....Must be one hell of a story!” 

Doug’s boomy, sarcastic voice, echoed round the staff room. Other staff members whispered to one another and turned to stare at Malcolm. Their sick car crash mentality making it impossible for them to take their eyes off him. The room fell silent again. Malcolm stared at his shoes. He slipped his hand back inside his satchel and rested his palm against the cold metal, letting his finger stroke the trigger.

“No you dummy….not yet…..not now…..he’s just a moron….a jock….don’t let him bother you. You want him to ruin everything we’ve done. Get a grip. Get yourself together! This is not how it ends….remember?”

Like a cat toying with a mouse, Doug thrust his crotch forward and continued.

“What’s it about? Is it about how boring being an English teacher is? My god man that’s nearly as boring as religious studies!”

He shot a look at Miss Walker, who shifted in her seat. Her cheeks obligingly flushed scarlet as she fiddled uncomfortably with the floral silk scarf round her neck.

Malcolm raised his head and looked round the room. He looked into the eyes of his peers. He saw pity, he saw torment, he saw sadness.

“It’s about life….and death….and it’s finished, today….I’ll finish it today.”

The staff room mumbled to itself quietly. He pushed his round rimmed glasses back up his nose and faced Mr H.

“It’ll finish today.”

On a leafy suburban street not far from the school, Malcolm’s laptop gently hummed to itself on the desk. The room was dim, the curtains closed. Only the gentle light from the screen illuminated the cluster of half empty coffee cups that surrounded it, they looked like a gang of unruly teenagers hanging about in a park. The faint smell of sweat hung in the air but was overwhelmed by cold, stale coffee. The walls were covered with old books on shelves. The dusty, coffee stained surface of the desk was scarred with words, frantically calved into the wood. Piles of unmarked papers were stacked up on the floor, where, Malcolm’s beloved old ginger cat lay dead in its basket. Its broken neck hidden by its fur. Its body just clinging to the final warmth of life. On the screen were the final words of a lifetimes work, the conclusion, the masterpiece.

It read.

And so it ends as everything must.

From birth to death, thus the circle is complete. We have tried but we have not failed. For if you are not failing you are not trying. This flock can still be saved, for I have listened. Saved from their endless torture. Saved from a world of constant failure and disappointment. I have tried for many years to rescue them. Year after year I tried, but I had to watch them fail. They need fail no more. They will become immortal, like the precious books in the library. Their names will live on as the lucky ones.

The ones who we saved.

The ones who we helped.

Today we finish this.

Today it ends.

Today we will save them.

In the classroom Malcolm slid open his desk drawer and placed his satchel inside. He opened the flap and slid his hand in and out a couple of times. Feeling the cold metal each time. Satisfied, he closed the drawer. He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sound of the room. The chat, the laughter, the scraping of chairs on the floor. He breathed in deeply taking in the smell. The smell of hope he thought to himself….finally, the smell of hope.

He watched, a young girl, sat motionlessly in amongst the chaos of the classroom. Head down in a book, completely oblivious to the failing, tortured world around her. He looked a little closer.

“Miley! What are you reading?”

The girl was absorbed in the pages, lost in her own world.

He walked over to her desk. The rest of the class continued with their futile chat as if he wasn’t there.

“Miley! What are you reading?”

Miley looked at Malcolm still lost in her book.

“Oh, sorry sir….I was miles away.”

She lifted the book and showed him the cover.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet sir…..Its William Shakespeare Sir….I love him!”

Malcolm absorbed her words. Dizziness washed over him and he grabbed at a chair to steady himself. He could feel his chest tightening, the noise of the classroom suddenly became deafening. The girl continued to talk but he could only watch her lips moving. He stumbled back to his desk tripping over a carelessly discarded bag. He could hear laughter through the ringing in his ears. He couldn’t breathe.

“What was I thinking? They aren’t all lost….Miley isn’t lost…. No, no, no this is wrong. What am I doing?” He was talking out loud, staring at the drawer. “This has to stop!”

“NOW…DO IT NOW!”

“NO!” He screamed.

The laughter in the classroom got louder. He could feel them looking at him. Mocking him.

“Now you moron….you have to do it now….you need to save them….they are lost without you….do it now…MAKE THEM IMMORTAL!”

The voice in his head drowned everything out. He reached a shaking hand down to the drawer and slowly slid it open. Without hesitation he slipped his hand into the satchel and felt the gun snuggly fit into his palm.

“BE QUIET!” He screamed at the class. “BE QUIET!”

The sniggering stopped and the students stared. As he rose to his feet he heard screaming and chairs falling, as teenagers dived under tables and fled for the door.

“Now you idiot ….do it NOW!”



He grasped the gun tightly and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled.

Then, with tears streaking down his face, he squeezed the trigger.