There was the chattering of children behind the door, as they in their ways conversed with one another with laughter to mumbling words. The only barrier in front of Glenn was the warden of the classroom and the door that seemed to make his heart rattle in its confines. Mr Harold twisted the doorknob and the boom of sound waved through Glenn’s eardrums, as the class noticed two figures entering upon their domain.

“Quiet down children.” Mr Harold's voice mirrored a feather in the air, gentle and soft. Although the depth of it brought discipline amongst any child, none wanting to face the abyss of his tone. He stood neither straight or slouching his back but in a manner between the two, breeding a stance of calmness. The students amid conversation abruptly stopped focusing on his words, waiting like marine soldiers. Glenn could sense the eyes stabbing lances into his skull, it was curiosity forged with sympathy to blend an eerie gaze. The boy did not want to interlock with any of the stares and to escape, he looked downwards meeting the wooden floors for the first time.

“This is Glenn, he will be our new student. Treat him nicely with respect, as to how you would with your classmates. Does anyone have any questions?” Mr Harold spoke broadening his voice across the room.

Someone rose their hand, unknown to Glenn whose eyes were glued to the floor.

“Yes, Stacey?” The teacher replied.

The person who was about to ask a question had hair black as coal. Glenn would find his nerves that were straining like an elastic band from the eyes on him to snap if he looked up. A familiar girl who once smiled at him asked cheekily.

She spoke with confidence pointing in accusation, “Sir, why did you say ‘he’ isn’t that person a girl?”

The room found itself lost in an earthquake of laughter, children giggling attempting not to laugh, one of them in disdain but most hiding smirks. Glenn’s heart dropped at the words understanding the past was slowly becoming the present again. He had enough of the bullying and his mouth was ready to shout until Glenn saw who it was that had insulted him. She had been staring at him previously before with a smile that tugged his heartstrings. His mind was boggled at why would someone hate the person they once smiled at but tremble he did with fury about to curse. Glenn was interrupted by the teacher who warmly clutched his shoulder, they met gazes and in understanding the boy became silent, hoping the teacher wouldn’t let the girl getaway.

“Stacey you will not act rude to Glenn, I will have you know he is more of a man than any of the boys here who laughed.” Mr Harold spoke disappointed at her remark.

She smiled brightly once again and the teacher already predicted what she was going to exclaim with her hand up.

“But he looks like a girl, sir.” Her arm raised straight almost as if it were trying to reach the ceiling.

The teacher sighed almost struggling to continue this conversation with her acting innocent but hiding a mischievous side. He spoke once more to end this dispute, “Apologise to Glenn or else your father will be getting a phone call right now.”

She paled at the threat and words of apologies trickled forth from her mouth. Slightly bowing her head. Glenn caught a glimpse of a grin, as she tried to disguise the amusement still lingering onto her face. At least Mr Harold reigned over the class with control, the pacing fell back into his hands, as if mischief had never existed within this room.

“Your seat is beside the window next to Jacob, Glenn.” He pointed to a seat empty beside the window where a boy who stared at Glenn with every step he took. Fiery hair that was ungroomed for days, seemed to be planted on a boy’s head like a mop paired with eyes that were ignited with contempt. Natural red separating him from everyone else of brown and black yet he seemed forgotten by everyone, a droplet within the ocean. Planting his body into the chair beside the boy who embodied the figure of a bodybuilder. Glenn took out pencils remembering where they were placed, in the chance of them being stolen. The simple action was strenuous feeling his fingertips jitter, as the boy beside him was gawking at every movement he did.

Mr Harold started class at once with everything settled. He spoke of the town Mount Giest, introducing its history for Glenn in a storytelling manner, whilst reminding his students this will be on the tests. A collective sigh that could blow piles of leaves left the mouth of the boys and girls. They wrote notes with focus, striking the tips of their pencils onto paper to create strokes of words. The teacher used many gestures swinging his hands about to entertain the class of their short attention span, retelling a tale long forgotten.

He spoke to the class as a whole not ignoring a single student, glancing to see if they were absorbed in his explanation saying, “ The town we breathe and sleep in was not always known as Mount Giest but as Saint Cerda.”

Mr Harold strides roamed the classroom. He asked students randomly, “ What was Saint Cerda infatuated with?”

Stacey answered dashing her hand through the rows of arms that pointed up. She said in a smug tone, “It was known for its attachment to religious faiths.”

“That is correct but wrong at the same time, a paradox we have on our hands now, would anyone want to help Glenn understand the history of our town.”

Jacob raised his hand, still peering at Glenn, who was lost at the compelling story that was being told. Red hair slumping to the front, blinding his view now but he answered with confidence beyond anyone else. “The witch hunts that spanned from the 15th to the 18th century, at first they were known, feared and later hunted to death.”

Stacey interjected poking insults at Glenn further, who was imagining living in the time of knights, “If Glenn lived in the 17th century he’d be mistaken for being a witch.”

The room giggled but Mr Harold had enough of her teasing and drew a phone from his pocket. The girl in terror placed on her best act to persuade the teacher but none could sway his thoughts, sentencing Stacey to death by lecturing from her father. She looked sullen not wanting to pay attention anymore. The classroom went back to the topic returning to the conversation of town Mount Giest.

“Your answer Jacob was correct, full marks. Now how is this relevant you may ask pupils to the world of education, finding a path that will leave you to your treasure of an A-plus.” None looked amused almost cringing at his wordplay and he continued pretending to clear his throat with coughs.

“The town of Saint Cerda with its original settlers vanished without a trace, untouched by the time when our ancestors arrived. Many claims say that the witches plotted revenge, massacring the town of its people, dragging them into their chasm of corpses. When our great great great grandfathers found this place, what remained was spoiled food and dust submerging the town. They told stories of hearing the whispers of souls that weep for help. Our ancestors renamed the town as Mount Giest because…..”

He waited for someone to answer and Jacob raised his hand once more, confused how Mr Harold ever became a teacher. “Giest in german meaning spirits whilst the Mount symbolises a mountain, therefore mountain of spirits."

Mr Harold smiled giving a thumbs up to the boy, continuing, “Some say the witches still live hiding in the shadows of the woods, planning for when they strike again in vengeance.”

Stacey contradicted the teacher immediately, as revenge for calling her parents, “Mr Harold, isn’t it theorised by many that the people just left. The black plague had hit the town, so they buried all alive with the disease blaming satan and went to another place.”

All students nodded whilst Glenn was ingrained into the story listening with interest.

Mr Harold said shaking his head at his inquiring pupils, “That is what the people of present say but I believe more in the individuals who breathed the air of that era.”

Stacey was becoming frustrated, many other students were agitated as well at the reply. She asked straightforwardly, “Do we say the witches killed them or they left due to the black plague in the test.”

The teacher coughed blushing at his mistake and confirmed to them that they should write the black plague was the driving force of their disappearance. The recess bell rang smashing against steel alarming all children that their torture sentences were finished. Boys and girls darted out of class playing games and returning to their conversations before class. Glenn placed his pencil back into his plain case that locked away his valuables from the hands of thieves. He was the last one to leave and when he reached the door, Glenn was met with Mr Harold wanting to talk with him.

He fiddled with his apple in hand trying to figure out what to say but Glenn was ahead of him already saying, “Thank you, sir, for not letting Stacey bully me.”

The man’s right bushy eyebrows raised high. “That is my job, Glenn. There is no need to thank me, rather l should be apologising on behalf of Stacey.”

Now it was Glenn’s turn to raise his eyebrows, as Mr Harold spoke of the girl, “She wasn’t always mean, Stacey was the role model of a good student but somewhere along the track, she changed. She won’t tell anyone why but I have my suspicions. If you can find in your heart to forgive and be friends with her then that would be good news to my ears.” Smiling, a man that had experienced hate and love, he spoke from his belly bellowing a low laugh like Santa.

“Run along now, youth such as yourself shouldn’t speak with an old man.” Mr Harold’s words could compete with the warmth of summer, He wasn’t old. In fact, he was young. Older than Glenn’s mum by a couple of years but he’s eyes seemed ancient, lost in an ocean of mystery to the boy.

A sandwich made with love, Glenn ate sitting on a bench behind the school’s playground for kids. It was mild at best in taste but he knew that to complain about food was being spoiled. He felt something ominous was about to occur like spiderman but rather than being bitten by a radioactive spider, he had been trained to react to danger, especially from bullies.

Stacey with her group of friends mainly girls stood in front of him. They loomed over him with hands at their hips, the ring leader seemed to be the mischievous girl who had teased him many times over. She strode forwards standing in front of Glenn defiantly.

“You know I'm going to get lectured by my dad because of you,” Stacey uttered expecting a reply.

Glenn simply continued eating his food unbothered by her, he thought maybe she was more than the standard bully but it appears Mr Harold was deceived by her as well. She smelled of arrogance just as all the other bullies had, hungry for amusement, no matter the cost. He gave no pleasure to her by lending his ear to the arrange of insults she would berate him with. Stacey was on the edge of exploding from the madness of silent treatment he gave but stepped back noticing who was in front of him. Glenn in his action of walking bumped into someone of tall stature, bolstering arms thicker than logs. He had thought it was a gym teacher at first but upon sight, he noticed that it was the person who had stared at him the entire lesson. His blood-red hair still giving any OCD, hell at the mess he wore.

Jacob glared at Stacey, both didn’t back down until the girl raised her nose haughtily turning around with her bunch. They were moths attracted to the light, never knowing whether the most beautiful thing they prized may burn them instead. The tall man-boy hissed at the leaving girls muttering, “Idiots will always follow idiots.”

Placed in a situation he never experienced before Glenn scratched his wrist, then placed a handout. He said in appreciation but his expression matched the face of someone confused, “Thank you for saving me.”

Jacobs laughed understanding Glenn’s confusion. He said, “I didn’t save you asshole.”

The look on Glenn was priceless, the curses kept spewing out of the boy’s mouth, with his arms larger than a tree trunk flapping about. Words that Glenn had never heard before were formed into sentences coherent and punctuated to articulate a paragraph of bad words. The muscular boy’s jaw grew tired after a while and had stopped noticing Glenn expressionless after he’s rapid shots of offensive language. He was still registering the words like a broken computer that was crashing at every reboot and finally with the help of Jacob who yelled, “HELLO!”

Awake no longer drowsy, Glenn met eyes with the boy for the hundredth time. He had never met him but there was a sense of familiarity, yet he could not grasp onto where he had seen him before. Jacob looked down at him and now comprehended that Glenn had no clue to who he was.

“You don’t remember me do you?" He asked stunned.

“Um.. sorry no. Am I meant to?” Glenn questioned unable to figure if Jacob was here to hurt him or was just a very challenging person to understand.

“Of course you don’t, people like you never remember the ones below them. I’m no different to you than the idiots that follow Stacey.” Jacobs breathed out, minus a few curse words that Glenn pretended not to hear.

He spoke of being a violinist player in the Europe contest that was held in the year of 2004, where many people of young age gathered to compete for an award. Glenn slowly remembered the old competition he once entered and won first place. His memories were strained immensely, finally, he realised that Jacob was the child from many years back that had cried at not coming in the top three, placing fourth. Cautiously Glenn cast his gaze on the body of Jacobs that had the genetics of Hercules, unable to fathom how he changed from a cry baby to the physique of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He walked away before saying a few more curses ranging from the letter A to Z and a statement that blazed Glenn’s past passion.

“I will be better than you ever will be at being a violinist. Remember my name and burn my face into your irises, the name Jacobs Schmitt.” He said, still looking towards him. Glenn had wanted to warn him that there was a pole in front. It was too late, as head and metal collided, it was hard to decide who won in the collision.

Left alone now, finally by himself to finish his sandwich that became staler with every bite. Glenn noticed Stacey entering the classroom with her pack that was what Jacob liked to call idiots. They left giggling and in their laughter, a boy near a bench watched them leave, where he sat eating his deformed sandwich. Hands shaking with a grip squishing the content of the sandwich with the bread. The bell rang clanging against steel. Returning to lessons of words and numbers, a class with girls whispering together, waiting for their target to enter the room. Glenn trooped into the room with a serene face but he was scratching his wrists with an intensity equal to the pack of chuckles. He sat and observed his belongings that were gone, hidden away by Stacey most likely.

Glenn marched towards her table not caring about the beginning of class. Mr Harold caught sight of the boy’s expression, stone-cold but hands quivering as they were carried beside his body. Now in front of Stacey, he asked with a tremulous voice, “Give my pencil case back.”

Everyone stared at the exciting moment that drew the room to silence. Stacey laughed propping on a facade of confusion inquiring what did he ever mean. Glenn slammed the table with his fists, feeling his body be plunged into a pool of adrenaline. Boys and girls all started howling “fight”, the word roaring in the classroom. Jacob left the room slipping past everyone's focus on the conflict, as he already knew what was about to happen. Mr Harold now stood up in his seat trying to gain order in the room but too late it was. Glenn threw a punch landing square on the face of Stacey that had wide pupils now gasping in surprise. She tasted blood and her eyes saw crimson, she swung her arms in an attempt to attack. Students began pumping their fists into the air at the view of the battle between Gwen and Stacey. Each landing punches, elbows to kicks, it was a tornado of limbs flying about.

Mr Harold leapt forward ending the match, bellowing a deafening roar, “SHUT UP!!”

Dead-quiet the classroom was, the teacher scanned his eyes across the room and breathed out deeply for the sake of not yelling again. Chest heaving up and down in steady rotation, he uttered to the students within the classroom, “Out.” At first, they did not register the word but when they did, their legs reacted faster pulling their bodies out of the room. Stacey and Glenn tried escaping as well with the crowd but Mr Harold’s eyes zoomed in on their tracks. Snatched into both hands, as they hung being mute afraid to trigger another natural disaster, that was Mr Harold’s unstable anger.

The staff at the office could hear a large group of footsteps but their phones were more important. One of them with hazel hair asked, “Do we have a gym session in school today?”

Another replied, “It’s probably just the students being rowdy.” Seconds went by and the floor was no longer still, the view of bodies was brought to their sight. A sea of children raced past them as they tried to withhold them but too fast they were.

“How many children just ran out?” A staff member asked.

"About an entire classroom.”

The hazel haired woman questioned with a shaky voice, “We’re not gonna lose our jobs are we?” They all met each other gazes and ran out trying to chase after the kids. In another part of the town, thirty minutes later after the incident, a phone rang. It bounced across the floor, wiggling about until the drunk Emma placed it to her ear answering the call.

“Hello this is.. Emma speaking.” she paused between words almost about to vomit. Emma could hear yelling and then something about her son fighting with a girl and causing a ruckus within the school. Her brain at first registered Glenn then the word fight and school, slowly the pieces fell into place. Now sober she shrieked causing birds near the house to fly away, “GLENN DID WHAT!” She hunched over to spew out her lunch of instant noodles and wine, begging her stomach to stop.