Monday, 18 November 2013

The Professors Nightmare (part 3)

"And that's the leading theory in the creation of Stone Henge." Finished Susan. She went and sat down next to her brother, who she was having to take along for: A. he still needed supervision and B. they needed people to help to supervise the students. "A good talk to you made there Susan." He said.
"No it wasn't. I've done much better in the past, Mark." She replied modestly.
"Not that I've heard. You really are great at this type of thing."
"Well I thank you very much." They'd be sat on the bus for three and a half hours and, because they hadn't gone over everything before the trip, she had been giving lectures for a majority of the ride. "Back in a second, Mark. I need to talk to Jim."
She climbed from her seat and walked over to where the assistant teacher was sat. The bus braked suddenly and she stumbled. But she carried on over to wear Jim was sat, talking to three or four girls, making them laugh with his usual array of jokes. Susan shooed them away and sat down. "You know you can be sacked, even possibly arrested for chatting up students."
"Only if you're a proper teacher. I'm a friendly assistant, who you drag into lesson."
That annoyed her. For once, he'd outsmarted her. "Yes, well anyway. I've got a message from Professor Runcorn. It says to turn to page three hundred and seventy six."
"Of what?"
"No idea. Like all eccentric geniuses, he hasn't dated his journals so I have no idea which to look at."
"How many have you got?"
"Twenty six of them."
"That's gonna be a lot of fun looking through. Which reminds me, what are we looking for?"
"Weird as it sounds, anything with information on Wicca Symbols or umbrellas." She noticed her brother went tense when she mentioned Wicca Symbols.
"That is weird. Any particular reasons?"
"Just a little theory." She reached into her satchel and pulled out the journals. "Let's get looking through!"
It was the last book they looked through that held the information. Information that didn't make nearly as much sense as it could.
When they finally arrived, they threw everything straight into the hotel rooms and rushed to Stone Henge. As they were entering, via the tunnel underneath the road, Susan realized that she was carrying Runcorns umbrella. Funny really. She didn't remember picking it up.
"One of my own umbrellas that." Said an African accent. She turned and saw an elderly African man with a wispy grey beard. It's scary how often stereotypes come into story telling!
"I'm sorry?" Answered Susan.
"I make a lot of umbrellas and walking sticks. I recognize that as one I made for the summer solstice. Ended up selling it to a professor though. Professor Denteld or something. I remember he died, quite mysteriously. In the middle of a storm. How did you get it?"
"I got it from a professor who died. He got it from a professor who died. And I'd wager he got it from a professor who died too."
"I wouldn't like your chances."
"Neither do I."
"Good luck. Miss Applade."
She continued walking. And then she turned around, curious. "How did you know my name?"
He was gone. She put it beside her though, and continued. Nothing was going to ruin this trip.
They spent the rest of the day, writing about what they thought of stone henge, discovering strange artifacts and, of course, having a great time.
But then a group of the students wanted to go for a walk. So she decided to take them for a stroll through the hills, with her brother and Jim.
She was using the umbrella as a walking stick, as it was one of the many things that and umbrella could do, such as: protection from a storm; a shield in the rain and even block out the sun. They'd gone about a mile, when they students said they wanted to head back. Jim said he'd take them whilst Mark and Susan went for a bit of a further walk. They were walking and then she accidentally speared Marks foot with her umbrella. "Oh sorry, Mark! No harm meant." She continued walking but he didn't.
She turned back and saw him there. Standing, angry. "Are you ok, Mark?" She asked.
He remained silent.
"What's wrong?"
He screamed with rage.
"Mark. What's going on?"
He rushed towards her and punched her face.
"Mark?" She said, holding her face. "What are you doing?"
He grabbed her neck and started squeezing it. "Mark?" She wheezed. Her lungs not receiving the air.
"Mark, release me."
"Praise the goddess of the three moons. Praise the goddess of the three moons." Chanted Mark.
"JIM!" Screamed Susan as she nearly stopped breathing. "JIM!"

To be continued.

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