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Authors: Leander Watts
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breath?
No, those were too normal. Knacke would accuse me of something totally bizarro.
"I have a report from Mr. Knacke, and I have physical evidence, that you have been engaged inâ" He was struggling to find the right words. "You have been taking part
in certain rituals, certain occult practices, which we cannot allow to continue on school property. Indeed, if Mr. Knacke is correct, you may be breaking the law too." He leaned in close and it was like a massive stone monument was bending down toward me. "I can't emphasize this enough, Zee. You are going down a path which will only lead to great suffering, to disaster." His huge breath wheezed in and out.
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Evidence?" I asked. It was all so stupid, so wrong.
"Yes, evidence." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a clear plastic bag. Inside was a notebook. Yeah, it was mine. And yeah, I thought I'd lost it the day before. Now I knew where it had gone.
"This is yours, correct?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Mr. Knacke found this in class recently and he thought it important that I know about its existence."
Carefully, he opened the bag and slid the notebook out. "The words you've written here, Zee, are very disturbing. If I didn't know better, I would say they are the product of a diseased mind."
I grabbed for it, trying to get it away from him. But he just stood up, and the notebook was way out of reach.
"What you've written here, and drawn here, is very troubling."
"They're just lyrics to songs. That's all." And some
sketches I made. Relly's hands on the Strat's neck. They were small, and yet they were strong too. Totally sure of what they were doing, his fingers reached to make a chord that had no name.
Frankengoon just stared at me with those huge yellowy eyes.
"I'm in a band, OK?" I said. "There's no law against that. Those are just lyrics to songs me and Relly wrote. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?" He was almost yelling now. "These words are very disturbing, Zee. Vile, occult ravings. You're allowing your mind to travel a truly dangerous path."
He thumbed through the book, and I had the same sick feeling as if he was peeking at me through the bathroom window. "Give it back!" I pleaded.
He shook his head. "What does this mean? 'Beautiful City of the Dead.'"
"It's just a song. That's what they used to call Mount Hope in the olden days."
He turned a few pages. "And this?" His voice was shaking, like he was about to explode.
"
We see our friends are round us falling.
We see them buried deep in dust.
In solemn silence yet they're calling.
Prepare for death, for die you must.
"
"It's the poem off a gravestone. I didn't even make it up." I could feel the tears coming. These were precious words, private words, and he was sneering at them out loud like they were dirty sayings scrawled on a desktop.
Somebody had carved these words on the stones and it was like a voice from two hundred years back talking directly to me.
"Give it back, please?" The worst thing was me having to beg to get back the notebook. "There's nothing bad there. It's beautiful, not wrong."
He glared down at me. "Do you know what happens to young people who get deeply involved in the occult?"
"It's not occult!" I whispered. "It's just words on gravestones."
"Mr. Knacke is convinced that a secret occult conclave has worked its way into the student body here. He, and I, are determined that this school will not be a breeding ground for evil." He said
evil
like it was poison he had to get out of his mouth.
"You've been warned, Zee. We will not tolerate occult practices here. We will do all we must to protect the student body. You can go now."
"I want my notebook back," I said as I got up.
"Out of the question."
"It's mine! I didn't do anything wrong. Give it back!"
"I am keeping this in a safe place. If the time comes that I must use it as evidence against you, Zee, I certainly will. Consider yourself lucky that I have not already
No, those were too normal. Knacke would accuse me of something totally bizarro.
"I have a report from Mr. Knacke, and I have physical evidence, that you have been engaged inâ" He was struggling to find the right words. "You have been taking part
in certain rituals, certain occult practices, which we cannot allow to continue on school property. Indeed, if Mr. Knacke is correct, you may be breaking the law too." He leaned in close and it was like a massive stone monument was bending down toward me. "I can't emphasize this enough, Zee. You are going down a path which will only lead to great suffering, to disaster." His huge breath wheezed in and out.
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Evidence?" I asked. It was all so stupid, so wrong.
"Yes, evidence." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a clear plastic bag. Inside was a notebook. Yeah, it was mine. And yeah, I thought I'd lost it the day before. Now I knew where it had gone.
"This is yours, correct?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Mr. Knacke found this in class recently and he thought it important that I know about its existence."
Carefully, he opened the bag and slid the notebook out. "The words you've written here, Zee, are very disturbing. If I didn't know better, I would say they are the product of a diseased mind."
I grabbed for it, trying to get it away from him. But he just stood up, and the notebook was way out of reach.
"What you've written here, and drawn here, is very troubling."
"They're just lyrics to songs. That's all." And some
sketches I made. Relly's hands on the Strat's neck. They were small, and yet they were strong too. Totally sure of what they were doing, his fingers reached to make a chord that had no name.
Frankengoon just stared at me with those huge yellowy eyes.
"I'm in a band, OK?" I said. "There's no law against that. Those are just lyrics to songs me and Relly wrote. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?" He was almost yelling now. "These words are very disturbing, Zee. Vile, occult ravings. You're allowing your mind to travel a truly dangerous path."
He thumbed through the book, and I had the same sick feeling as if he was peeking at me through the bathroom window. "Give it back!" I pleaded.
He shook his head. "What does this mean? 'Beautiful City of the Dead.'"
"It's just a song. That's what they used to call Mount Hope in the olden days."
He turned a few pages. "And this?" His voice was shaking, like he was about to explode.
"
We see our friends are round us falling.
We see them buried deep in dust.
In solemn silence yet they're calling.
Prepare for death, for die you must.
"
"It's the poem off a gravestone. I didn't even make it up." I could feel the tears coming. These were precious words, private words, and he was sneering at them out loud like they were dirty sayings scrawled on a desktop.
Somebody had carved these words on the stones and it was like a voice from two hundred years back talking directly to me.
"Give it back, please?" The worst thing was me having to beg to get back the notebook. "There's nothing bad there. It's beautiful, not wrong."
He glared down at me. "Do you know what happens to young people who get deeply involved in the occult?"
"It's not occult!" I whispered. "It's just words on gravestones."
"Mr. Knacke is convinced that a secret occult conclave has worked its way into the student body here. He, and I, are determined that this school will not be a breeding ground for evil." He said
evil
like it was poison he had to get out of his mouth.
"You've been warned, Zee. We will not tolerate occult practices here. We will do all we must to protect the student body. You can go now."
"I want my notebook back," I said as I got up.
"Out of the question."
"It's mine! I didn't do anything wrong. Give it back!"
"I am keeping this in a safe place. If the time comes that I must use it as evidence against you, Zee, I certainly will. Consider yourself lucky that I have not already
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