Young Writers Society

Chapter Eight – The End of a Very Long Exposition

Everything always seemed more obvious when viewed with hindsight. Most of the time, that so-called “clarity” was a self-created illusion, for anyone could regard events in retrospect and identify clues which they neglected to notice, despite said clues not actually being clues at all, and simply a product of regret. (In fact, even a Psychic type would have missed hints of the non-existent variety.)

Then again, sometimes there really were hints to what would happen in the future, in which case one simply has oneself to blame for not noticing them. Unless the foreshadowing was obscure to all but those who already had knowledge about the concerned future occurrence – then you would be excused. But if a Psychic type was the source of any such pieces of seemingly innocuous information, it should also have been obvious. Unfortunately, Psychics never seemed to like clarity much, so they’d take all necessary measures to ensure you remain oblivious.

And so, Darren Cassidy was blissfully unaware of the arrangements that were being made in the capital of the region, for those in charge were influential individuals indeed, and surely their goings-on could not possibly concern him directly (indirectly was much more likely, since they would not be so significantly influential if it did not). After all, Dalton Village was simply a convenient stop on the way to a more important destination, and never the destination itself. Nothing noteworthy would happen there, right?

Maybe. The Divines could have something dramatic in store for the village’s residents, but perhaps they simply liked toying with the minds of those who claim to know their will. They could even toy with those people’s minds and lead them to believe that the expected event would not come to pass, simply to have the event come to pass after all. Divines needed entertainment too, and what better way to do so than by tormenting people with possibilities? (Ifs and ands were their currency.)

But the Divines did not wish to have their stories told, since that would remove the mystery surrounding their existence. No, this story is that of a certain Electrike, and thus, his story will be told. His mornings all began more or less the same way, though, so an author of his story could be excused for skipping the tedious waking scene and proceeding straight to the point where he and his Growlithe friend are on the road to school. Or better yet, where he and his friend stopped outside the Alchemy & Nutrition class and greeted another of their friends.

‘Where’s Tyler?’ Minerva asked after greeting the two boys.

‘He probably overslept,’ Darren suggested, looking around to see if the Axew wasn’t perhaps on his way. When he did not, he turned back to Minerva. ‘Did you bring your notes? You and Aiden finished yesterday, right?’

‘Yes,’ the two fiery canines answered simultaneously.

Darren grinned. ‘Aww, that’s cute.’

Aiden and Minerva both looked appalled. ‘What?’ the former asked incredulously. ‘Me? With her? Do you want the world to end?’

‘Darren, I am offended that you think I would ever be so desperate–’

‘You’re dating Nigel, but sure, keep going,’ Darren quickly interrupted.

‘Rude, both for insulting my boyfriend and interrupting me, but that's beside the point. I would never be desperate enough to date Aiden. I can't see why dating me is so apocalyptical, though.’ She gave Aiden a look that perfectly conveyed her indignation without tarnishing her air of patrician indifference.

‘We’re like a Seviper and a Zangoose, but on friendlier terms. It is not meant to be, now or ever.’

‘Firstly, their species didn’t stop Romeo and Juliet from loving each other, and secondly, that play is controversial because of the stigma it has created surrounding Sevipers and Zangooses.’

‘Well, you two argue enough to be a couple,’ Malcolm said, ‘so I don’t see the problem. Personally, I’d prefer it if you two could just skip to the end of the play already.’

Three heads turned to face the eavesdropping Venipede who was lazily leaning against the wall. Three retorts would have been fired at him too, but he smugly pointed at the approaching teacher, thereby splashing water on the metaphorical match. Most likely, he had chosen his timing for precisely that reason.

Miss Antoinette cheerfully greeted her students, unaware of the tirade she had narrowly prevented, and unlocked the class. Once they had all filed into the class (with the exception of the late Tyler, who ran in, panting) and taken their seats, she announced, ‘There will be no formal lesson for today.’

Most of the class cheered, but Minerva groaned. ‘Again?’

‘Don’t worry, it is not because I have other plans or wish to have a free period, but because today, I want you to test your memories. You will create as many potions – but no poisons, please – as possible, but without advising your textbooks. If you supposedly can’t remember any, then you have my permission to chat in class. Ultimately, you will be the only one who misses out. Misses out on what, exactly? Well, this, of course.’ She pulled a chocolate bar from her suitcase.

All of the pupils responded in awe, either gawking or salivating.

‘That is right! The team that creates the most potions by the end of the period may share this extremely expensive candy between themselves. So, is there anyone who still can’t remember even one potion?’ No response. ‘Okay, then. The supply cabinet is open, so get busy brewing!’