1, the dark

The school verses school competition!

  The city has decided to start the "City's best writer" competition. This competition has the long history of  7 years. Each school's elite writers from each grade, chosen by their teacher directly, will compete with their writing skills in the city hall, in the watch of the judge.

  We believe that each student in our school's classes has tried their best to join the competition, which honors the winner (of each grade) the price money of 50 dollars, and will also be able to present their school with the "City Honor School Flag".

The St. Paul International Academy School newspaper

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"Ah! Not again!" James groaned. Mrs. Eilidh, his english teacher, has given his class another 600 word writing, about Saturn! (It was about the history of board games last time.) (About chinese teapot before that.) (About the Arabian warriors before that.) Why, why would an english teacher do that? An english teacher! James grinded his teeth, convinced that he has a completely evil english teacher.

  Janet shouted to Mrs. Eilidh. "Wow, that is such an great idea!" She winked to her teacher, who grinned happily.

  Everyone in the class looked at her, frowning. Janet has transferred to this school few months ago. She was a good writer, in fact, the best, in this class. (The combination of those who stuck at writing) Since a few days after he arrival, she has been such a "teacher's pet". (Sorry, if any reader is offended.) Everyone in the class seemed to hate her sincerely.

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  Few moments later

  English class was over.

  The class stood up, waving Mrs. Eilidh as she left the classroom. James, who was dozing of the rest of the class, immediately stood up from his chair, hearing everyone's, dragging backwards as they stood up. After Mrs. Eilidh left, everyone took their school bags hanging on their chair. They have already packed it, while James was punching unbelievably childish monsters in his dream. James hurriedly squeezed his papers of worksheets and notebooks into his wrinkled bag.

  His classmates started walking towards the door, in groups of 3 or 4, chatting happily. The last group's member closed the crrekly door, leaving James, struggling with his bag's zippers that just would close, alone.

  James defeated his zippers with his "mighty hands" and ran towards the door.

  James stepped out the room.

  Suddenly, the lights went off.

  Did the light just go off in the school? James was stunned. He hated the dark. It was like a think vapor that he cannot wave or shake away.

  James bit his lip, and told himself it's not scary. He was 14! Not a baby anymore. He forced his hand into his pockets, and made his dry lips to whistle, like nothing's bothering him. It was just the hallway, a hallway of his school. He knew this place, nothing, will pop out, or attack you.

  But no matter how hard he tried, James couldn't let the fear go. He squeezed his hands into his pockets deeper, then soon decided just to take it out. He tried to step lightly, like he was jogging, along with the lousy beat of his shaking whistling.

  Crack! He has stepped on something.

  The sound of two rough things collapsing on each other, right under his feet. James screamed quietly. All the fear he could press down sprang up. He breathed roughly and loudly. What's that?  Immediately, Sixty-two ka-zillion thoughts about what he stepped on slid through his twisting, sweating brain. Ice freezing sweat dropped down from his chin. James' poor heart leaped up so that he imagined it beating in his head next to his brain.

  Then, after a moment of terrified screams, he felt stupid. What is he doing in a hallway, of his very own school, stepping on something, and screaming? In fact, he's 14!    

  James forced out a short nervous laughter to himself, and slowly, bent down to pick up what he stepped on. He forced his poor heart back to where it belonged.

  He unleashed the substance he stepped on, from his nervously closed palms.

  There, lying on his palm, was... a pencil.

  James blinked, then laughed, laughed for his own stupidity. He stepped on a pencil in a hallway, and he was terrified? He threw the pencil, and caught it as it flipped in the air. (He felt cool.) (Uh...ok..) He noticed, the pencil was black, jet black. He lifted it up to his eyes, and examined it carefully. The pencil's smooth wooden body was black, the eraser on the very top was black. The tip of carbon and the sharp wood portion of the pencil between the wood and the carbon, was also black. The metal dividing the eraser and the wood, too, was black.

  James looked at his watch, holding the pencil on the other hand It was only 4:30. James threw the pencil onto the school's hallway floor, back to where it was, and headed towards the school gate. "Bye." He said to the silent pencil, smiling while hopping back home.

The pencil lied quietly on the ground.

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