Strange Short Stories

The school had set these exams in accordance with the requirements of the external examination board’s very precise curriculum.

This was not an easy set of requirements and only the brightest pupils were entered for the exam. Nnot all would pass at a sufficiently high standard to continue their education at the next level.

For the pupils here at Warwick Hall Secondary School this was the ultimate, the very peak of their previous five years of education. Those that had not made the fifth grade had already left school to take up menial work wherever it could be found.

These girls and boys, the best of the best, had been entered for these particular exams because of their educational uptake in this last year. The school’s internal exams had been set, taken and the results employed to determine who would be allowed to progress and be entered for this definitive moment in their lives.

Whoever could pass these exams with merit would be entered for a college place with those achieving such a pass being awarded a scholarship entry to the better of the available prestigious colleges.

Angela was among the brightest of the students despite coming from a relatively poor family. Her father was a hard working man toiling in the distant steelworks as a labourer. Her mother was a part time seamstress working at home whenever she could obtain work from the new emporium in town.

They didn’t have a lot of spare money after the household bills had been paid but whatever was available had gone for their only daughter’s schooling. She had been a bright child from the off and they had decided to give her the chance in life that had not come their way.

Angela had benefited from the essential school items at the expense, often, of her parents’ meals. Angela was never allowed to be aware of this, her life was one of enjoyable schooling and study; she had taken to it naturally. Tom and Sarah smiled that inward knowing smile at each other, without Angela ever noticing, or so they thought, each time she had come home with news of her latest achievement.

Now the last year was not only here but nearly over. All that was required was for the final exams to be sat and passed, for Angela’s progress to move on to even greater heights. Angela had become only too aware of the sacrifices, both small and great, that her parents had been making. The one thing she knew she must never do however was to let them know just how much she really understood and was truly appreciative of.

If she could achieve a pass good enough to be awarded one of the few scholarships available, then her parents never ending expenditure on her education would cease. She had passed the school’s internal exams with ease and gained meritorious marks in all subjects.

Now it was the time for the externally set exams and she must put in the extra effort to achieve what her heart wished for.

The school was typical of its time for a location deep in the now changing countryside and it was already old when Angela passed through its doors as a beginner all those years ago.

She had progressed from the reception classes, through the junior section and now with those that were educationally suitable she had all but completed the senior section. She had taken to learning as if she was breathing the clean air of this place. Some topics she had found difficult to master, particularly Euclidian geometry but once the concepts and basic reasoning were there, it was as though she had been at home with the subject all her life.

These final exams had been an anxious time for those selected to take them except for Angela. She had been anticipating the opportunity to show just what she was capable of.

There had been some two dozen pupils at the start of the exams, the girls in their pinafore, gym slip style uniforms and straw hat, the boys in their long trousers and blazers. All had assembled in the small senior school hall and taken their seats at the named places laid out on the desks. The week long set of exams had started with the hardest one, the dreaded geometry with which Angela had stuttered a little previously until she had mastered the requisite understanding. Now in the exam she had answered all the questions set with an unerring accuracy and even had time to go over them all again and within the time limit; she was that good.

Other subjects had followed and the great start that she had made on the first day set her mind for all subsequent days and this attitude now served her well. The final exam, English Language, requiring both a free thinking approach and some creativity where composition was concerned, was upon them all.

All pupils were seated in anticipation. The invigilator, Miss Stokes, a firm but fair sort of teacher, was determined to keep a grip on this exam, the very last in the series.

The pupils taking his exam were all assembled in the hall, sat behind their old wooden desks in the same named places.

“Be Quiet,” Miss Stokes announced, “and face this way.”

“No turning round, no cribbing, no talking or anything else that will give me the impression that you are trying to gain an advantage or you will instantly be dismissed.” She was repeating the same words from the beginning of the week.

A short pause and then the instruction “Turn over your papers.”

The standard words for all the exams but delivered rather sharply here by Miss Stokes as was her wont.

“You now have two and a half hours to complete this exam,” she advised. “You may start, now.”

There were only six questions on the paper, the first five of which concerned variously comparisons in existing writers’ texts extracted from samples of their books, grammatical styles, syntax and the structure of compositions.

The very last and sixth question was pure essay composition requiring imagination and a sense of creativity combined with an understanding of construction. The subject was left with the student taking the exam except that the length of the composition must be at least one to two thousands words in length.

Angela had taken her time with the first five questions but without pause and taking undue time with them; now for the composition.

Angela had decided upon a theme.

Browsing one of her Mum’s books a few weeks back, she had come across something that had intrigued her. Her Mum had a series of old books that lived in a simple book case and they had always caught her attention. Her Grandma had given her Mum these books on her wedding day, so she had been told, as a gift. They were considered most precious. Angela had not been allowed access to them until these final weeks of her last year at school.

Her Mum considered her now sufficiently careful with and respectful of such things and actually requested Angela to take a look at them. Her Mum had no great learning and had only glanced at them occasionally, not really understanding their content or the delicate maps that were folded carefully inside them. The request had been taken by Angela as one of the greatest offers of her life. She even made sure that time was found in her exam preparation to not merely glance through them but to select one for deeper reading. It was the subject matter of one that would form the content of her exam composition.

The book had concerned the Great Flood, as described in the Bible, but from a different perspective altogether. What she had read had added colour and possibly a different interpretation of events. She was now deep in thought wondering from which direction she should start her composition. She had now the necessary ideas to make a start.

She was a bright young lady and this exam she was taking, or this part of it, was of real importance to her; the greatest importance. Pass this exam and the others she had also taken, could see her lined up for a college scholarship. She had the topic, as controversial as it might be and was now pondering upon the opening statements.

One word, just one word, the one she had come across in her Mum’s books was essential but she could not now bring it to mind. A mental block was setting in and the more she thought the worse it got; just one word, that’s all she now needed.

Then it happened; someone whispered in her left ear. She couldn’t make out what was being said; perhaps she was starting to dream. Who would be stood in the aisles between the rows and columns of desks and dare to talk to her, here and now of all times?

Carefully she raised her head from its position close down to the blank piece of paper. This awaited her filled pen to start the flow of words that would surely come once that one word came into her thoughts. If she had the word, then she would know where to put it into her stream of thoughts and of course, into the construction of her essay.

Then it happened again, the whisper in her ear was louder this time but the words were unclear; she had to be dreaming, of that she felt certain.

One more time the word was spoken and this time it was quite audible, “Antediluvian.” That was the word, that really was the word, and her mind lit up as though a light bulb had been turned on.

But who was speaking in her ear. Angela couldn’t help but look left to see who had had the nerve to speak to her after an exam had started. She turned her head slowly to the left to find out who had given her the word she had needed.

“Angela. What are you doing?” barked out Miss. Stokes. “You know the rules. Turn your head back to the front and don’t let me catch you doing that again.”

Angela’s head shot back to its forward looking position and she smiled inwardly at the use of Miss Stokes’ words, “Turn your head back to the front.” She let herself see these words as a sort of oxymoron joke.

“Sorry Miss. Stokes,” she managed to utter quickly with barely a trembling voice. Her throat was now dry; the adrenalin was flowing freely from the fright of breaking the exam rules which she understood only too well. She dare not flunk this exam, the most important above all others. She had a skill at writing although it seemed, until a moment ago it had deserted her.

No one had been stood there anywhere near to her left. She wanted to check again but having been told the word that had been missing, why look again to find out who it was or wasn’t? She was nothing if not pragmatic. Get on with the exam which could now flow freely; the block was removed and her thoughts started to gather themselves together in the correct order.

The title of this work, this essay, the most important words at this moment in her life, took form and she put pen to paper.

“The Antediluvian World”

§

“I have had a good life,” mused Angela, rocking so gently to and fro on the porch of this old house. From where she was sat in the old rocking chair, almost as old as the house itself, she could see the collection of old buildings that had once been the only school in town.

“How things have changed,” she continued murmuring to herself.

She had experienced a full and mostly academic life, the result of those exams taken when a young sixteen year old. Life had been good ever since.

From school, where she had won her scholarship, through college and on to a University place where she read English obtaining a first class degree. Her Mum Sarah, had been the proudest lady in the county. Sarah had attended the graduation ceremony (her father not so as work had to take precedence) and found herself grinning uncontrollably all the way through. She wasn’t alone in this as many parents were similarly excited and happy at their offspring achieving so much.

Of course there were those who had placed great expectations on their children and took their place in the echelon of achievers for granted; they could be identified so easily by their lack of a smile.

Angela had not only achieved a degree of the first order but was awarded an Emeritus prize for her high achievement at being the most successful for many years with her final thesis submission.

Her career had gone forward in leaps and bounds, lecturing at colleges, preparing papers on ancient use of languages and many other things. There was one area at which she had not succeeded however, and that was at finding love or a suitable partner that could compliment her academic life.

With hindsight, time had moved forward far too fast. At the time she had flung herself headlong into whatever challenges came her way without a thought of how time was passing. Her Dad Tom, and then a few years later her Mum Sarah had reached their allotted time and left this world. Angela with the same respect still for her parents as she had had as a young girl and a college student, returned for each funeral, staying a while and funding all costs, these in addition to the regular sums she had always sent home to supplement their meagre pensions.

Now also retired after having continued with her academic life several years beyond a normal retirement age, she had sought out a final quiet respite in her old home town.

She had been lucky and had managed to find a property on the only hill in town that overlooked the old areas still hanging on despite the many developments all around. She had an almost clear view of the old school buildings, where it had all started for her.

Sitting here on her old rocking chair with a glass of her favourite Port, she could relax at last and reminisce of where she had been, what she had done and what achievements she had garnered but also at what cost personally.

The school was still standing but completely unused. The roof shingles were falling off slowly, one at a time as the old nails rusted and the old caretaker was no longer there to carry out any repairs. What had happened to the roll of honour in the school hall where her name had been inscribed in gold letters? What of the teachers, Miss Stokes in particular?

Angela had neglected to keep contact with her old school, her college yes, but where it had all started, no. It had saddened her when a friend still in town had written to her telling of the demise of the old school, being closed as a new series of buildings on the far side of town took its place. She had returned home as soon as she could after retirement only to find the gates chained and locked with a notice telling of the danger of a derelict building if deciding to trespass.

That had saddened her as much as the loss of her mother. Both had had so much influence in her life; without them she would never have achieved what she did. She owed them both a great deal and this could not now ever be repaid and that continued to lay so heavy in her heart.

“I have done my time, I have achieved what I set out to and much more besides, do not be upset, this is the way of things,” passed through her thoughts as it had done on so many previous occasions. Sat here on her old rocking chair looking at the old school down there so far away, yet so close, she accepted reluctantly that her days were over. Her dreams of those times so long ago had a bitter sweet taste that would never go away.

She had put much into the achievements of all her pupils over the years, satisfying her greatly at the time but never the less, finding herself unusually tired now of her previously active life. Angela had much time to reflect and took pleasure in doing so, even with the occasional tear in her eye, sitting here as the evening passed into night on her old rocking chair.

The evenings drew in as each year passed and warm summer evenings turned to the autumn of both this place and of her life; the comparison was not lost upon her. Evening light turned from deep red sunsets in the evening warmth to the cloudy chilly evenings as time moved forward. The old school was still there in view to prompt the memories.

§

A warming sip of her favourite Port from her favourite patterned cut glass, not intended for this special drink but functional just the same, was most satisfying. Angela’s insight into all matters was loosening and deliberately so; she was making the effort to relax in a manner that may have had the approval of her Mum and Dad. A make-do and go with life while it lasts attitude, had served them well, and was now something that Angela could readily identify with and slide into so easily.

This evening of her life, and there was still a great deal more of it left she considered, would be comfortable perhaps not so much physically as mentally, but with a relaxation that pleased her.

This would be made the more so by her reverting to the memories of the days of her youth. Her Mum and Dad’s only photo of them all together took pride of place in the old Living Room sat alone on the old sideboard.

More sips, a slurp and then an emptying of the glass led Angela to cast her cares to the wind and refill it again. The drink was having its effect as she sank into the cushions on the old rocking chair yet again. She viewed the old school surrounded by some of the buildings of the new town development. The school sat within its own grounds, now well overgrown, as an oasis within the plethora of new.

Angela felt those years behind her and more so those perhaps that may be left in front of her. She had no idea how long these might be but she certainly felt the passage of time more noticeably here than at any other time in her life.

Her eyes picked out the old school again and her mind drifted once more to those happy innocent days where her learning really took off.

There she was now, stood in the senior school entrance looking at the old lockers and coat pegs. To her front was the corridor to the classrooms and to her right the semi-glazed double doors that gave entry to the school hall. The blue gloss paint was as new as it had been in her day, the brass handles on the doors shining bright and the glass panes beautifully clean and clear.

She glanced through the glass into the hall and there was an exam in progress, just as she remembered them. Pupils sat at individual old desks set in rows and columns with their heads down as they were given the signal by the invigilator to start answering the questions on their exam papers.

In Angela’s thoughts, the teacher in charge was none other than the Miss Stokes she remembered so fondly; what had happened to her, why had she not kept track? A little sadness crept in to Angela’s thoughts.

She decided to enter, knowing that she was in a dream although it seemed full of so much clarity that it might almost be real. Wondering where this might take her however, she decided to enter; it was dream after all, no matter how vivid. The doors which she recalled as always squeaking, no matter the attention of the caretaker, this time made not a sound. Angela expected Miss. Stokes to look in her direction as she entered. Angela hoped that she was still dreaming; this seemed so real. She had no wish to cross Miss. Stokes.

There was one girl near the front that had not yet put pen to paper and seemed a little concerned. Angela walked down the gap between the columns of desks and glanced at the questions on the paper these students were now addressing in this exam. It was an English Language exam and it would seem that the pupils had answered the early questions and were about to proceed into the composition required of them.

Just the one girl further on caught her eye; she wasn’t writing anything but had her head in her hands thinking of whatever. She came up close to her and still Miss Stokes was not reacting to her presence.

The young pupil was stuck on something and Angela seemed to sense what it was. She needed a word that currently escaped her to make a start on her choice of composition. It was something she should know but could not bring to mind. Angela knew exactly what the word was and bent forward to tell the girl.

“Antediluvian,” she whispered into the young lady’s ear.

The pupil clearly had not heard clearly what Angela had said although her head twitched slightly in recognition that something had been said.

Angela leaned a little closer and repeated herself but still the pupil did not start writing although it was clear that she had heard something, again perhaps not clearly enough.

Angela was determined that this pupil was not to be disadvantaged by being unable to bring to her thoughts the word that she needed, even though it was already there awaiting its turn to be used. She stepped forward a little more. Once more the word was spoken and this time it was quite audible, “Antediluvian.”

That was the word, that really was the word, and the young pupil’s mind lit up as though a light bulb had been turned on but who was speaking in her ear. The pupil couldn’t help but look to her left to see who had had the nerve to speak after an exam had started. She turned her head slowly to the left.

“Angela. What are you doing?” barked out Miss Stokes. “You know the rules. Turn your head back to the front and don’t let me catch you doing that again.”

§

Angela placed her glass down in the little table alongside the old rocking chair, still with some of the Port remaining, and relaxed into the cushions.

A gentle smile of satisfaction spread over her face as she allowed herself to slip further into her welcoming dreams but were they dreams or something else?

The half empty glass and the gentle smile were still there when the police found her lifeless body in the rocking chair two days later.

§