via Daily Prompt
“I just went around it twice, but without twisting the strip, I just went around twice, but didn’t twist the strip, look, see.”
The class nods homogeneously. Mr. Tokida pauses, the ring of paper held up in his left hand, because he can hear a scuffling in the corridor. His pupils look at the door, he looks at the door. What’s this? thinks Tokida.
Grim-faced, the Head comes in, flanked by two police officers.
There is a intake of breath, shared across the room, everyone breathing each other’s air. With instinctual, involuntary action, Tokida raises his hand to hush the room. He puts the ring of paper down on the desk.
“How can I help you, Mrs. Burrow?” asks Tokida of the head, half suspecting the reason for the visit to be truancy, or vandalism, or smoking just off-site, on the field where the students play football and lay in the sun.
“I think you should step outside, for a moment, with me…Mr. Tokida.”
Blushing, Mr. Tokida says, of course, of course, and nods to his students, who watch, silently, whilst some begin to whisper, and Mr. Tokida and the Head and the two police officers all leave the room.
After a moment there is a scream in the corridor, a guttural scream, a scream of Mr. Tokida, not the Head or the police officers, and all the students turn to look at each other, and ask, silently, with their eyes, too shamed to talk, what was that scream? Why would Mr. Tokida scream like that?
The teacher comes back into the room with a red face, stained with tears, his mouth is contorted. All his teeth grinding together. He rifles through his desk, flinging papers into the air, and the pupils watch from their desks, silently, and the police officers and the Head watch from the door. Mrs. Burrows has her hand over her mouth. The officers look awkward, like they’ve seen it before, but can’t admit they have, because it would detract from the moment.
Mr. Tokida stops ripping through his desk drawer. He leans forwards and puts his head on the desk. Then, speaking into the wood, he says: “Class is dismissed.”
One by one the class files out, and they stare at Mr. Tokida, who still has his head on the desk, face down, his arms limp by his side. They pass the Head and the officers in the corridor and they catch each other’s eyes but no one says a word. Mrs. Burrows still has her hand over her mouth. Her eyes are watering. In her eyes the students see the word death.
One by one the class files out of the door at the end of the corridor, out into the sun.
Whoa, very good hook. Poor Mr. Takida. I already care for him, with his now irrelevant Möbius strip.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much! These short stories are a great way to practice my hooks for longer pieces. One day I’ll take all of these short stories and turn them into full-blown writings, I hope.
I’m glad you enjoyed it. I felt bad for Mr. Tokida as I was writing it, because it takes some arrogance to assume the pain he must be feeling, and thus guilt comes along, and I think, how dare I put Mr. Tokida through this.
Maybe I’m thinking about it too much.
Thanks for the comment 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh..kay!! Uhm, abrupt ending, kind of hanging there :O
#Bravo
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, I might do an extension of this piece, I enjoyed writing it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Poor Mr. Tokida. I think it says world’s about your writing that you feel the character so much as to feel for him as you’re creating him. I want to know more, do extend it at some point.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It seems like lots of people want an extension so I’ll oblige 🙂
Getting inside the head of a character is something that I’m getting more avidly involved in with each story. Each story is another step towards becoming actually mad, with all these voices in my head. It’s the best way to write, I think. At least, it works for me.
Thanks for your comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
As long as you write out the voices in your head you should be able to avoid the asylum. Excited to read more of Mr. Tokida and anyone else talking to you. ; )
LikeLiked by 1 person
hahahahaha “another step towards becoming actually mad, with all these voices in my head”
I hear you well!! It is a great way to think!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Here’s to like minds 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Stories in Short #14 (Marathon of forgetting) | Seal Matches
Pingback: Overworked, or hardly working? Not working at all; a robot stole my job | Seal Matches
Pingback: Mr. Tokida’s Lament: extended | Seal Matches
Pingback: Mr Tokida’s Lament: extended, part two | Seal Matches
Pingback: Oversight: from a drone, to your news-feed, to your comfy chair | Seal Matches
Pingback: Stories in Short #16 (When I was Ten) | Seal Matches
Pingback: Mr Tokida’s Lament: extended, part 3 | Seal Matches
Pingback: Stories in Short #17 (Don’t filter yourself, not over tea and peaches.) | Seal Matches
Pingback: Stories in Short #18 (The rustling of the corn) | Seal Matches
Pingback: Budapest | Seal Matches
Pingback: Stories in Short #23 (Slaughter the jiggling jigglers, in the basement, down the narrow steps) | Seal Matches
Pingback: Stories in Short #30: Snapshots ‘2 | Seal Matches