𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐗𝐈𝐈

"That was a disaster." Principal Weems berated the two students sitting in black chairs in front of him.

The man's dimly lit luxurious study held only three people: the furious Principal, a brooding pale boy in black, sitting arrogantly with his long legs apart with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest- black slate standing on the carpeted floor and his maid, in navy and black, her face pale in fear, the gentle Principal had never raised his voice at her before.

"The mayor is furious!" the man chastised, swinging his arm angrily as he paces back and forth in front of the large, flaming fireplace, the orange light casting sharp shadows on his pale face, accentuating his sculpted features. 

"I've lost count of the angry phone calls, emails, and people in the town, alumni and parents." Saturday's eyes were firmly on the very tall white-blonde man, his face cold and emotionless. The beautiful golden chandelier behind the Principal had all the candles lit, though it produced a very faint, warm light.

He points a long pale finger at Saturday. "They want answers and so do I." he seethed, then rounded on the pale, shivering girl. "Nor I or the mayor appreciated that you practically walked straight into the fire. I highly doubt that you have anything to do with this, and have reinforced this idea with the mayor but neither he or I are pleased with your actions." the girl bowed her head submissively, her golden eyes shone in worry. "I'm very sorry Principal Weems." she apologises softly. Her Principal was not impressed.

"I would lead the inquisition, but I left my thumbscrews and rack at home." the boy replied calmly.

The man put his finger down. "Mr Addams...you're already on thin ice." his deep smooth voice was soft with menace. "Wafer-thin ice." his voice raises sharply. "And you...Miss Kochō," he glares at her with his icy blue eyes. "I'm going to keep a very close eye on you."

The large stone fireplace on the side of the Principal was carved in the muse of a male gorgon, his thick stone snake hair feathered out and filled in the sides as his open mouth is where the flames were shining brightly. He even had stone teeth on the top of the fireplace. There was also two large mirrors on the fireplace's side. One that reflected the lit lamp on the Principal's desk and another lamp, different in design, shining brightly was in front of the other mirror. The large mirrors also captured the two large, luxurious, shining chandeliers on the ceiling.

"I swear on my late scorpion's soul," the boy's voice was still calm but it had turned slightly colder. "my hands are clean." he pressed his case relentlessly.

The boy recalls what had happened in the town square...

A red litre of gasoline was pushed over the stone ledge, its contents pouring rapidly into the water basin. Thing stood triumphantly on top, then quickly scuttles off.

Principal Weem's luscious lips tilted up in annoyance. "I may not have hard evidence, but I see you." he says through gritted teeth. "You're a trouble magnet."

"If trouble means standing up to lies," the boy stands up abruptly, with his broad back impeccably straight, "decades of discrimination," he starts pacing towards his Principal. "centuries of treating outcasts like second-class citizens or worse..." the boy trails off, stoping directly in front of the man.

"What are you talking about?" the white-blonde man demands impatiently. Misaki lifts her petite head just slightly to peek at the heated scene in front of her, still shivering slightly.

"Jericho." the boy says sharply. "Why does this town even have an Outreach Day? Don't you know its real history with outcasts? The actual story of Joseph Crackstone?" the boy doubles down.

The Principal looks away from his student, sighing slightly. "I do." he replies. "To an extent."

"Then why be complicit in its cover up? Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it." the boy says coldly.

There was a pause.

"That's where you and I differ." the white-blonde man says softly. The boy's shining obsidian eyes drilled into clear, crystal blue ones. "Where you see doom, I see opportunity." the man motions a circle with a large pale hand, his face lightened and he had a dreamy look in his eyes.

He smiles softly down at his student. "Maybe this chance to rewrite the wrongs," his pale fingers flutter, "to start a new chapter in the normie-outcast relations." he smiles brightly, flashing his mouth of perfect white teeth to the cold, hard boy.

"Nothing has changed since Crackstone. They still hate us." the boy replies curtly. The white-blonde man's smile slowly disappeared to be replaced by a frown. "Only now they sugarcoat it with platitudes and smiles." the two male's arms were straight by their sides. Saturday smoothly cups his hands together, interlacing his long, pale, black nail-polished fingers together.

"If you're unwilling to fight for the truth-" the boy was cut off by his Principal.

"You don't think I want the truth?" asks the Principal softly, deep voice laced with menace, moving closer in front of the boy, leaning forward slightly, arms crossed firmly on his broad chest. "Of course I do." he hissed lowly. "But the world isn't always black and white. There are shades of grey." he emphasised.

"Maybe for you. But it's either they write our story or we do." cut in Saturday coldly. "You can't have it both ways." his sharp voice rises.

Principal Weems blinked.

"You're exhausting." exclaims the white-blonde man.

"I know." says Saturday with an edge in his deep, smooth voice.

The man tilts his head to the side slightly, brows furrowed at his student, mouth in a scowl. He abruptly gives an exasperated sigh and looks away.

The tall black-haired boy looking up at his even taller Principal had victorious obsidian eyes that shone like the rarest of black diamonds.

The man turned his head back round to the brooding boy. "Goodnight, Mr Addams." he says coldly.

The boy turned to go and his little maid followed him with her head bowed submissively, her long, sleek waist length black braids swaying slightly as she walked.

The Principal looks at his students leave with apprehension, arms crossed on his broad chest.

"But you should know..." his warning voice rings in Saturday's ears as his eyes glance sideways at the noise and he and his maid turn around. "I don't tire easily." the man finishes menacingly. Misaki shivers. Saturday glares at her in disdain.

The boy stares silently back at his Principal, then he and his maid turn around once more and walk out.

☟☟☟

The forest of Jericho seemed even more eery at night, the black sky having no stars, as a faint fire glows inside the fragile walls of the old meeting house.

The old, ginger haired tramp sitting in front of the fire inserts a large battery into his stolen camera with his grubby hands.

The camera clicks as it starts.

The man looks up from his makeshift tent, lined with dirty plastic bags, metal cups, containers and a makeshift bed in the back as he hears distant sniffing and crunching.

He stands up quickly, his eyes darting around and walks a few paces.

"Who the hell's there?" he demands loudly to the blackness.

His screams and a creature's snarling filled the night. The camera's bulb continuously pops as white flashes filled the dark, sounds of the man's flesh rending filling the silence.

☟☟☟