Never Again

Unlike the many, many tales of this sort, this is not a ghost story. No. Reece was very much alive. But looking back on it now, the elements are much the same.

Oscar Barnlow, unlike some other people I could mention, was not particularly a gothic hero. He wasn’t sent to the town of Hereden to chase away a ghost, or to stake a vampire. Nothing like that. He couldn’t say boo to a goose without worrying about offending it. He was, at the time, twenty one years old, and just starting out as a schoolteacher. He was simply not equipped for this sort of thing.

Oscar’s home town of Hereden was, by all accounts, an unbearably boring place to grow up. If you wanted to have fun your only option was to sit near the wheat field and watch the trees grow, and if you wanted to meet a friend your best bet was to stop by their parent’s house and prepare yourself for endless cups of tea and potentially stale biscuits until whoever you wanted to see eventually stopped by. Oscar, having little to no close friends, rarely had this problem. 

The inhabitants of the town, who didn’t often get the opportunity to have a good time, had over the years gained a reputation for being a bit rowdy. From the grating voices of the sellers that crowded the courtyard on market day to the whiny buyers haggling for a better deal, it was quite normal to hear the scuffle before you saw people physically fighting over the price of a fine-tooth comb. The town truly came alive during the monthly fairs that took place on the green, and the next day was always known for being a time of rest. Even the children wouldn’t bother coming into school after a fair. 

It was days like these that a teenage Oscar had stepped in to do cover work, only ever getting shifts when the teachers were too hungover to come in. The students he taught were usually somewhere between seven and sixteen, so his attempts to curb their troublemaking ways ended each day with little to no success. This was a common theme with him but he did always try, which is more than a lot of people can say.

Oscar had left Hereden for the first time at twenty years old, and did his very best to keep finding excuses not to go back. His mother and younger twin sisters not only didn’t miss him, but didn’t seem to notice whether he was there or not at all. Oscar sent money home for them each month but, having had a plate thrown at his head by his screaming mother when he had first suggested leaving, wasn’t keen to actually make the trip back home.

One morning, Oscar received a letter from his good friend, Jeremy Hawthorne. It was a cheerful letter, as always, but it was asking a favour of him. There was a huge shortage of people in the town these days, because most of their young people had left to try their luck in the city, There had never been so few doctors, nurses, and even shopkeepers in Hereden.

Or, as it happened, school teachers.

On his first day back at the school he himself had grown up in, Oscar was ready for whatever was coming. He had only planned on staying in Hereden temporarily, so he had walked into class with no expectation that the children would take to him very much. After all, they were only seven years old. Teenage Oscar the supply teacher was used to having wads of paper thrown at him, or hearing the nickname “Oscar the Scarecrow” being chanted around the classroom like a prayer. He had never really gotten angry at this. They were actually being quite creative, he thought in retrospect. 

This time around, he had been expecting much of the same. But what he found instead when he walked in on that first morning was that the children were quiet.

Very quiet.

Every child was standing by their desks, perfectly straight and still. Their eyes were trained on him as he nervously walked to his desk, putting down his folders. Their uniforms were carefully ironed, and not a single tie was out of place. Realising that this must be some kind of new school rule, Oscar asked them to sit down. They did so.

At first, Oscar wasn’t too concerned about the situation. He started by saying good morning. When no one responded, he tried gentle smiles, and asking them very simple questions. He was met with blank stares. 

As the day went on, he soon realised that no one was saying a word. Not to him, or to each other. This quickly became alarming, and if you knew Oscar you’d know that he was almost always in some state of alarm anyway. He ruffled his hair enough through the day to make him look exactly like the scarecrow he had once been described as, and continued to teach his silent class. During his lunch break, he ran out to the tiny shop near his own house and bought several packs of little cupcakes, enough for every student.  This led to some smiles, and some of them looked at him gratefully, but still no one would say a word.

Having spent a long, draining day of essentially talking to himself, Oscar found himself thinking about his day on the way home. Walking in the fading glow, Oscar kept his eyes down on the mosaic road that led back to Jeremy’s house, where he was staying. He ran through the day again in his head, watching the series of images that showed him the children. Reading silently, looking at their hands, and listening to him speak. Always just listening. 

He wondered if he was doing something wrong. Were his teaching methods too boring? Was he simply not cut out for the job? He thought of his own sisters, who were teenagers now and hadn’t stopped talking as soon as they had learnt how to do it. These children clearly didn’t want to talk, and he couldn’t make them. What else could he do? Why would these children not speak?

Nearing the house, Oscar fumbled in his leather satchel for the key that Jeremy had given him that morning. He heard a deep cough behind him, and dropped the key that he had only just managed to find. Picking it up, he slowly turned around. 

There, standing near the wildflowers that grew in the front garden, stood a tall man with jet black hair. His face was pale, and his features were sharp. Dressed in a suit, and holding a briefcase, he seemed to be an embodiment of everything Oscar feared. 

“Oscar?”

Oscar stared at him for a fraction of a second too long before replying. He wasn’t much of a people person back then, except when he was drunk, which was an occurrence that was happening more frequently these days.

“Yes?”

The man held out a yellow folder, frayed at the edges, and looked at Oscar. It was most definitely his. He remembered the day again and knew that he had been using that folder with his new class, but had he brought it home? At any rate, here it was. The man smiled, his unnaturally bright green eyes gleaming as he spoke again. 

“Did you drop this, earlier?”

Oscar, being Oscar, really couldn’t be sure. His thoughts had been so flooded by the idea of the children despising him for some reason that he couldn’t quite piece together whether he had taken it home or not. Not quite meeting the man’s eyes, he smiled and nodded his thanks, his mouth not quite moving fast enough to say the words out loud. He hurried towards the door and opened it, leaving the man smiling behind him.

Inside the house, Jeremy and his best friend Sam were in the kitchen. Jeremy was in his deep blue guildsmen uniform, red curls bouncing as he moved. Sam had on an apron and a cosy sweater, and the two of them were chatting merrily as they cooked together. With a small flash of electric blue light Sam pointed at the stove and watched as the flame grew, smiling at Jeremy.

Oscar stood in the doorway for a second, watching the flame on the stove. Jeremy and Sam had grown up together, and Sam had inherited the house when he turned eighteen. They had moved in then and been entirely inseparable since. Oscar, at the time, had dearly wanted a friend like that, not knowing that there were several on the way in the years to come. Sam was a good friend as well as being the only magic user that Oscar knew, and it never failed to fascinate him. He was part of the Magician’s Guild, but spent most of his free time working at the tavern with Jeremy.

After dinner, the three of them sat down, and Oscar told them about his encounter. At the description of the man, Jeremy and Sam exchanged uneasy glances. 

“That’s definitely Reece Kilven. He’s one of the most well known lawyers in Hereden.” Sam looked at Jeremy, as if he wanted to say more. Jeremy leaned forward on his elbows and looked at Oscar, running a hand across his heavily tattooed arm.

“He’s a wiry one, that Reece. Good with his words, good at talkin’. He’s never lost a case.” 

This struck Oscar as odd. It was well known that magic users of any kind couldn’t be lawyers, there were laws against that, so he was obviously just very skilled. 

Jeremy sighed a little before continuing to speak. “I heard that they put him in that school for a bit, because of the teacher shortage.” His hazel eyes met Oscar’s greeny-blue ones, holding his gaze. “Be careful around him, won’t you Oscar? I’d advise keepin’ away altogether…”

Oscar’s hair was an unsalvageable mess by the end of the night, since he had continued to ruffle it throughout the whole conversation. Whilst Sam had reassured him that Reece wasn’t trouble unless you were in court against him, Oscar went to sleep with troubled thoughts. 

In his dream, Oscar was sitting in the back of the classroom, looking at his brown leather brogue shoes. The classroom was alive with the sounds of the children chattering. Oscar looked up just in time to see the classroom door open, the very same one he had walked through that day. On seeing Reece, every single child stood up, straight and tall. The silence in the room was deafening. With a small, satisfied nod, Reece sat down. It was a few minutes before he told the children to sit. It was like being in a room full of small, terrified statues. 

The next day, Oscar didn’t do any teaching. He spent all day with the children, being very careful not to scare them in any way. It took almost the whole day, but by the time the last child went home, every one of them was talking again. Still in quiet, hushed tones, but they were talking. The last girl to leave gave Oscar a wide smile, showing off her missing front tooth.

“Thanks Mr Barnlow,” she looked up at him, frowning slightly as she searched for the right way to say it, “for the cupcakes!” Her smile returned as she picked up her school bag, skipping out of the classroom. 

Oscar left the classroom soon after this, fuming as he walked through the quiet streets. Reece had made them like this, during his short time as a teacher. That had to be it. Oscar had never been one for confrontations, but he knew the difference between right and wrong. Teaching a group of seven year olds to stay silent all day was most definitely in the wrong.

For the rest of the week, Oscar had no opportunity to do anything other than work. By the time he was able to take a break, he was too exhausted to do much else. On his last rest day, Oscar went out to the centre of town. It was market day, and he wanted to get something for Jeremy and Sam. As he walked past the bustling market stalls and the sharp smells of freshly cooked baked goods, the air around him seemed to grow a little colder. 

In the city, this wouldn’t have been strange. Sometimes the weather shifted within minutes. But Hereden was rarely ever cold, and for a moment Oscar was genuinely afraid. He hurried away from the stalls and headed towards the town square, just to collect his thoughts for a minute. Leaning against a pillar, Oscar closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his palm. His other hand was in his back pocket. When he felt something brush past him, his eyes fluttered open in alarm and he caught sight of a head of black hair. He watched as the figure strolled into the crowds at the stalls, black leather briefcase in hand.

For a few moments, Oscar didn’t react at all. His mind was still trying to process everything from that day, and how much the children had improved. It was only the thought of their voices that got him moving, darting through the crowd to find Reece Kilven.

The next few minutes went by in a haze for Oscar. His brain was assaulted with the smells and sounds of the market. He tried to block out the musical voices of the Hereden townspeople, the harsher sounds of metal forks clanging against ceramic plates, and the thudding of his own heartbeat. His focus was on the tall man far ahead of him. He was not going to let him get away.

It was on the mosaic road that he got to him. Panting hard, and running a hand through his hair, Oscar stopped by Reece. Reece looked at him with a cold, bemused stare. When he spoke, the condescension practically dripped from his thin lips.

“Can I help you, Oscar?” There it was again, Oscar noted. That casual use of his name. 

“Yes, Reece Kilven. You are going to help me.”

And then, hardly knowing what he was doing, he reached out a fist. Reece blocked him, easily. Releasing Oscar’s still clenched fist, he took a step back. He looked at Oscar, green eyes piercing into him. Oscar felt like he couldn’t move. He could hardly speak. There was something about Reece that made him forget how to resist.

“Oscar”, said Reece, “you need to listen to me now.” Keeping his eyes locked on Oscar’s, he moved the two of them over to the side of the road. It was late evening now, and this road was deserted. Oscar shivered as he remained frozen, watching Reece. 

Reece’s smile was sickly as he nodded at Oscar. “Perfect. Thank you. I’ll remind you, Oscar, that I am not a schoolteacher. I am a lawyer. I do not like children. If I wanted them to be quiet, it’s really not your concern.”

Oscar stared hard at him. He couldn’t move his hands, or his legs. The panic began rising in his throat and tears began forming in his eyes. He had chased Reece, but now he just wanted to be free. The frustration was burning in his gut.

Seeing the tears threatening to spill onto Oscar’s cheeks, Reece took several steps away. He nodded at Oscar, his smile polite and guarded, then walked away. Shaken, Oscar walked home slowly. It was dark, and if you had looked at him then you would have thought he had lost all hope.

But this was Oscar Barnlow. And he had not.

The next day, Reece did not come into work at court. He had been arrested in the early hours of the morning, on several charges. The Unethical and Nonconsensual Use of Magic on Underage Citizens of Hereden, and the Use of Magic by an Uncertified Magic User. This would be followed up, as Jeremy told Oscar at the kitchen table that evening, with an investigation of all his cases in the Court of Law.

As it happened, the vampire was not staked. The ghost wasn’t driven away, and the heroes did not ride off into the sunset. But Oscar had defeated the monster.

And that was enough.

[Image: exploring in Melbourne. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission]