by: BackToBabyHood | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 5, 2024
A wayward prep school teacher draws the attention of a Greek goddess, hellbent on punishing those who dare blaspheme against her temple. Will our beleaguered teacher endure a life of servitude, or join the pantheon of those ancient heroes who achieved redemption?
Alexa peeled off bill
after bill, accounting for each one as she rifled through the crisp stack she
held in her hand. “One hundred, two
hundred, three hundred………four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, a thousand………” After completing her count, she reached for
another stack, repeating the process. A
few minutes later, Alexa had confirmed that it was all there. Fifteen-thousand dollars. Fifteen-thousand dollars and all she
had to do was make sure that Kristina Wellington received an “A+” in her English
Literature class. Alexa smiled, raised
her hand to her mouth and let out a short chuckle. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? As it turned out, it was. Kristina was set to apply to college next
year and Dalian Academy was, after all, a pipeline to the country’s elite
educational institutions. A track of
gilded conveyor belt that carried the wealthy, privileged students who attended
to an Ivy League school. Of course, for
some parents, that wasn’t enough assurance.
There were some, like Kristina’s, who were willing to pay a nice little
“bonus” to teachers of classes their child was struggling in. While Alexa’s salary was nothing to scoff at,
she definitely had a taste for some of the finer things in life. Years of accumulated credit card debt
incurred from extravagant vacations to exotic locales to fuel her various
social media accounts had added up rapidly and parents like the Wellingtons
provided a convenient solution.
Sometimes it came in the form of “private tutoring”. Other times it was in the form of
“encouraging” the school’s board of trustees to recognize “outstanding
dedication to the profession” in the form of a nice cash bonus at the end of
the year. In the Wellington’s case, it
was much simpler: one of their servants would leave an envelope full of cash
each week in Alexa’s mailbox.
Alexa opened her laptop,
plugged the USB drive containing her students’ papers in and opened Kristina’s
submission. As she had done throughout
the semester, she corrected several grammatical errors and re-wrote several
sections, bringing it to a level beyond Kristina’s peers. After glancing it over one more time, she
logged in to the school’s database, selected her class and submitted Kristina’s
grade: “A+”. There were, of course,
students who were far more deserving of such a grade, but those students were
attending Dalian on merit scholarships.
In other words, they came from families who were far from being able to
afford to pay for the special “advantage” Alexa was able to provide. Students like Angelia Foros.
Angelia arrived in
Alexa’s English Literature class at the beginning of the Spring semester. Puzzled that she wasn’t on her list of
students, Alexa kept her after class to find out more about how she ended up in
her classroom. The olive-skinned
brunette explained that she was an orphan who had been “invited” to attend
Dalian, which Alexa took to mean she was on a need-based scholarship. Never one to care much for her students’
personal matters, Alexa dismissed her from her class for the day.
Angelia did possess
traits that made her stand out from her peers, however. She was the only student in the class who
didn’t own a laptop and wrote all of her notes and work by hand. One day, as her students worked on their
individual essays, she walked by Angelia’s desk and found that she hadn’t been
writing her essay at all, but drawing. “Excuse
me, but this isn’t art class” Alexa admonished.
“Why aren’t you working on your essay?”
Angelia softly apologized, gazing up at Alexa with her differently-colored
eyes and taking out a clean sheet of paper on which she began writing. Alexa rolled her eyes, picked up the drawing
from Angelia’s desk, folded it in half and placed it in the organizer she
carried with her. As the semester went
on, confiscation of Angelia’s artwork became an almost daily routine. After lecturing, Alexa had her students work
on their individual assignments. She’d
walk over to Angelia’s desk, remove whatever she had been drawing, placed it in
her organizer and walked back to her desk.
Angelia never asked for her artwork to be given back and Alexa never
raised the issue with her. What did she
care if a student wanted to draw all day instead of paying attention in her
class?
Now, one would assume
that Alexa would be sympathetic to a girl like Angelia. After all, their lives were quite similar on
paper. An orphan herself, Alexa had
never known her birth mother or her father.
She had spent her childhood bouncing in and out of foster homes, none of
which could reign in the rebellious, angry young girl’s passion for making
trouble. Despite her chaotically wayward
lifestyle, she had managed to evade serious repercussions for her actions time
and time again. She was, if nothing else, a survivor. A survivor who also recognized an opportunity
when saw it. The most consequential of
these arose when she met the headmaster of Dalian.
Her boyfriend had told
her that she’d be meeting someone who didn’t fit the profile of their usual
clientele. This guy wasn’t a junkie or a
bum, he was “some fucking nerd”, as her boyfriend had so eloquently put
it. Alexa had walked to towards the car,
fingering the bag of light brown powder in her pocket as her reflection grew
larger in the luxury sedan’s tinted glass.
When the driver’s side window rolled down, a clean-cut, middle-aged man
with glasses greeted her. He saw the
envoy of his latest fix. Alexa saw
something else, though. She saw an
opportunity.
A relationship was formed
and true to her nature Alexa milked it for everything it was worth. As it turned out, it was worth a lot. Alexa earned her GED, then went on to college
and then graduate school. None of these
endeavors cost her a dime. The
headmaster’s many connections throughout academia ensured that she always
received scholarships to the schools she attended.
Upon earning her master’s
degree, Alexa practically waltzed into her job at the Academy. Having achieved her goal, it was now time to
tie up loose ends. Her troubled past was
dead and she intended to keep it that way.
Shortly after Alexa was hired, the headmaster was forced to resign after
it became known that he had a serious drug problem. That day, as he packed his belongings into
boxes, his secretary handed him a manilla envelope that had just been delivered
by courier to his office. He opened the
envelope and removed the photo that was inside.
It was dated and what it depicted was an act that would have been
illegal at the time it was taken. The
message was clear and Alexa was never connected to the disgraced headmaster.
For Alexa, teaching at
Dalian was highly satisfying. The power
she wielded over the futures of the wealthy students she taught felt like a
just reward for being dealt a bad hand in life.
She carried a certain bitterness and resentment towards her pupils, envious
of their luck in the genetic lottery. It
was also why she had no qualms about taking advantage of her position to enrich
herself at the expense of academic integrity.
Having earned her money
for the day, Alexa shut her laptop and headed to the bathroom to shower. She stood in front of the mirror as the
shower warmed up, admiring her figure as she unstrapped her bra. At twenty-five, her body was toned and fit,
her dark hair flowing down her shoulders, partially draping her perky breasts. She slowly removed her panties, running her
fingers down her belly and towards her neatly trimmed bush. She was beautiful and she knew it. After posing in front of the mirror for a few
minutes, she entered the shower and began to wash herself.
Afterwards, she dried
off, put on her silk bathrobe and headed to her bedroom. As she laid in bed reviewing her Instagram account,
she noticed her planner at the edge of the bed.
Overstuffed and threatening to practically explode, Alexa decided to
quickly rummage through it and toss whatever extraneous papers were stuffed
inside. After tossing aside a few of her
notes, she came across one of Angelia’s drawings. For the first time, Alexa was struck by the
intricacy of the young girl’s artwork.
Although more akin to abstract art than anything, the shapes did have a
sort of underlying coherency and logic to them.
The shapes seemed to be connected by nodes, which Angelia seemed to
place emphasis on judging by the darkness of the ink they were composed
of. Alexa set the first drawing aside,
then began to look at the next. Fifteen
minutes later, she had looked at several, each one just as fascinating to her
as the last. As she continued to view
the drawings, Alexa found herself in what felt like a trance. The world seemed to shrink around her,
convalescing around her field of vision which was increasingly narrowing in on Angelia’s
drawing at the expense of everything else around them. Eventually, the drawings were the
world. It wasn’t until she could no
longer see her own hands that Alexa finally snapped out of her trance and
panicked. By then, it was too late. Swallowed by darkness, Alexa lost
consciousness as she uttered her last, silent scream.
The Sanctity of Knowledge
by: BackToBabyHood | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 5, 2024
Stories of Age/Time Transformation