The Adventures of David Argyll (standard:adventure, 1376 words)
Author: James C. Bernthal	Added: Feb 04 2006	Views/Reads: 3353/2145	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Following the exploits of an uncharismatic intellectual teenager. Part one, in which David Argyll bears witness to murder

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


What does The Matrix have to do with maths?  A good question, and one to
which no answer as of yet has been devised. 

Anyway, sometimes one has to lose oneself in the vulgarity of it all. 
So Keanu Reaves was debating whether or not to jump over London (any 
suspense was now dead, what with this being the eightieth time the film 
had been inflicted upon us).  Flicker, crash, sizzle.  Abrupt darkness. 


“Crikey, folks, there's been a power cut!” 

Nothing better than a perceptive teacher.  Nothing was distinguishable
through the clinging and engulfing black.  I didn't like it very much.  
The problem was that the college had recently brought in new extra 
luxury velvet curtains everywhere, so no light was being admitted.  It 
seemed a very odd initiative, and an entirely pointless use of college 
funds.  Why the hell was the college twittering about the necessity to 
up the canteen prices when new automatic curtains could be instigated 
at the headmaster's will? 

“Any of you got a mobile phone, chums?  They make a lot of light, don‘t
they?” 

At your decree, of course, Mark. 

There was general rummaging and confused noises as people groped in the
dark for their bags.  Then that annoying chime thing - da da da da 
daaaaa.  Impressive, or I'm too cynical. 

More rummaging noises.  More confused movement.  One loud, shrill
scream.   Instant silence. 

The lights came back on with an uncertain flicker.  As it happened, we
had all made our way to the source of the scream, the shuddering, un 
characteristically animate, dying girl who normally sat behind me.  
Jodie LaYorrig had a half-kilogram knife of Sheffield silver firmly 
implanted in her back. 

The only person in the room who seemed perfectly composed was the
teacher.  His face did not register any emotion, as he pulled the knife 
briskly out of Jodie's back.  He twitched slightly when the poor girl's 
blood splattered without grace over him. 

“That was a half arsed job, wasn't it, chums?  Best to finish it off, I
say.” 

Repeatedly, displaying no remorse, he plunged the knife again and again
into the now motionless female.  No one moved to stop him.  No one 
moved at all, except for the nervous shivering.  And it wasn't cold. 

As if on cue, the door to the classroom was swung open and in came the
woman who taught maths next door. 

“Anything wrong, Mark?  I heard screams. There's been a blackout, we
were all affected, but I...”  She froze too.  Only her eyes moved; they 
dropped to the butchered corpse, and to the intellectually superior 
hand that was removing the knife for further use. 

“Ah, lesbian.  It's you I wanted to see really.” 

Cartwright had grabbed the young lady and was neatly severing her
throat.  Her graceless gurgles were indicative of her masculine sexual 
proclivities. 

He was twittering inanely.  “I didn't want to kill  her, but Lance did. 
So I had to.  You see that, don't you, chums?” 

I was the only one who dared to move.  I moved very quickly towards and
then out of the door and ran, faster than I'd ever cared to run when 
avoiding P.E. lessons at school, in the direction of the reception.  It 
just had to be on the other side of this excessive building. 

************* 

By the time I'd got the attention of the dozy secretary, convinced her
that I was telling the truth (I never attempt humour that isn't wry and 
satirical) and persuaded her to leave her photograph, which as far as I 
could discern was of two men all over each other, about ten minutes had 
passed. 

We swiftly returned to the classroom.  The head of mathematics was
lying, faced up, amongst six dead bodies; one fellow teacher and five 
students.  Somehow, they had all managed to kill each other. 

I don't know what happened next, but my most accurate reconstruction
would be that the tow of us - the secretary and myself - were clobbered 
heavily.  Just above the medulla oblongata. 

I should have gone to a specialist science college. 

TO BE OCNTINUED...


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