The Teacher

So here is my first Short Story. I haven’t really played around with this before. I had 3 separate piles of little papers. Each pile was represented by either a: Character trait, location or a problem.

The three that I picked at random were: Teacher, Beach and witnessed an unspeakable evil. This is also a very early draft but I feel that I can post it seeing as it is a rather short story (>1000 words) I would also like to add that it does have a very dark tone, so those who are faint of heart may not want to read this. So without further delay here goes

The tranquility surrounded me as I walked across the shore. Sand fell in between my toes every time I stepped. The green ocean made its way from the horizon and splashed against my warm white feet. This had been my second time here, first alone. I had traveled here, to this exact same resort with Kate on our honey moon. In two months it would have been seven years. Seven years of hell. I was happy to find out how much of a mistake I made only after two. Every year from the end of June to the first week of September I was given a break from the chaos that ensued within the school I taught at. My class was thought to be an exceptionally well behaved class. Claire, the spelling bee champion the year before. Matthew Glenn, not to be confused with Matthew Stevens, had a brilliant mind with math. While the later one… He was a handful. The two months that I had away from there were spent in solitude. My books, Jays games and summer blockbusters. I had saved for this trip for quite some time, I should be enjoying it, not thinking of my dull life. I walked up the beach to where reclining chairs had been placed on the sand under red and white umbrellas. Tables as white as the chairs, were placed between each pair of seats. I rested there with book in hand while I basked in the remainder of the sun’s warmth. Within ten minutes of sitting a man had appeared, wearing an outfit that matched the boy who had brought my luggage to my room. A red vest, with a black long sleeve underneath, a black bow-tie and dress pants to match it. He looked younger than me, though most men my age often did. His hair was slicked to the right and sideburns protruded past his earlobes. He sported a soul patch which didn’t really suit him. He asked if I wanted anything to drink or even perhaps an appetizer. I asked for a Rum and Coke. The man couldn’t speak a spit of English but I was sure that he understood what I meant. The server returned with drink in hand. “Cuba Libre” is all that he said. I reached into my pocket for my common phrase book. Cuba Libre a tall glass, 1 ounce of Rum, the rest filled with coke and garnished with a lime. The lime was too much for. I pulled it off the rim of the glass and tossed it to the shoreline. I didn’t come here for the exotic foods or drinks. I just came for the place, to see it once more and that was it. Rum and coke was tradition for me. I pounded it back fast and realized that I was on my own and I had very little distractions. My thoughts drifted off to work and back to Kate as it often did. The server made his appearance several more times, with the same order being placed. After two I had lost focus of my book and watched as the same server came out and lit the torches behind me along the beach. Once again he came and asked if he could take my cup and if I needed anything. I simply said “Cuba Libre”. He returned twice more and it was pitch black now. I stared hard at his name tag. The light cast by the torches was barely enough to aid in the finding of what it said. If I made a bet on what it said I was sure to lose. I called him Alejandro but it also could have been Alberto. “Alejandro, can I call you Alejandro?” The man seemed out of place as I asked this and gave me an odd look. “Alejandro, I’ve worked with kids for sixteen years. You understand me? Anyways I had been married for close to two years. Around this time my wife decided that she wanted to have a kid without my knowledge. Crazy huh? So one morning she tells me she’s pregnant. I was shocked. What do you say to that? I had nicked myself pretty bad as a result. What kind of an idiot says that while you’re shaving? I looked in the mirror for quite some time.” At this time the server turned to leave but I reached out for his wrist in an attempt to restrain him. “I’m staring straight into the cut I had made on my cheek. The blood rolled down the freshly shaved section of my cheek to my jaw line. At this point she’s furious, I can only guess that she expects me to be happy about this. I can tell that she’s trying to get my attention because of all the movement in the reflection.” The server uttered a few words of which I ignored and gripped his wrist harder. “She shakes me two, maybe even three times but before she can get the fourth one in I turn. I cup both my hands behind her head and with all the strength I could muster, I bring her head down on the white ceramic sink. Once her head hit the sink I released her. Placing my hands on the edge of what was left of the sink. I stood staring in the mirror at the cut she had caused. The reminder of what had transpired convulsed by my feet.  It continued for maybe three minutes, I couldn’t tell you. But what troubles me the most Alejandro. Was my kid going to be a Matthew Glenn or a Stevens?”

Thank you for the read if you passed by this. I hope to hear criticism as I am open to it. And if you’re also an aspiring author feel free to drop me a message or a comment and I would love to bounce ideas of each other or aid in the critiquing of work.

Thanks for the read!