The Shadow's Prophecy

Chapter 3: A Dangerous Game

Michael dazedly weaved through the dissipating crowd of students, still daydreaming about the ghost-like creature that he saw just moments before the abnormal conversation with his perturbing teacher. As if trapped within a far-off existence, Michael's vision blurred as he began carelessly drifting down the hallway.

Without warning, Michael mistakenly stumbled directly into the substantial build of Blaze Thompson who was speaking with his bullish schoolmates.

In that very moment, the trance that Michael was once ensnared in came to an abrupt end, causing all of the drowsiness to wash away from his slumped form.

"Oof," Michael exclaimed, getting a strong whiff of Blaze's blue leather jacket in the process.

Blaze whirled around with an irked glance, then gave an appalling smirk at the sight of Michael, "Well lookie 'ere, the class klutz who can't even watch where he's going." He snapped, after laying his scornful, beady eyes upon Michael: his next victim.

In Michael's opinion, Blaze was definitely the meanest wanker at Hollow Creek High, always finding some way to intimidate or piss him off.

Michael retorted defensively, "Sod off, Blaze, I don't have time for this."

Uninterested in starting a brawl, Michael attempted to swiftly pass Blaze, brushing him off entirely.

In response, Blaze briskly stepped in front of him. Seething at his reply, "Then make time, Sanders. For someone of your disposition, you've got quite the attitude. You ought to be taught a lesson for insolence."

Michael guessed that Blaze Thompson had a reputation to uphold as the biggest dickhead in school, and although he wasn't wrong, Blaze certainly appeared to be enjoying himself.

While squinting intently, "I was just going to say the same thing about yourself." Replied Michael, in a resolute manner, showing his severe disapproval by huffing in front of the towering tyrant.

Blaze began moving in closer with a malicious stare. "Well, it's a real pity that that blundering idiot of a teacher cannot save your sorry ass this time."

Blaze's friends overlooked the heated conversation with great intrigue and smug glances while chuckling under their breath.

"Give it to 'im Blaze!" Shouted Darrel, prior to loudly snorting and slapping the backs of his fellow cronies.

With notable audacity, "And what if your father heard about this? I'd be more than willing to personally speak to him regarding your insolence."

Speaking in a hostile and hushed tone, "You wouldn't dare."

Michael reassured, "Oh, I would."

While uncomfortably leaning over Michael in a domineering manner and swiftly pressing his form against the lockers, "You've crossed the line, and you'll pay for that, Sanders, mark my words." Blaze balefully spat.

They glared at each other for a prolonged period of time. Michael envisioned Blaze boiling with detestation, his bullshit meter ticking in the red zone.

The disapproving words of Blaze Thompson's father struck fear within some part of Blaze, and Micheal knew exactly what to say in order to silence the bully's foul talk and vile threats.

Although Mr. Sullivan seemed quite dismissive towards Blaze's exceptionally rude commentary and harassment earlier, he's always had his reasons.

Understandably, Blaze Thompson's sense of entitlement and arrogant behavior stemmed from his father's puissant position as mayor of Hollow Creek, and Mr. Sullivan, who wasn't that unfamiliar with Blaze's father, preferred not to deal with such matters since there was a possibility that he could lose his job as a teacher.

Michael averted his gaze after mumbling under his breath, "So glad I don't give a damn." And pushing away the internally fuming bully standing before.

Michael continued swiftly walking down the dull hallway that led towards a small seven-step stairwell. A dirty, gum-covered silver railing which no one would dare touch, was cemented directly in the middle of the disgusting stairwell.

After pressing his forearm against the side of one of the metal doors, which effortlessly swung open, Michael shoved his chilled hands into his pockets and headed across the old, empty basketball court.

Before stepping outside the gray brick school building, Micheal more than anticipated the uncomfortably nippy temperatures and blustering winds that caused the massive trees to reluctantly sway, creaking with uneasiness.

A small shiver ran down Michael's spine which provoked him to swiftly throw the crimson-colored hood of his jumper over his messy brown hair.

After passing underneath the rusted orange basketball hoop on the opposite side of the parking lot, Michael paused and gazed with unbending fascination and intrigue towards Gloomywood Forest. Slowly, he began unintentionally diverging towards the forest's edge.

An unusually cold gust of wind swept through the narrow streets, causing Michael to take one last look at the dreary, miserable town that stood in front of him.

---

There was a pawn shop that housed all sorts of antiques and junk from when the town was first founded, and next to that was a small barber's shop that rarely had any customers.

A quaint bakery, that always smelled of freshly baked rolls and biscuits when you walked by was located in the center of town, directly across from the sheriff's station, bank, and post office.

There was a large statue of a well-dressed man, the founder, that was displayed in the middle of town. There were other creepy-looking statues that were located around Hollow Creek, but frankly, nobody paid much attention to them. Besides, they were more of an annoyance and inconvenience to the locals anyway since they'd take up much-needed space: an entire park bench, an extra planting bed for vegetables, or even a parking space.

A popular local diner, bar, and a rarely used library were located on the opposite side of town, as were multiple clothing shops.

Near the edge of Oaknoll Forest, was a grocery store, a small hospital, and a single hardware shop run by lonesome Joe who was, in fact, lonesome.

---

As large raindrops began effortlessly falling from the blackening sky, Michael could see many students racing across the parking lot, desperately seeking shelter from the impending rainstorm.

Hollow Creek was known for its dreary and sometimes terrible weather, and by the looks of the suppressive gloom above, it was certainly appearing that way.

Something was coming, something big, and whatever it was, Michael was going to find out.