Short Stories (bxb)

The Art of Feeling Small Pt. 1: Portland Gray

I darted forward on unsteady ground, racing against the bricks that fell beneath my feet. Bounding ahead, I chanced a long leap, crossing the pit that opened up in the floor and just barely making it to the other side as a pool of flame licked at my ankles.

     The switch was in sight. I sprinted toward it, slamming it down and allowing my partner to jump ahead. He threw his weight against a boulder that blocked his path and, with a great effort, heaved it out of his way and onto the gleaming button, allowing me entrance. Together, we ran forward, collecting gems as we passed, and for a glorious moment, it seemed like we were in the clear. The exit was in sight, with only a few more obstacles to go. I ran, unfazed, through the pool of water, then jumped over the puddle of acid, and I was there, in front of the door, waiting.

     Eyes narrowed in concentration, I focused on the bright red form of my partner, willing him to join me. He jumped over the water without so much as scraping his toes across the surface, but he overshot, sending himself plummeting straight into the poison green pool. He disintegrated immediately. Only a small burst of steam evaporating from the surface showed that he'd been there at all.

    I cursed under my breath as the words GAME OVER took over my screen. Fucking Fireboy. I had always been better with WASD than the arrow keys.

     Somewhere in the background, Professor Burke and his receding hairline pointed to a diagram and lectured in his clear, hollow voice about some phenomenon I couldn't name. It was something about aerodynamics  -- that was the name of the course, after all -- but that was about as much as I could tell.

    It was probably something was important. Practically everything you learned in a class like Aerodynamics was important.

     For a brief moment, I tuned into what Burke was saying. It might've been interesting; he was an engaging, enthusiastic teacher. But when I listened, all I heard was a droning monotone, and my eyes drifted back to the screen as if of their own accord. I would surely regret not paying attention when I had to pour through the textbook to catch up, but that was a problem for later.

     I took a quick glance around the classroom to make sure everyone still had their laptops open, filling out the professor's digital notes as he spoke, then looked at Burke himself to see him still facing the board, paying me no mind. Tuning him out once more, I clicked Retry.

     I was moments away from beating the tricky level of Fireboy And Watergirl in the Forest Temple when a knock sounded at the door of the classroom, and in walked a guy wearing sunglasses. 

    Several heads perked up, watching curiously from the corners of their eyes as a young man with a backpack over his shoulder stepped into the class. Nobody seemed to know who he was except Professor Burke, who smiled kindly in greeting. "You can go ahead and take the seat on the far-right of the third row, Ezra."

     "Thanks, sir."

     Apparently, that was all the attention to be given to Ezra. Students turned their heads away, refocusing on their computer screens and the projected diagram up front. Professor Burke clasped his hands together to reign in the last few pairs of straggling eyes. He waited another moment before turning to face the screen, resuming his lecture and giving us a perfect view of his bald-spot.

     While the other students scrolled through their powerpoints, I took a brief recess from my game, following the visitor's path as he made his way to the third row, quiet enough to disappear. Everybody else had  forgotten him, but there was something that turned my head his way. There was at least an 87% chance that I was literally just at peak boredom, so desperate for something interesting that I was clinging to the first break of routine, but I couldn't help but watch him as he walked, trailing his fingers along the edge of each desk he passed, trying to figure out why he seemed so unusual.