The October Malice ༄ (gxg)

seven, alex cypress

"They told me that it'll be put off for a few weeks."

Opal ignored the conversation of two older professors that stood at the start of the hallway she was walking down. One was a taller man with sparse grey hair standing up at the back of his neck in icy spikes, and he wore a black leather coat that reflected the pale lights overhead. She imagined him riding a motorbike back in the day, and as she walked past him she stared at her reflection in the sunglasses that he held in his hand even though it was autumn and hadn't been sunny outside in weeks.

The other professor who faced her glanced sideways at her as she walked past the two, his only recently greyed hair mixed with patches of dark reminiscent of his youth. She avoided the eye contact as she made her way down the hall, but she couldn't help but feel like he was staring.

It seemed to be that everyone in Deliverance had been staring at each other as of recent. There was an air of suspicion coating the town, an odd and otherworldly cloud hovering over the space between the mountain ranges where it was nestled. With the police still investigating the murders of Mr. Peterson and Mrs. Browning, everyone was a bit on edge.

The town was full of old skeptics and conservatives who didn't believe anything until they saw it, so the rumors from the few handfuls of backwoods superstitious folks about the two murders having been committed by an avid serial killer was pretty much pushed to the back burner. That would be the last resort that the townsfolk would consider, but the air of the tragedies was still rancid and fresh, leaving everyone feeling a bit turned upside down.

Opal tried not to think too much about it; she was already plagued by her resentment for her environment and the waxing admiration for her professor combatting her once deep love for her girlfriend. Her aching brain didn't have room to fear a murderer running around loose.

It was time for her class with Mrs. Wilkes, but there was no one in the hallway besides the two professors and one kid standing against the wall as if waiting. Realizing that the kid was standing beside the door to the class, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the time. There was still ten minutes until class, and she could hear the voice of the professor who taught a class before Mrs. Wilkes sounding out through the walls. That must have been what the kid was waiting on.

So she leaned against the wall, keeping a few feet between her and the boy who wore a grey hoodie that hid his face. She quickly recognized him as the shady kid who always sat in the back of class quietly and was always the first to leave, so she scooted just one foot farther away from him and sighed impatiently.

His ears must have been severely attuned, she thought to herself, because right as the sigh left her lips, he spoke in a grainy and low voice, "That damn professor is always late."

She almost hadn't even heard him—it was like he had no voice but only a whisper of breath. He sounded tired, and he must have always been tired since she had never seen his face but only the shadow of his hood.

Had he been talking about Mrs. Wilkes being late to arrive or the other professor who always ended his class a few minutes too late? Not caring much for asking, she kept silent and looked in the other direction.

"Mrs. Willy or whatever her name is should get her shit together," he continued, straightening himself against the wall. "I don't have time for this."

Opal's blonde eyebrows creased at his caustic tone—the professor was well-beloved amongst all students, which Opal didn't find surprising. The woman was a walking pinnacle of grace and charm who reserved an especially larger amount of the girl's affections, causing her to feel suddenly obligated to defend her name. Somehow she knew that the woman would do the same.