In his second period class. Scot was spinning his pen between his fingers while watching Professor Krilman lecture another student about how important the Nortenburg battle was and its significance in history. Of course, he wasn't paying attention at all. Scot was daydreaming about how amazing it would be if the classical game Skyrom just paid more attention to the magic of necromancer. How he would lead a horde of skeletal minions towards Whitrun and absolutely destroy all of the guards, some of which had sent him to jail due to petty thievery.

"Can you believe it!" He thought, "I had clearly remembered to put a basket over the guards head! But he still got me!"

He would strip those bastards nude and throw all their bodies right outside the inn for all the peasants to gawk at. Grinning menacingly, he excitedly twirled his pen faster and faster until it flew out of his hand and hit Professor Krilman's nose.

Plok*

The Professor twirled his head and his eyes locked on to the area surrounding Scot. At first he stared blankly, unable to comprehend what bullshitery caused this incident to occur. However, he then began giggling like a naughty child. Krilman had already found his troublemaker.

"Get out of my class this instant Mr. Brown"

"But I didn't mean to! It was just an accident! I was ju-"

"OUT!"

The surrounding students burst out into laughter and sneered at how futile Scot's efforts to explain were.

Jason, one of the students snickered, "He should be a juggler for a circus since he likes spinning things in his fingers so much!"  

Scot walked out of the classroom with his head down, his chubby cheeks burning with shame. This was why he hated history, all of his friends didn't have the same period and Professor Krilman's personality differed too much from his own. While he did respect the Professor for his dedication to teaching history, he always felt that history was completely useless for any scenario except showing off his knowledge. 

Standing in the hallway, he wanted to cry but fought it back with the thought that he would just get laughed at more if he did. Scot's self shaming was interrupted by a blue screen but he waved it away thinking it was a mere illusion from his emotional state.

He never was a person with high willpower. In fact, Scot believed that he was a coward who only reacted with adrenaline. When he was an elementary schooler, 8 or 9 years old, he partook in a game of tag. Despite his weak, scrawny body being unable to keep up with the other children, he was amazing at it. He climbed up trees, playgrounds, even the neighbor’s house in order to avoid the tagger. His prowess left him conceited, taunting any and every opponent to catch him while sitting on areas unreachable to the average child.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end. While throwing acorns he found off of the sidewalk at Nick, one of his good friends to this day, he stood up and got over excited when Nick cowered to find cover. He lost his balance and lost consciousness.

“Scot wake up!” “Is he okay?” “Help! Help! Someone please!”

When he came to, he was lying on a bed gasping for air while feeling a horrendous pain from his legs and arm. He couldn’t move, his lips were parched and his throat was dry. He cracked open his eyes and found himself in a white room typically found in a hospital. He heard his mother’s voice and tried to listen in.

“Ms. Brown, rest assured, your child is alright. He has only suffered a fracture in the leg and is not in any life threatening situation.”

“Thank God doctor. Thank God. Is there any other problem with him?”

The doctor replied while chuckling, “Well, I can’t understand how a child could fall from a three story roof and come out with merely a bone fracture. Well, unless he slowed his fall with the building that is.”

What confused Scot the most was that he didn’t use the building to slow his fall. Instead, all he did was black out.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Scot looked towards the hallway clock in hopes of the period almost ending. It hasn't even been five minutes yet! He sighed.

This school was an old one, built in the 1800’s but still in use. It was expanded to fit the growing number of students but it still felt crowded. Not that the school was small, in fact it was huge, students would have to memorize the paths to each class. Lost freshmen were a common sight due to the large building but it wasn’t like those in control cared. The only thing they implemented that actually helped the students were the cheap clocks sparsely placed throughout the school.

Something in his peripheral vision drew his attention, a small green impish child stood at the end of the hallway looking at him with curiosity and also. . . hatred, it was holding onto a dagger which looked almost looked like a sword for itself. Such a comical combination almost made him laugh if not for the fact that this being was too ugly and green to be human.

Suddenly, a scream startled him and broke him out of his trance. He ran, ran for his life, from that horrendous creature. Disregarding his belongings which were still sitting in the classroom, he sped down the hallway and down the stairs until he met another one of those things.

This time, the thing was looking away from himself, it was on top of another student who had her neck broken at a 180 degree angle, her face covered in messy black hair. He began walking back while facing the monster, only to trip on another step. The monster turned back, startled not by Scot’s recent undoing but by a scream, his scream.

Scot screamed like the day he was born, as if he was experiencing every single one of his fears at once.

Fuck.