The Professor

Writing Club 

Apr 15, 2014

Writing Prompt#1

We were shown a photo of a thin old man in front of a red brick wall with graffiti and given the following.  I think the time frame was around 15 minutes.

Write a story about the photo using this prompt:

“As a scholar of arcane symbols and ancient mythology, it is my professional opinion that…” 

Kale Koolwicky licked his leathery lips as he tasted the words on his tongue.  I could tell he like them.  He looked every bit as ancient as the rocks his bony finger pointed at.  “As a scholar of arcane symbols and ancient mythology, it is my professional opinion that these markings here and here on this wall prove that the demi-gods still walk among us today.”  He announced, pulling a folded photograph from inside his well worn overcoat.  A bit of spittle left his mouth as he spoke, dripping onto the photo.  Like Pavalov’s dogs, he was savouring his discovery. 

I didn’t have the heart to tell the old man that he had it dead wrong.  His mythological markings made by the gods were nothing but graffiti left by some punks who apparently knew a couple of letters of the greek alphabet. 

It had been years since he had been let out of the Alderich House since his accident.  He had his lucid moments when he knew he had been a professor over at Greenwood university teaching on ancient Greece and the like.  Right now I just wanted to get him back inside the car, whatever it took, so I found myself all ears.  Group therapy started in an hour.

“See here, how the lines curve.” Shoving the black and white picture in my face, he pointed to the rocks in the foreground.  “It means that the Kracken’s coming.  The sea’s going to spill in at 4:11 pm.  Old Poisedon’s got it in for us.”  His breath smelt like onions. 

Breathing through my mouth, I nodded in acknowledgement.  “Well, all the more reason to head back.  You’ve a lecture to get to.  Your class awaits.” I gestured towards my lemon yellow jalopy.  “Hop on in the car, I’ll give you a lift.”  I felt cruel leading him on.  He was due for his daily dose.

            “I can’t leave the stones.  See the ones in the picture.  I dropped them twenty years ago in this area.  We’ve got to find them.  I dropped them just over there.”  He began searching around in the dirt a piece of coat hanger that he picked up from among the bits of trash on the ground, claiming the wire was a relic of some sort.

So I found myself playing along, picking up a couple of random rocks from the gravel shoulder of the road, I held them out for him to see.  The sooner the fugue finished, the better off Mr.Koolwicky would be.  As his eyes grew wide with excitement, I noticed how yellow his sclera was.  The drugs weren't doing his liver any favours.  Hopefully I wouldn't need the hypodermic stashed in my glove box.

“Yes, yes, these are 2 of the 7.  Look.”  Rolling them over in his hand and brushing off the dust,  Kale held them proudly out on his palm so I could see.

“May Zeus strike me with lightning if I am lying.”  The old man declared.  “I remember!”

I stood there dumbfounded.  In their smooth surfaces I saw the marks too.  Carved deep into the small stones were the cursed symbols I knew all too well from long ago. 

Perhaps Kale was better to forget. 

As I walked towards the car in silence, I heard the clouds rumbling.