“Today, class, we’re going to talk about a historic event that happened right here in Toppsity. It was 11 years ago. No doubt many of you remember what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, I know Mrs. Orchardsity. Was it — The War?” Abigail always wanted to be the first to guess one of Mrs. Orchardsity’s queries. Most often she was wrong, like this time.
“No Abby,” — for that’s what she wished to be called now. Abigail was too formal, and she told the teacher and other students at the beginning of the semester this in no uncertain terms. “The War was further back in time. 1873-1874.” Catalina Orchardsity knew that it was really 1873-1873 but tacking on that extra year sounded better to the ears. Catalina Orchardsity was not a strickly “go by the rules” teacher. She bent the rules. She bent history a bit too. Because she knew it was malleable in the first place. Her ultimate goal was to eliminate The War altogether. Stretch it out in time until it was too thin to exist. Right not it sat fatly in the middle of 1873. She knew it had to start moving in order to lose weight, lose significance in time. This is what the coven taught her.
Bert Bright who always sat up front, second chair from the left next to his best bud Bud Dimm (2nd cousin to Dimmy Gene who we’ve already met in this here photo-novel), spoke up. “The Witch Trials.”
“Precisely, Bert…”
“I was going to say that,” grumbled Bud Dimm to his side. He always muttered this to one of Bert’s bright answers.
“Now, now, Bud. You know Bert is *much* smarter than you. Take it like the little man you are. Chin up!”
Bud raised his chin up. He liked being reinforced that he was much dumber than Bert; gave him an excuse for his lack of answers. He was satisfied with the brain that life had provided him and wanted no further advance in society than a low paying, menial job. He had been taught well.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 