The Freshman

(Fiction in 200 words)

“Hey, freshman. I bet you didn’t know there’s a swimming pool on top of the school.”

An inquisitive look.

A sheepish reply:

“No, there’s not.”

“Yes, there is,” Ethan Tremblay persists. “I’ll prove it to you. Tonight, after dark, when the school’s empty. Climb up the fire escape and see for yourself.”

Another inquisitive look.

“No joke, freshman. I’ll be up there tonight swimmin’ with my boys. This is your one and only invitation.”

Now halfway down the hallway, Ethan Tremblay stops. Turns. Shouts:

“You know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have told you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t have the balls.”

That night, the freshman sneaks out. Rides his bike to school. Only hesitates for a moment before climbing up the fire escape.

At first, he sees it as a faint glow. But soon the light stretches, expands, like the inaugural rays of a sunrise.

Now it’s covering the roof’s surface. A sea of swirling, surging rapids made up of blue, pulsating light.

The freshman steps toward it. Swims through it. Feels thousands of plasmic fingers lifting him off the ground.

At home in his bed, Ethan Tremblay receives a telepathic message from his commander:

Target acquired. Great work.


Looking for a (slightly) longer read? Check out my new book, The Woburn Chronicles.