Class of Golem

September 22, 2017 by Patrick Starks


“Let there be light,” professor Golem would say. The whole classroom was still, no one said a word, only gazed towards the front of the room . “I said, let there be light,” the professor would repeat. And still no reaction from the class was given—there was no light, one would say behind me. A pile of  research would then clutter the classroom ceiling, and by the looks of it, lord only knew what this person was feeling.

The anonymous person would be immediately revealed, it was Elena, my best friend—the so called hotty all the other boys felt I was within the friend zone, but confidence would not leave my side, as I had faith that we would one day be more.

Elena’s written work had now been disposed of, and she would then recite the same as the professor. “There! You see class, she’s got the spirit,” Professor Golem said. Eventually, others would do the same, following in her lead, however, I remained seated—I wasn’t fond of conformity, that was what I told myself.

“Do you see it, can you feel the light growing within us all,” Professor Golem said.  And as he said that, he would point towards the direction of me, as it was obvious I was the only one that would rebel against his words of motivation, or whatever one would call it. Again, conformity wasn’t my thing, so I stayed seated, as if someone had pants me, marinated my ass with super glue and grilled me to the seat I sat in—minus the smell of what it could’ve been.

The professor, along with the class would continue to meddle, more so harass me about the joining of what I would depict as a cult, and so I would give them all a piece of my mind, especially the professor, he was the creator and the reason behind all the tension I’d be facing.

I told them as I felt any would do, that they were crazy, that all they were doing was a joke, and irrelevant to the life we faced on a daily. I turned to Elena, pleading for her to stop what she was doing, but comes to find out she wasn’t fond of conformity either, at least not with my orders—and so it appeared we were all at a stalemate.

The bell would then ring, and everyone one would rush out, it been a long day, and all most of us could think about was going home to play a video game, more so, getting something to eat—tortinos pizza pockets, a lunchable’s pizza, something, anything, a rat even—but maybe that was just my own hunger speaking at the time.  I’d pack my bag and attempt to follow in the heard of what I called sheep, but the professor was bound to leave a word with me, something that would change my mind of the class session that had occurred.

“Destined, why is it every day you rebel? Every class we have, you decline participation? Is everything okay at home?” the professor asked.  He clearly pissed me off with that last question, I wasn’t some abused kid with no father in the picture, and even if I was, I doubt that that would have had any influence on the reasoning behind my rebellion—I truly never gave a dam, it was a history class after all—I only cared about the present, not the past.

I told the professor I rebelled because I was tired of false promises of the world. I told him that the whole light-thing was a made-up myth, and another false promise to kids who didn’t believe in themselves—no different from Santa Claus, I told him. He laughed at first, but then paused.

“Oh, now I see,” the professor replied. I looked around and asked him, see what? and he chuckled again. “Good one, good one, but seriously, I see now,” the professor said, and I sat on my once super glued marinated ass, waiting for more explanation.

“You have been promised your whole life things that you wanted, or things you were told you would achieve, or even deserved, but none ever fell through, did they?” the professor asked. I was silenced, yet frustrated, wanted to say something, but couldn’t come up with a mature enough response, I honestly wanted to tell him to go fuck himself with the fourteen-inch wooden ruler he would hold in his hand, but that I felt would have been his boiling point, so I saved it for the flawless victory I’d inflict on him later.

“Destined, do you not see your own name has meaning. I’m sure your parents gave you that name because they felt the day you were born, that you were destined for remarkable things,” the professor said. He pulled out a compass from his left pocket, and slapped it onto the desk in front of me. He’d ask me what it meant, what it meant to me—it was obviously just for determining one’s location, to remember where one is, to help you see where you are in the world.

“Correct, it is to help you see where you are in the world, but where are you Destined?” the professor would ask, staring through his coke bottled glasses, as if they were magnifying in some way. Did he just read my mind, I would ask myself, but ignored, responding to his question.

I told him I’m in Vancouver, Canada—where else would be. “Correct, but where are you Destined, where do you stand in the world, where do you stand in Canada?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment, and the only word that could come out was alone. Everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever trusted—were gone, leaving me to fight on my own.

“You can never be alone Destined, because we all have traveled that road once. No one is ever alone, because we all feel and experience the same thing—if you are alone, it was only because you chose to be, because you assumed that you are the only one has experienced such pain, and that no one understands. Please, let me show you one more thing,” the professor said. He opened the closet of the classroom and went inside. I didn’t see him for a while, not until I’d see his frail and bushy hand poke out, suggesting that I come in.

“Come on in already, don’t be ridiculous, I’m not that kind of man,” the professor said. But the lollipops within the closet would tell me otherwise—my assumption was that he might be a pedophile, but it was obvious, it had now come to my attention he could read my mind, somehow.

I’d eventually build up enough courage to enter the closet, and as the door closed from behind me, everything changed. “This is the light Destined, this is what has been hidden from you your entire life, the one thing you were promised,” the professor said.

We now were in what appeared to be a forest, but it wasn’t of the typical—I swear I even saw a Liger, as much as that’s always joked about—I was experiencing a new world. “This Destined, is Golem,” he said. I was confused, I thought he was talking about himself, but comes to find out, that wasn’t even his real name, and yet, was the name of this wonderland I’d embark.

From here I found worth of my name, from here I found that everyone, that everything had experienced the same. From here I found that there was nothing to change, for as much as I felt I was, I was never caged—I was a lion, never to be tamed. And as I stroked my mane, I no longer had any shame—the professor would show me that life was truly magical, never a game. And on that day, I saw a light within words, that my life was a poem—I saw that I could be more, or be never known.

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