My First Horror Story

Once upon a time, I was sitting in my mathematics class happily watching an incredible movie of numbers in my imagination. All the numbers seemed to be fighting with 1 while 0 kept goofily offering his love for 1.
1, being a stubborn idiot kept ignoring and refusing 0’s love and help. In my notebook in front of me, I just couldn't resist but tell the idiot to join 0.

Just when I was about to ensure their sweet ending, the impending teacher’s heavy shadow casted clouds over the battlefield of my poor notebook, like an angry storm, she crushed all the numbers in the paper and tore it. And tore it. And tore it.

I felt sad. My battle, I wondered. I sighed heavily in the remembrance of the deceased numbers. And now, well it was my turn it seemed. She casted an angry glare and asked me what 1 divided by 2 was.

Happily and in an attempt to make her proud of me, I started. “Oh well, you know, how when Ammi serves us roti over dinner, she takes one, hands half to me and half…”

Even before I could complete, the teacher looked around impatiently, stopped me abruptly and told me to leave the class. “But...my story...” I squeaked. “Leave!” She screamed.

I walked outside, still unable to comprehend what was wrong. Dismissing the torture of thinking through, I shunned away the thought and happily walked into my geography class.
The teacher welcomed me in. As a matter of luck, I was the first person to be questioned on last afternoon’s lesson. “So, Ali, tell us where Africa is on the map?”.

I gladly took out my little airplane which I carried around everywhere pretending to be a pilot. I took it out, placed it on the atlas at the point of departure- aha, from Karachi. I proudly parked my plane there, before taking it off and guiding it through streams of dotted cities and countries to Africa. Half way through to Africa, the ma’am grew impatient. “Ali, we don’t have the whole class for you! Stop playing games and just spot where Africa is!”

“But ma’am, it is crossing the Middle East right now!”I tried explaining with a sense of pride that I remembered where Middle East was! In fact, I realized how I now know the names of each emirates by heart. Thanks to National Geographic evenings! I pondered.

Sadly, my plane could not descend peacefully, as it was struck with an attack from my teacher. Worse than 9/11 for me I tell you.

Dejected and disappointed, I left the class. Or rather, was kicked out from another lesson. I scratched my head and wandered around, till it was time for my science class.

I really liked my science teacher, I am not sure if the feeling was mutual or not. Little did I know, that my love for her was about to be tested. In the midst of the lesson, driven by my irresistible sense of curiosity, I shot my head up in the air with a question that I thought made perfect sense. “Ma’am, you’re saying we can’t look into the past. But then, looking at the stars at night, aren’t those all dead by the time we look at them..?”

She shook her head, told me that it was a very stupid question. The whole class laughed because they thought I was trying to be extra philosophical.

That was it. That indeed was my first horror story. However, here is the climax of it. The place where the good guy dies in the sad movies; when I submitted this essay to my English teacher,
she gave me a zero in the test. She said, she could not understand what was so horrific about the whole experience.

Nobody does perhaps. But it still remains my first horror story. Until I decided to join the cult by killing the troubling monsters of questions and slashing the curiosity within. Today, I am a successful professional earning a good package, working 9 to 5, for I have become one of all.

I play by silence and live by the rules given to me. Every time I get crazy ideas with obsessions, I have to label them as wrong and shun them away under the carpet - For the fear of experiencing another horror story.