Paper 2

Sam Leidholt

Literature

C. Villa

April 22, 2013

Historical Fiction

            For years, students have found ways to complain about learning styles. Instead of ignoring the complaints, is there an easier method that teachers have yet to consider? As human beings continue to evolve, so do the ways in which we learn. Our grandparents would consider reading a book or going to a library the best way to learn. Our generation would beg to differ. We learn much more quickly by seeing and doing rather than reading and memorizing. Although not an end all be all, historical fiction films can provide a more effective learning style than history books.

            Many pros and cons exist to the use of historical films as way to teach. Unfortunately, many students take the entire educational process for granted. Such students who refuse to learn in general will usually remain the loudest complainers. Effective teachers will be able to reach as many students as possible. This change in learning style has the potential to remove the negative aura surrounding reading and attempting to cram in as many pages as quickly as possible just to “get your homework done.”

            While cramming may work for some students, another potential negative effect is that of livelihood of the film. Not every student will have the same interest and take the same liking to different types of films, therefore, creating a gap between how many students actually pay attention and those that take advantage of the dark classroom for a quick nap. Students today are also known for the amount of sleep we do not get at night. This lack of sufficient energy combined with a couple hour movie “lecture” may indeed provoke students to fall asleep in class much more frequently.

On the other hand, not all sleep-deprived students will see this as a time for catching up on some sleep. Those students who genuinely do struggle with learning may be very positively affected by the change. The introduction of filmography to classrooms could increase knowledge retention. For example, in our Literature class, we watched a very poor quality documentary surrounding the murder of Lorenzo de Medici. The quality of the film, however, contributed to the amount we remembered. The poor acting and rather comical drama in the film contributed to our take away and memory of the actual event. By remembering the way we were made to feel in the film contrasted with the way we expected to feel after initially learning about the murder, we are able to recall more quickly and accurately the facts of Lorenzo’s death.

Not only can the nonfictional events of history be portrayed in films, but Historical fiction can also contribute to the knowledge of a certain place, event, or group of people. The movie Hannibal is a perfect example of this. The fictitious acts of Dr. Hannibal Lecter that take place in the nonfictional place of Florence with the nonfictional people of the Italians and Italian police force provide an interesting method in teaching about the city. As American students studying abroad, we were initially overwhelmed with the beauty and seemingly perfect atmosphere of Florence. While that side of Florence does exist, we have learned and had many discussions over its opposite: the dark side of Florence. The historically fictitious film Hannibal is a brilliant display of the city of Florence, the actions of Florentines in the time the film was created, Italians’ interactions with Americans, and many other aspects of Florentine life that cannot be taught in a textbook.

It doesn’t take a student long to begin counting down the number of pages left in a chapter of reading and calculating just how quickly that reading can get done. The use of Historical Fiction filmography in the classroom opens up a brand new slate of methodical teaching styles. Students very quickly become bored with textbook reading, especially as it is how we’ve learned all our lives. Our generation looks for new ways to do something and new ways to accomplish tedious tasks. Introducing a new, more exciting way to learn (i.e. watching and discussion of historical fiction films) can produce an excitement about learning that many students haven’t had for years. Discussions about the nonfictional and fictional elements of the films, as well as understanding of what within the interactions and storyline are real and made up can help to create and maintain a solid understanding of the historical period being studied. In order to keep up with the advances in technology and evolution of our generations, it only makes sense that teaching styles do the same. 

Short Story

Sam Leidholt

Lit – Short Story

To Go or Not to Go

                “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but it did. And I’m done. I can’t even look at you anymore without getting pissed off about the whole thing.” The words ripped Kasey’s heart apart as he read them. The girl he was ready to propose to was giving up on their relationship because he’d made a stupid mistake. One that he never thought would alter his life as much as it did. And now, he felt like he was having an out of mind experience as he sat on his unmade bed, staring at his iPhone in his suddenly dark bedroom as rain drops pelted the window pane. He laid down to try to get a grip on everything that had happened. The long nights on fighting and late night texts were catching up to him. For the first time in the past three days, he realized how exhausted he was, and before he knew it, he was overcome by sleep.

                He woke up to the familiar tri-tone dinging on his phone. Foggy eyed from his dried contacts and clueless as to the time, he saw one new message. “I’m not going to Florence anymore either. I don’t care what you do, but I’m not.” “Talk about kicking me when I’m down,” Kasey muttered, barely audibly. Italy had been his idea, mainly because he intended to propose to her there. He instantly shut the idea out, laughing at how pathetic it would be of him to make the journey alone. The alarm on his phone brought him back to reality. Mornings usually were the worst time of day, but especially this morning. After a long debate, he finally mustered the strength to roll out of bed and head for the bathroom. Twenty-five minutes later, he was running late for class as usual. Tuesdays were normally his longest days, but today took the cake – apparently, his newly single girlfriend decided to announce it to the entire school while he was caged up alone in his apartment. The constant drilling of questions and nasty looks from her friends made the day feel as if it was never going to end. After his third class of the day, he’d had enough. The list of effects of skipping his last class and two meetings that night was growing longer and longer as he breathed the sigh of relief once he finally made it back to his apartment. Although he knew he’d hear about it from his roommates who had the same Tuesday night schedule, he was glad he could finally be alone.

                As he sat down on his bed, he caught a glimpse of the Florence info session sheets again. He knew them line by line, but decided to pull them out and look them over again for probably the hundredth time. “Hurry and book your flight at this guaranteed low price! Book before October 15^th and receive a free upgrade to Economy Comfort Seating!” He threw the sheet on the floor and his head found his pillow in record time. He hadn’t even given thought to Florence since he woke up to the text this morning. He started to think about everything he dreamt it was going to be. Part of him still wanted to go, but the part that didn’t put up the more convincing debate. All of a sudden, and almost to spite the part of him that didn’t want to go, he had his computer up and was reviewing costs online again. He had the number memorized, and had even worked enough during the summer to be able to do it comfortably. He was back to another out of mind experience as he clicked “Submit Payment” after typing in all his credit card information. “Thank you for your order! You will receive an email with your flight plans momentarily!”

                “Oh, shit,” Kasey thought to himself, “did I really just do that?” In a matter of two minutes, he had decided he was still going to go to Florence. As sleep overcame him so quickly yet again, he realized just how excited he was to see it all. “Plus,” he thought as he fell into his sleep cycle, “maybe a semester away from this place wouldn’t be all that bad.” 

Paper 1

Sam Leidholt

Literary Visions of Florence

Italy and Self-Development

February 18, 2013

Changes in Florence

            Florence: more than just a breathtaking city in the most beautiful area of Italy. As we have been learning, Florence has long been viewed as an area of escape. Hundreds of years ago, Europeans and wealthy Americans fled to Florence in an attempt to leave behind and forget the less than desirable conditions that had arisen in their home countries. Money issues, relationship problems, work place difficulties, or family troubles were often times the reason for the Italian journey, although not the sole reasons behind it as many people’s voyages were for their own reasons. Whether these situations were self-inflicted or not, Florence was the answer. Not necessarily always the best solution, but coming to Florence helped the refugees find comfort.

            A Room with a View, however, demonstrates Florence’s use as an educational excursion and, in part, merely as a vacation. What Lucy was unaware of, however, were the changes taking place in her views of life. She realized she no longer had a desire to belong to the upper class in Britain’s much defined social class way of life. Through her realization, she even came to denounce it as part of her upbringing by completely cutting herself off from her family ties. Interestingly enough, the book also proved that those who held their social classes near and dear to their hearts were affected by the freedom Florence provides, though not as significantly as Lucy. One example of this is when Miss Bartlett, very sneakily and in a way to draw no attention to herself, aided Lucy’s escape from her family by not reporting to Lucy’s mother her knowledge of Lucy’s intention of running off. However small an act, this speaks volumes of Florence’s power. It shows that people, some as concretely set in their horrific ways as Miss Bartlett, can see the world differently in Florence. Miss Bartlett played an incredibly vital role in the life of Lucy’s mother. She knew that if she left then Mrs. Honeychurch’s life would turn very chaotic because of all that Miss Bartlett did for the family. As much as she may have wanted to leave, especially after her personal changes in Florence, she would never do that to the woman who had taken her in and been so kind to her. While she knew she couldn’t escape the upper class society herself, her actions were vital in Lucy and her new lover’s ending up together.

            That being said, the freedom of Florence can also have a negative effect on its temporary inhabitants. As in The Portrait of a Lady, the main character completely loses her independence. Isabel finds love, or so she thinks, and completely abandons the desirable character traits she left America with in order to remain with Gilbert. The reading shows that while the romantic and eye opening parts of Italy are life changing; their effects can be either negative or positive. Sadly, in this case, the modifications in Isabel’s life are anything but positive as they were in A Room with a View. The life loving, free, and independent person that Isabel comes to Florence as transforms into a restrained, quiet, introvert only to be controlled by the man she fell in love with. The beauty of Florence ignited her love for Gilbert, but their move to Rome alters Isabel into the title of the novel – a “portrait” of a human being, not an actual human being. While this is a very negative change, one of Isabel’s main reasons for doing so is to protect Gilbert’s daughter from her controlling father. So, while we as readers are taken on an emotional rollercoaster ride and want to yell at Isabel for allowing Gilbert to be in control, we also feel sympathetic to Gilbert’s daughter as Isabel feels she must stay so that Pansy can become a free girl.

            In reading these novels at first, it seemed rather farfetched that such drastic alterations in the life of a human being could take place merely from being in a European city. Granted, the city is entirely different from anything these characters knew from their homelands, but why Florence? Why did those changes only seem to happen here? What’s different about Florence in comparison to Sienna? Or Rome? Or anywhere in the world, for that matter? I was a firm believer that this was implausible and something that only happened in books. Until, that is, I realized how differently my views of things back home were becoming. I don’t know if it’s just my brain thinking I need to because of all the change we’ve been reading about, or if it’s actually the freedom of Florence working me over. But I think they can be summed up into three categories: simplicity, school, and home.

            I came to Europe with four pair of pants, eight t-shirts, four sweaters, three hoodies, and two coats. In comparison to my closet at home, I’d say that’s less than 25% of what’s still hanging in my walk-in closet and folded in my dresser drawers. In comparison to what I know think I need, I’d say that’s about 50% too much. I know this is just clothes, but it’s a prime example of exactly what I’m talking about – “the American Dream” always involves more, bigger, and better. The European lifestyle shows, quite bluntly, just how stupid that is. I’ve also realized that how simple different situations with friends and family are when all I’ve been thinking about is how complicated I thought they were. It really just takes some time to step back, look at it and compare it to the big picture of life, and realize how unimportant the minor details that we all focus far too much on really are.

            School and home, while two different things, can fall under one change. Being here has made me realize what my dreams for my life really are and how best to achieve those dreams. While the University of Minnesota has proven to be nothing but fantastic for me in every aspect, I’ve realized that my dreams lie in my home state of South Dakota. That being said, I’ve also decided that once I return to America, I will not be returning to the University of Minnesota. I have, instead, decided that the University of South Dakota is my new home and will help lead me to the dreams I’ve also thought about for my life.

            While I’m not denouncing my childhood or losing my independence, I feel that these changes are pretty substantial in my life. Simply transferring schools has allowed for me to realize my true dreams, chase after them, and hopefully one day look back on this and realize how influential every minor detail has been. Not only has my view of Florence’s power been created, but my view on life also has improved all from my month long stay (so far) here in the beautiful city. So, is the city really a changing place? Or is it just the legacy that continues to change people? While we may never know, I can say it’s worked on me! 

Palazzo Vecchio

Sam Leidholt

Literature

C. Villa

April 22, 2013

Palazzo Vecchio

After eighteen hours of straight downpour in the entire region and an already impressively rainy winter, massive chaos ensued. Florentines had started to accept there was no avoiding their beloved Arno anymore. Many homes and lower lying areas were already filling. The city was continuing its voluntary evacuation, sure to become mandatory at any minute.

While many residents were either trying to grab their most prized possessions and flee or help friends and family do just that, Claudio had accepted his more important task of attempting to secure as much of the city's necessary documents and artifacts as possible. Because many of the other department heads were unable to reach the square, his task kept growing more insurmountable. Not only had he preemptively begun to prepare his department's offices for an evacuation, he now also taken charge of at least three other departments with which he worked closely with as their directors were unable to get near the city center.

Claudio had been so wrapped up in his work that he hadn’t realized the rain had finally ceased. Between flashbacks to losing his home as a child to the running water and hoping his beloved Palazzo Vecchio would somehow remain dry, he hadn’t noticed the water had already rushed the streets. The sand bag wall surrounding the building was holding strong. The water had started to recede thanks to the stopped rain.

As he stood on the balcony watching the foot of water sweep the streets, he gratefully realized how lucky he and the city were to evade a repeat of 1966. This time, the Arno had spared them the severity. 

Final

Sam Leidholt

Literary Visions of Florence

C. Villa

April 29, 2013

4 pics 1 word

     After about three long, painful months of suffering, the deed was finally done. The police had no idea who the perpetrators were since the Italian Police Departments are such a fiasco anyway. Less than a week stood between them and their return to America, where they could be protected by the government against the “outrageous” claims from the Italians, if they were ever to come. And now, as the sun set over the beautiful Tuscan countryside, they looked onward from Piazzale Michelangelo into the dusk.

     Following a week of orientations, being led like lost dogs throughout the city on countless tours, late nights, early mornings, and new friendships, all 27 students were ready for the semester of classes to start. Still adjusting to Italian culture, insecurity and timidity mixed with jet lag and typical first-day-of-class nervousness to produce the four quiet, respectful students Cristina had in her literature class this semester. All four from the University of Minnesota, Florence was indeed a change of a city. The change, however, didn’t stand a chance against the quick adaptability and courage of the small group.

     The fantastic four accompanied by their fearless leader departed on a unique, one-of-a-kind adventure to discover Florence. First, they maneuvered their way through the beautiful, romantic vision of the city they had been greeted with and still believed in. As is true with almost every other aspect of life, sadly, with every sunrise comes a sunset. After expanding on what the group already knew about the romantic vision of Italy and Florence specifically, Cristina introduced them to an entirely new side they had yet to consider. The class took an unnerving interest in this vision of Florence. Murder, cannibalism, violence, and crime consumed the second half of the semester. In the back of Cristina’s mind, a very threatening thought formed. Afraid to even admit it, she was fearful that she had unveiled a monster and dreaded what the future might hold.

     As the semester unfolded, so did the four students in class. As each week passed, the four became more comfortable with one another and more comfortable with Cristina. A favorite of all four, the class often consisted mostly of discussion about different aspects of life, all very easily related to the book being discussed that week. As the semester progressed, the discussions made it easier for everyone to quickly appreciate the bright side of anything or anyone they were initially greeted with, but it also made them curious about the dark side.

     Erin, the only girl in the class, was easily the most studious of the four. She would often spend her Friday nights alone with her cat and her books while others were off making memories. But hey, who’s to judge? She was a very intelligent individual and brought a good deal of analytic thought to the table. Scarily, she was also the student who became most obsessed with the dark vision of Florence and even read more than was assigned simply for pleasure. That in itself is an unequivocal dark act.

     Andrew was the wisest of the group. A well-studied art student, his passion for expression and individuality beamed in class discussions. He was always the student to have read works from the authors used as examples in discussion. Andrew was usually quickest to bring a different point of view to discussion – a point of view with a more open and accepting twist on the story line than was currently being discussed.

     Sam was typically the social loafer of the group. Often times, he would ask Erin what the homework assignments were minutes before they were due. Somehow, he always managed to have somewhat of an idea of the main points of the discussion at hand, probably attributable to his unparalleled intelligence and matchless charm. Always quick to echo the points of others, Sam was occasionally able to throw a little bit of a spin into the discussion, but usually just brought up an entirely new topic that was completely off subject.

     Jack was…well, let’s say unique. Fascinated with the sound of his own voice and overly absorbed with his sense of humor (to which his audience almost always just gave him the pity laugh), Jack was able to contribute clever one liners to the discussion every now and then; nonetheless, he generally never added anything of value. That being said, he was the mastermind who instigated the idea of bettering the class by the removal of one select student.

     In their downtime between classes, all 27 students would typically just hang out in the computer lab of the school recalling stories of last weekend or making plans for next weekend. Since Erin had all her Friday nights planned already, she normally just played “4 pics 1 word” on her iPod touch. After they left the school one day, Jack surprised Sam with the feelings of anger and annoyance he had developed toward Erin.

     “If she asks me for help with that damned game one more time,” Jack gritted through his teeth. “Plus, she’s always just making us look bad in class because she basically memorizes every single book!”

     Sticking in his socially loafing ways and not wanting to verbalize thoughts of his own, Sam didn’t disagree with Jack. Nevertheless, he spent his walk home that night thinking about what Jack had said. “Maybe he’s right…” Sam thought to himself as he put the key in his door. “Maybe class would be better without her… We wouldn’t all look so unprepared all the time. We wouldn’t have to play her stupid game for her. I wonder…” As his thoughts trailed off, the idea had been planted. Sam was the type of person to become infatuated with different thoughts that came into his mind until he acted on them: this was no different.

     Three weeks and countless secret meetings later, the day had come. Andrew, Jack, and Sam had their plan in place. They knew what they were going to do, how they were going to do it, and even had backups and alternatives in place just in case. They met with enough time before class to go over everything one last time, although they all had everything committed to memory by now.

     As they shuffled into the classroom before class that day, Cristina and Erin expected it to be just like any other day. The three perpetrators were ready to carry out their plan. Just before she was going to start class, Cristina was interrupted by Andrew who asked if he could speak with her in the library regarding some issues he was having with his final paper. As they left, Sam asked Erin if she was still stuck on that pic she asked him about earlier on her game. Excited that she was finally going to get to move on to a different picture, Erin reached for her purse and frantically dug for her iPod. Completely unaware of her surroundings, she was suddenly approached from behind and her mouth covered with a rag that was sopping wet with the chemical mixture. She tried screaming, but Jack had too much force and too much of an advantage on her. Sam sprinted for the door to make sure it was shut. As they planned, Andrew had snuck away to pull the fire alarm just in time. Sam and Jack smiled at each other.

“It’s working!” Jack exclaimed. As Erin’s body went limp, Jack did as he was instructed injecting the two vials into her arm. Meanwhile, Sam was busy making sure all the students and teachers had cleared out of the building. Once he saw it was clear, he ran to the bathroom where they hid the supplies in the broken stall. Quickly, the entire room and parts of the other rooms had a layer of the powder they had been given. “It’ll start anything on fire with no trace of ever having been there once it’s burned,” they were told. Sam lit the match and dropped it in the classroom just as Jack sprinted out. They stayed near the doorway for a while watching the room become engulfed. After breathing in enough smoke to give themselves a terrible cough and blood shot eyes, they knew it was their time to head for the rest of the group.

“There they are!” yelled the director of the school as they finally exited the building. “Where’s the third?!” he exclaimed almost immediately after.

“We did all that we could! The door just wouldn’t budge!” hacked up a teary-eyed Jack. He went on to explain the story they had agreed upon: right after Andrew and Cristina left the room, Erin went to use the restroom and Sam and Jack stayed in the classroom to talk about the homework. When the fire alarm went off, they immediately left the room only to see the door to the bathroom was still closed. They did everything in their power to get the door down. Erin was unable to get to the door because the hand dryer had started on fire and quickly consumed the doorframe and sheetrock surrounding it. Before they knew it, the fire had escaped the bathroom and was into the computer lab and the side classrooms. If they wouldn’t have left when they did, they wouldn’t have made it out either.

Finally, after all the questions, the investigation, and updates from the police saying they were absolutely clueless as to why the hand dryer caught fire or how it spread so quickly, Andrew, Jack, and Sam knew they would be able to avoid it for one more week – just long enough to make it home to safety.

“A little ironic, isn’t it?” Sam finally broke the silence, but quietly enough so none of the surrounding tourists would hear what he had to say. “When we first got here, our plane landed just after sunrise. We could appreciate the true beauty of the city and everything surrounding it because of how bright it was. Now we’re watching the sunset, making it harder to see how pretty everything here is. Maybe Florence really does change the people who come to visit it.”

“Shut up, Sam. Who wants another drink?” asked Jack, reaching for the bottle. 

"Collateral Damage" - short story

            Despite the roaring thunder and the immense downpour they left the windows open. While the eaves of the building prevented most of the rain from pouring into the classroom, the thunder could not be helped, and class had to go on. The series of storms that Florence had received during the last 3 days had created several problems for the Oltrarno area and particularly the Santo Spirito neighborhood where the school was located. The buildings within the Piazza, being quite old, experienced a few power outages as well as sewer problems. While the storms were unpleasant, and caused a bit of inconvenience, they were nothing compared to those that the four students in the Literature class were used to dealing with back at their home university in Minnesota. Currently, the school was experiencing intermittent power outages, and the two large windows in the classroom provided plenty of light, allowing class to continue.

            Jack had just gotten back to Florence from Paris for the weekend. Despite the coolness of the spring rain, he had rushed from the train station to the other side of the city to make it to class on time, and was subsequently feeling a bit warm. Noticing Jack’s distress and discomfort, Professor Villa suggested that they should open the glass of the windows as well to let in some fresh air. Normally,from Professor Villa’s point of view Erin was furthest to her left, followed by Andrew, Jack, and finally with Sam furthest to the right. However today, Jack, having arrived late, was not sitting in his usual spot amongst his classmates, and presently was sitting in the seat farthest to the right.  The classroom was small, but much larger than what was needed for a class of four and so the students usually sat in a small semi-circle in the middle of the room.

            As Professor Villa was lecturing about the Grand Tour in Europe the students struggled to stay awake and attentive. The combination of the stifling lack of air within the building, the humidity from the rain, and the fatigue that accompanies Mondays, had created an environment ideal for dozing off. Class slowly rolled on with Erin providing her opinion on the latest excerpt they had read, Sam making an exasperated face into the camera on his iPad, Andrew staring at his notebook fighting the heaviness of his eyelids and Jack tapping his fingers upon the desk uncontrollably.

            Just as Professor Villa thought she had lost their attention for the day, a loud crash drew her attention up from her computer. It appeared the Sam lost his grip on his iPad, thus dropping it, causing the case to crack. Erin let out a laugh, presuming he had dozed off for a moment, just as Andrew and Jack looked on intently at Sam’s face. He seemed to stare off, most of the white of his eyes visible. The Professor was trying to convince Erin to stop her laughing, when she let out a shrill scream. Sam had begun to lean forward and just had fallen out of his chair onto the red carpet covering the floor. His mouth was agape, and his eyes, still open, seemed to stare off to the corner of the room.

Andrew asked “Is he-”

“Dead.” Jack finished in disbelief.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. They all sat there, in utter disbelief, racking their brain for any coherent thought that could make sense of what had just happened, and what they were all looking down at.

The professor got up from her spot sitting on the desk, repetitively muttering “we need help” as she ran out of the room. Jack, Andrew, and Erin remained in their seats, staring at their fellow classmate, who had been sending silly snap chats to his friends just moments earlier, now lying completely still, on the floor in front of them. Within a few moments Mariarosa, Beth, and Daniela had ran into the room, following Professor Villa. Upon taking a glimpse into the room, Beth ran back to the main desk to a phone, and called the police.

            Gathering around Sam on the ground, Daniela reached down and felt for a pulse on Sam’s neck. Slowly looking around at the others in the room she opened her mouth, but no words came out initially. Finally, “I- uh--- I think he is dead” slipped out. With the same unanimity of a crowd moved to applause, everyone drew their hand to their mouth, shocked and in disbelief.

Soon sirens could be heard arriving in the piazza, followed by boots marching up the front steps of the building.  Andrew sat quietly in his seat, as Erin began to cry and Jack whispered “No, no, no, no, no” over and over again under his breath.  

A few moments later, a small group of carabinieri had walked into the room, dressed in their crisp blue uniforms with white accents and helmets. As the scene began to be assessed, there was quite a bit of commotion and talking in Italian between the administrators of the school and the professor. Despite their Italian classes, none of the students were able to follow the conversation, their shock blocking any possible logical comprehension.  Finally, Daniela explained to the students that they needed to take a few pictures, and then they would be able to leave the room. A carabinieri officer slowly walked around the room, taking photos of every nook and cranny, while carefully stepping over Sam’s body sprawled across the floor. Once the officer was done taking the pictures, they students were allowed to get up and leave the classroom.

Andrew, Erin, and Jack each took a seat on the couch, with their professor on a chair next to them, just outside of their classroom. Daniela, Mariarosa, and the Carabinieri all crowded around them. The carabinieri needed to begin questioning the students, so Daniela was chosen to translate between them. The officer asked each of them what had happened, what they saw, if anything unusual had happened during before or during class. Other than the power outage and the strange weather, no one could think of anything out of the ordinary, except for Cristina.

Shaking her head, confused and in disbelief, Cristina quietly said “I don’t know what it has to do with this, but they weren’t sitting in their normal seats today.”

The officer replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that all semester they’ve sat in the same seats. Except for today. I remember thinking how it felt a little odd from my point of view.”

“What does that have to do with this boy being dead?”

“I do not know. That is your job to figure out.  It could be nothing,” she retorted, the obvious annoyance towards the officer detectable in her voice.

Clearly feeling arrogant, the officer disregarded her response, and her comment about the students sitting in different seats. Just then another officer and a member of the coroner’s office emerged from the classroom. The coroner was holding up his hand for them to see. “We found this in the back of his neck.” All of their eyes squinted, trying to make out what the object was that he was holding up. Just 2 cm long and ¼ of a cm thick, it was a tiny needle.

“Is that what I think it is?” The officer who was doing the questioning asked.

“Some kind of tranquilizer needle” replied the coroner.

“That’s not just any kind of needle. That is a high tech needle. What in God’s name is that doing here?!”

“Sir,” another officer chimed in, “what do you mean?”

“I’ve heard about this needle. Just recently. It’s just been developed and is being used by the French CIA.”

The officers then made their way back into the classroom, heading over to the windows. There certainly was enough balcony and roof top, perfectly placed to get good aim right into the classroom. The leading officer ordered 3 of his men to head up to the roof to look around. Perhaps they might find something that could help them. Although, in the back of his mind he though, that if they were dealing with the French CIA, that wouldn’t be likely.

After sending the officers off to the roof, the leading officer returned back to the students and school staff in the computer lab. As if it were even possible, everyone was looking even more confused than they had before.

“Well it looks like we’re dealing with the French CIA. Why, I have no idea. But for now, you should all be free to go. We’ll get to the bottom of this. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a few phone calls.” With that, the officer quickly stepped away, and followed Mariarosa back to the main desk of the school. The officer made a series of phone calls to his boss, relaying the current information, and was told to sit tight, until the director could get in contact with the French CIA. Meanwhile, the students and their professor remained sitting in the computer lab, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, trying to grapple with the mixture of shock and grief.

“Someone say something. I can’t take this silence!” Andrew yelled out. Erin finally opened her mouth, “umm…I don’t know what to say. I mean, yeah, Sam may not have been nice to everyone all the time, but he definitely didn’t deserve this. Who would do this to him?”

With that the lead officer returned to the computer lab. “Well, it seems that the French CIA claim they have no records of any agents in this area. They have no idea either.”

Hesitantly, Jack let out “I- I might…have an idea.” Instantly everyone’s heads spun around. Jack, the guy who had always pulled random metaphors and jokes out of thin air, knew something about the CIA?  Sputtering the sentences out, trying to run everything through his head while he spoke, Jack said, “I just got back from Paris this afternoon. I didn’t think that this would happen. I’m not even sure what I saw. They barely got a look at me. Something happened while I was in Paris. I don’t even know what it was. But I witnessed it, and they must’ve seen me before I ran off….. Sam was sitting in my seat…… That needle was meant for my neck- not his.” 

"Mondays" - short story

“I remember the whole thing clearly, it was early Monday afternoon. God, do I hate Mondays. I had a hell of a time getting to class that day. I was scrambling to finish my assignment at the last minute, as usual, and failed to notice the weather in my haste. I slapped together the final few sentences of my short story and was on my way out the door even before I could zip up my backpack. At the bottom of my building, I was greeted by a face-full of rain as I opened the door. It was already one-fifty – though by the skies you might have thought it nighttime – and class started at two. It was too late to go back for an umbrella. I gritted my teeth and moved forward with my head down to avoid being pelted in the eyes. On every block I’d have about five men shoving umbrellas at me, murmuring ‘umbrello, umbrello’. It was late in the semester and I had made a habit of silently declining any strangers who approached me. About three blocks in, however, I realized that any relief from this torrential downpour would surely be worth a few Euros. I could even pay with coins, which never felt like I was spending that much money anyways. I grabbed the next umbrella that was offered to me, and spent the extra couple of Euros to get the better kind. You know, the ones with the thicker handle and pointed tip. In this storm, there was no way in hell that a crappy little umbrella would even survive my walk to class, and to be honest I had my doubts about the big one.

Surprisingly, the damned thing held its own against the wind and I made it class without getting too soaked. By the time I got there, it was ten after two, but I wasn’t the only late one. As you know, there were only four of us in that class, but that day I was the second to arrive. Cristina was there setting up the projector, and Sam was doing something on his iPad. I set my umbrella against the wall and mumbled greetings to them both as I sat down, more relieved to be out of the storm than anything. I remember Sam saying something to me as I retrieved my folder from my backpack, but to be honest I wasn’t really listening. As a general rule, whenever that kid opened his mouth I would smile, nod and hope to god he wasn’t looking for a response. It was nothing against him personally, I’m sure he was a great guy if you took the time to get to know him; I just wasn’t prepared to make that kind of chronological commitment. Plus, he was from South Dakota. Anything or anyone that can survive in a desolate environment is genetically wired to need very little stimulus. I, on the other hand, tend to surround myself with people who acknowledge that there’s more to life than corn fields and chewing tobacco, but I digress.

If you would’ve asked me who’d be the next to arrive, I’d have thrown down 50 Euros and dared you to bet on Andrew. That man, and I do use the term appropriately (he made it to the ripe age of 30, God rest his soul), missed the bus more than anyone I knew. Plus, the other person we were waiting on was Erin Montemurro. Erin was never late; in fact she’d have been in class most Sundays if the building were open. You can imagine my surprise, then, when into the classroom walks Andrew, only 15 minutes late, which for him was like being 15 minutes early. Despite our age difference, I actually really liked Andrew. He was a real down to earth guy, and had a strange curtain of mystery about him that made you want to get to know him better, unlike Sam.

After greeting Andrew, I asked Cristina what we were going to do in class that day. Before she could respond, Sam somewhat bitterly reminded me that he had just told me we were going to watch Hannibal. I was about to spew some poor excuse as to why I hadn’t heard him earlier when he spared me the trouble by getting up to close the window blinds. Over the course of the semester Sam had unofficially become our ‘window guy’ as he was unparalleled in his eagerness to do that thankless task. I don’t pretend to know why he was always so happy to do it, but I suspect it had something to do with that whole South Dakota lack of stimulus thing.

Sam returned to his seat, and I could hear the obnoxious squeaking of wet shoes rapidly approaching the classroom. The door swung open to reveal Erin, soaked to the bone, out of breath, and visibly anxious at having been so delayed by the storm. She shut the door and pivoted back around, gathering her breath presumably to apologize for her tardiness. Unbeknownst to all of us at the time, that breath would be Erin’s last. She attempted to continue her pivot into a step, but her slicked feet flew out from underneath her. A brief squeal escaped as her body came crashing down to the stone floor. Her neck swung back with tremendous momentum and propelled her skull straight into the ground. Blood immediately pooled around her lifeless body as we gasped in shock. Looking back, she should’ve taken the extra couple of seconds to wipe her feet on the mat upon entering the building. It proved to be a fatal slip-up on her part.

A second after the initial sock, panic began to set in. Sam, who confirmed the absence of a pulse, started sobbing and mumbling incoherently. It was as if Erin’s death was too much for his simple South Dakotan mind to comprehend. I didn’t catch a glimpse of what Andrew was doing at that moment, and I can’t say I had any idea what he was thinking, either. I simply sat in silent disbelief, thinking to myself. First, Andrew arrived before Erin, and now this. I wondered which was more improbable, but couldn’t reach a conclusion. Cristina, being the responsible adult, immediately took out her phone and dialed 113. She explained our situation in Italian that sounded even faster than normal, which I previously thought impossible. Her quick action settled us down a bit, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in.

The ever-widening pool of blood was making me queasy; I could feel my muscles weakening and my stomach churning. Andrew suggested that we move Erin’s body out of the way of the door so the EMTs could enter when the time came. This seemed to snap Sam back to normal, and he wiped his eyes, agreeing that this would be a smart move. The two of them awkwardly approached the body, clearly unsure of the proper way to respectfully move it while creating as little of a mess as possible. They decided the best course of action would be to grab her limbs and lift her a few feet to the side. As fate would have it, this was most definitely not the best course of action. With Sam at the feet and Andrew at the arms, they simultaneously hoisted Erin’s body upwards. At this moment, Andrew’s grip slipped from the bloody limb and her left arm swung down. I could only watch as he plunged forwards to catch the arm, which flopped directly into my umbrella, knocking it from the wall. The falling body pulled Andrew down, giving his lurch deadly momentum as his throat connected with the tip of the umbrella. It must have hit his aorta, because blood started spurting everywhere. As I mentioned earlier, Andrew was known for his poor timing, but for him to hit the umbrella like that was considerably unfortunate, even by his standards.

This time there were three thuds. First, Erin’s body reconnected with the cold ground, then Andrew’s followed suit. On the other side of the room, Cristina fainted at the sight of Andrew’s death and fell back, hitting her head on a desk. With surprising composure, Sam hurried to her side and read her pulse. She was most definitely alive, but the fall had knocked her unconscious. With this, I felt like we had finally caught a break, but just then a deafening clap of thunder sounded and the room went pitch black. It was as if the gods themselves were mocking our situation, showing us just how powerless we really were.

The darkness brought momentary peace to the classroom. The absence of sight allowed my brain to ignore the horrific scene that lay around me. For a brief second, I was even able to forget that I was still stuck with Sam. That moment quickly came to an end, however, when his dreadful voice pierced the silence. This time I was actually listening. In what must have been the most triumphant spark of brilliancy to ever illuminate his feeble mind, Sam suggested that I grab his iPad to shed some literal light on the situation. I should clarify that those puns are my words, not Sam’s, just so you don’t give the kid too much credit. Anyways, I reached down to grope for his backpack, and quickly found that brick of a tablet which most people refer to as an iPad. I brought it up onto the desk in an extraordinary feat of strength, only to be met with an even greater challenge. Sam’s iPad case might have been the only thing on this planet that was thicker than his freakishly large skull. In fact, those two objects were far more similar than most people think. First, they both protected machines with fairly weak processing power, and, second, both of them would be opened up in the next few seconds.

In a surprising turn of fortune, I was actually able to remove the cover from Sam’s case and expose the brightly lit screen. With Erin gone, his iPad was just about the only thing Sam had left in this world, and he asked me to pass it to him as soon as the case was off. I obliged, and tried to slide it across the dusty floor over towards his corner. At the time, I didn’t realize how large the ominous crimson pool had grown. Fortunately, Sam noticed his Ipad’s trajectory and made a quick move to snag it before it could meet the blood. Unfortunately, Sam tripped while attempting this daring save. Once more, blood sprayed the walls of our classroom. The hydroplaning iPad cracked to a halt against the wall, and so did Sam’s head against the floor. When the blood had settled, it became apparent that Sam was dead. I was surprisingly calm by this point. When I had found out we were going to watch Hannibal, I mentally prepared myself to see raw brains, so I maintained my composure at the sight of Sam’s. As his humble life faded into oblivion, the lights flickered back on to irradiate the scene. It was at this moment that the EMTs burst into the classroom, to their shock finding three more motionless bodies than they had been alerted to.

And that, officer, is the true story of what happened that day.” Upon finishing his frightening recollection, Jack leaned back in his chair, visibly exhausted. His eyes looked empty and emotionless; his hunched posture conveyed the same.

The mustachioed man in the Carabinieri uniform chuckled a little, shaking his head. “So you’re telling me that three people are dead, two of whom have blunt trauma wounds to the head and one impaled in the neck, not to mention the unconscious woman we found, and this all happened from people slipping!?”

Jack shot back up in the chair, “Do you think I could make something like that up?”

“Yes, because you just did,” the policeman said plainly, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good story, kid, but how do you explain the bloody baseball bat that we found in the closet with your fingerprints all over it?”

“Oops.” Jack admitted defeat, almost seeming relieved, “Well you can’t blame me for trying, officer”

“Actually I can, it’s called obstruction of justice. But you’ll already be locked up for life anyways, I suppose.” He paused for a second before continuing, “But tell me this, son, what drove you to do it? Those were your classmates and your friends!”

Without hesitation, Jack shrugged, “Like I said at the beginning, I really hate Mondays.”