Recipient: lolaraincoat, who has a very cool LJ name. Prompt: "Why," murmured Professor Binns, "is everybody always picking on me?" Word count: um... 100! Yes! Totally! (and not actually 230.) Rating: G. I'd say warning for character death but, you know... I intended originally to write something funny, but then I remembered I suck at writing humour, so this came out instead.
Professor Binns awoke, feeling an uncomfortable pressure on his chest. He was unsure of why but attributed it to another Monday morning facing his second year combined Slytherin/Gryffindor class. He prepared for class without thinking, looked at himself in the mirror without thinking, and took some moments of walking down the hallway without thinking before he realised that there had been no reflection in the mirror when he looked in.
How odd, he thought.
He attempted to open the door to his classroom, feeling a sense of dread which he again attributed to his class. Teaching had ceased to be a joy long ago, ceased to be a challenge shortly thereafter, and ceased to even interest him shortly after that. Teaching youngsters to care about things that had happened centuries ago was not something to be enjoyed, but endured, until he shook off this mortal coil.
The door wouldn't open for him.
He sighed, pushed on the door, and fell through it.
Yet another prank by his oh-so-witty second year students, he was certain.
He looked around the empty classroom, but the point of the prank eluded him. They often did, these days.
"Why," murmured Professor Binns, "is everybody always picking on me?"
He picked himself up off the floor, and thought nothing more of it. Another day closer to escape.
Shaking off this mortal coil will be a blessing, he thought, before walking through his chalkboard without noticing.
Being stuck at work for an eternity is certainly one of my nightmares - I can't imagine how much worse it would be with teenagers involved. A great idea and a really sad concept.
Prompt: "Why," murmured Professor Binns, "is everybody always picking on me?"
Word count: um... 100! Yes! Totally! (and not actually 230.)
Rating: G. I'd say warning for character death but, you know...
I intended originally to write something funny, but then I remembered I suck at writing humour, so this came out instead.
Professor Binns awoke, feeling an uncomfortable pressure on his chest. He was unsure of why but attributed it to another Monday morning facing his second year combined Slytherin/Gryffindor class. He prepared for class without thinking, looked at himself in the mirror without thinking, and took some moments of walking down the hallway without thinking before he realised that there had been no reflection in the mirror when he looked in.
How odd, he thought.
He attempted to open the door to his classroom, feeling a sense of dread which he again attributed to his class. Teaching had ceased to be a joy long ago, ceased to be a challenge shortly thereafter, and ceased to even interest him shortly after that. Teaching youngsters to care about things that had happened centuries ago was not something to be enjoyed, but endured, until he shook off this mortal coil.
The door wouldn't open for him.
He sighed, pushed on the door, and fell through it.
Yet another prank by his oh-so-witty second year students, he was certain.
He looked around the empty classroom, but the point of the prank eluded him. They often did, these days.
"Why," murmured Professor Binns, "is everybody always picking on me?"
He picked himself up off the floor, and thought nothing more of it. Another day closer to escape.
Shaking off this mortal coil will be a blessing, he thought, before walking through his chalkboard without noticing.
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(And you have a very cool name too.)
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