Favoriteteacher8mp4

"Don't worry," he soothed, his voice now coming from the space right behind my chair. "I give everyone a passing grade... eventually."

I frowned. There were no students in the room. But as Mr. Aris began writing on the chalkboard, the camera panned slowly to the right. There, sitting in the front row, was a boy. He was perfectly still—so still he looked like a mannequin. FavoriteTeacher8mp4

"Good evening, class," he whispered. The audio was crisp, unnervingly clear against the grainy visual. "I’m so glad you stayed late for the extra credit." "Don't worry," he soothed, his voice now coming

Suddenly, the video glitched. The colors inverted, turning the sunset purple and the shadows neon green. When the image stabilized, Mr. Aris was standing directly in front of the camera. His face filled the entire screen. The glare was gone from his glasses, revealing empty, black sockets. "You're late for class," he said. There were no students in the room

The screen went black. In the reflection of the monitor, I could see the silhouette of a tall man standing in the corner of my room, holding a piece of chalk. I haven't looked back since.

On screen, Mr. Aris reached out a hand, his fingers stretching toward the lens until they seemed to press against the glass of my monitor.

Mr. Aris stopped writing. He didn't turn around. "Do you have the answer, Leo?"