Azael and the Academy of Selistor (Short Story Ver.)

A short story I wrote for a creative writing class. Mild language, be advised. I hope to turn it into a novel!

Azael and the Academy of Selistor

“Just a few more minutes, Azael!” screamed Mariah.

“Hurry, please…,” I think to her. As if hearing my plea, or rather because she heard my plea, she strengthens her resolve and continues her chant. The mass of despair and hatred I have held in golden binds roars and struggles, draining my strength even further.

“Almost there” she says in my head, continuing the chant. I’m slipping. I can feel it. The demon, monster, spirit, whatever it is, suddenly stops. I sigh with relief.

Mariah screams. “Don’t let up, it’s preparing itself!” It suddenly extends itself, exerting force on every part of my cube of light.

“S**t!” I scream, seeing cracks forming on the gauntlets encasing my arms. With a final shriek, the creature bursts. As I fall to my knees, I see my barriers begin to crumble. “No, no, no, no, NO!” I beg internally. My gauntlets shatter, and all I see is white.

But wait. This isn’t how my story begins. As I’m blown back, my mind calls forth how I got into this situation to begin with. How could I forget? After all, if it weren’t for everything that came before now, I’d be sitting at home, stationed on the couch with a good book and a cup of tea.

My name is Azael Hammons. I was born and raised in downtown St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States. I’m 18 years old and graduated from high school this summer. I’ve had a relatively normal life. My mom, dad, and I live in a 2-bedroom apartment, as we have for as long as I can remember. I started school when I was 5 and did okay. I made B average grades, nothing special but not too bad.

I’ve always been a bit of a loner. I have friends and have never had trouble making them; I just always felt different from everyone else. I didn’t think I was better than they were or anything, and I had no problems with self-confidence. I just always knew there was something off about me. For starters, I’ve always noticed things other people can’t see or can barely see. When I was a kid, everyone my age could see everything I could see, and I didn’t think there was anything weird about that. However, the older I grew, the less people could see what I was talking about, so eventually I just stopped talking about it. That doesn’t mean they went away, however. The two-tailed fox on the playground, the translucent cat in the library with a strange passion for historical fiction, the scaly girl that always watches the chemistry classes and takes better notes than I ever could. All of these are so clear to me, I just can’t understand why everyone else can’t see them. The only ones who can are typically shy and introverted and would rather not talk about them. That is, aside from my parents.

My parents have always known about the things I can see, because they can see them, too. For some reason, none of them can ever enter our apartment. I never really gave any of this much thought, as I had to focus on my studying rather than the spirits that seem to be haunting the city. That is, until I saw it. I was at the mall with my friends, when a flyer caught my eye. It drew my eyes like a magnet to a refrigerator. It somehow looked like an ancient scroll and a freshly printed copy paper flyer at the same time. “Attention, all you who see that which cannot be seen. The Academy of Selistor is now looking for new students. Requirements: Must be at least eighteen years old, have a high school diploma, be able to see this flyer, and submit an up to 500-word essay on your experience with the unseen. Essays may be sent by mail, addressed to Selistor Admissions. Good luck and may your sight always guide you!”

I must have been staring for a while, because my best friend Jack crept up behind me and suddenly grabbed me. “Why are you staring at a wall, Az? You finally going crazy on us?”

“Now, now, Jack,” said Avery, the third of our trio. “If anyone out of the three of us is crazy, we all know it’s you.”

Jack, pretending to faint, chooses the bathos route. “How could my own friend, my brother, my partner-in-crime, malign me so devastatingly? Oh, pity of pities!”

Snapped out of it and slightly bemused, I finally speak up. “We get it, Jack, you got a 5 on the AP English test; you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

Jack spins around. Suddenly serious for the first time today, he says “Speaking of, I know where I’m going to college!”

“What?!” Avery exclaims, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “I told you immediately when I got accepted to UMSL for biology; why did you wait so long?”

“Chill, Avery,” Jack said, “I just got the email today. I’ll be going to St. Louis University for an English major!”

“That’s great news, Jack!” I said, “I’m so happy for you!” Jack dramatically pulls off a power pose with a smug grin on his face. Suddenly, however, they both turn to me, and I know what’s coming.

“Have you applied to or chosen any schools yet, Az?” Avery asks.

“Not really,” I say. Wait. What about that flyer? I turn around quickly, looking for the strange notice again, but it seems to have disappeared. “Actually, I’m thinking of applying to the Academy of Selistor.”

“The what?” both of my friends ask simultaneously. “Where is that?” asks Avery, at the same time as Jack asks, “Is that European or something?”

“Ha ha, no,” I explain, “it’s here in St. Louis.”

“You’re pulling our legs, right?” asks Jack bluntly. “Never have I even heard of that.”

“Now, now, Jack,” Avery delivers his signature line again. “It’s entirely possible it’s just a smaller school or that it’s somewhere in the metropolitan area. Where is it, Az?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” I admit. “I guess I have to apply first and then I learn where it is. Somewhere nearby to be sure.”

“That sounds pretty suspicious. Are you sure this is something you can trust?”

“Don’t worry, Avery, I am. It seems like a perfect fit for me.” A perfect fit for me and my weird abilities, I think to myself. Suddenly, Jack looks at his watch.

“Crap!” Jack exclaims loudly enough for a few heads to turn. “It’s already 6 o’clock!”

“Jack, you’ve got to finish your work, and I’ve got to go to my piano lessons!” Avery says, on top of everything as usual. “Az, if you believe that this Academy is the best place for you, then go for it. You should fill out that application tonight.”

“I will once I talk to my parents about it.” I reply.

“Damn it, Az, you should have done that before telling us. Oh, yeah, the time! See you guys later and get home safe!” Jack says in a hurry.

“Alright, guys, see you later!” I say. Now all I have to do is explain this whole deal to Mom and Dad, I think reluctantly as I walk home.

It’s a short walk back to the apartment from the mall. The trees are still green, and the flowers are starting to dwindle in their blooms. The air smells faintly sweet, likely oils from the plants released by the heat and humidity. Why did that flyer catch my eye? It was just hanging there and I couldn’t get over how it looked, almost as if there were two flyers visually superimposed upon each other. Why am I so set on applying when I know nothing about the academy, not to mention the fact that I’m never able to make decisions? I just couldn’t look away. I’ve never been particularly good at anything in school; maybe this is my chance to find a use for my abilities. Why am I determined to follow something that I’ve been trying to ignore for the past four years? Even ignoring it, I was still curious. I still wanted to know more. I still didn’t excel in a normal academic environment, but maybe this is the thing I can finally do right. Rhetorical questions like these keep flowing through my mind until I reach my front door. Taking a few deep breaths to compose myself, I put my key in the lock, turn it (it’s unlocked already; I should have known, but I do it instinctively anyway), and open the door.

“I’m home!” I say, loud enough to be heard in every room, but not shouting so as not to disturb the neighbors.

“Welcome back,” my mom says from the kitchen, “how was the mall?”

“Good,” I say, “Jack has decided where he’s going.”

“Wonderful!” my dad says from the living room as he puts down the paper. “Where’s he going?” he asks inquisitively. I fill them in on all of the news from our meet, save the flyer. That can wait till dinner.

“You came in at the right time; I just finished cooking!” Mom exclaims. Well, I guess it won’t have to wait too long…

We start eating and talk about the latest news. Finally, once we’ve finished, my dad asks me the question I know is coming. “Any leads on what you want to do now that you’ve graduated?”

I take a deep breath and end up blurting it out to get it off my chest. “At the mall, while we were walking, we passed a flyer, and I was the only one who could see it, and it advertised a school for people who can see things like me, and I really want to go there!” Whew, I sigh, I said it. My parents seem surprised but not overly shocked. Huh? Do they think I imagined it or something? What are they going to say?

After a brief pause, Mom breaks the silence. “Was this place… called the Academy of Selistor?”

HUH?!?! “Y-yes,” I reply, visibly shocked. I recollect myself and, after taking a breath, ask, “How did you know?”

Mom sighs, and my parents exchange a glance. “Well, you see,” she starts, “your father and I met at a sister school.”

What? Wait a minute, what?! “I thought you met at UCLA! You even have your diplomas; I’ve seen them!” I sputter, confused.

My parents start to stand up, and as they do, Dad begins to speak. “Those diplomas are… not how they seem. Honey, I think it’s time.”

My mom smiles, in a nostalgic, almost sad kind of way. “Yes, you’re right.”

My parents both take off their wedding rings, and as they do, the rings change before my eyes. They become two interlocking bands, and they surge forth to be centered between Mom and Dad, right at chest level. The smaller ring, my mother’s, enters my father’s until they lie flush, and then they start spinning on all three axes. To my utter astonishment (if I could be more surprised than I already am), a glow begins to emanate from them, almost like a shining jewel in the center. My parents clasp hands, and as they do, a light burst of wind shoots out from where they stand.

They start speaking words I vaguely recognize as Latin. As they do, the wind grows stronger and stronger, to the point that all our hairs are blowing in it, yet not a single paper or picture is affected by it. As they continue speaking, no, chanting, the apartment as I know it falls apart. Paintings start to morph, the windows darken, and the air starts to calm down. The pulsing circles between them slowly decelerate, and as they stop, my parents let go of each other. Slightly out of unison, my parents say a final word: reveneo. Their rings return to being rings and slip onto Mom and Dad’s fingers by themselves.

“The veil has been lifted,” Mom says. In reply, Dad finishes, “And nature’s bride has been revealed.”

I finally speak up. “I think I really deserve an explanation now.”

Dad looks at me and says, “We have the perfect place for that.”

Mom takes the lead, and we walk towards the bedrooms. Once we reach the end of the hall, we stop.

“Are we going to your room?” I ask.

Mom shakes her head and smiles, this time in a brighter manner. “Place your hand on the wall,” she says. I do as she says, clearly confused. “Now repeat after me.”

Alright, Mom, sure? I think hesitantly.

“Reclude, occultatum unum,” she says slowly and clearly. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can do this! I reassure myself. Taking a deep breath, I repeat what she has said. “R-reclude, occultatum unum.”

Suddenly, the solid wall beneath my hand becomes fluid in place, like a wall of non-Newtonian fluid. Almost immediately the wall dissipates before my eyes. Where it stood now stands a door, like every other one in our apartment, save for the large, arcane eye painted in the center.

“Go ahead,” my father invites me. Again taking a deep breath, I grasp the handle and turn it, opening the door.

Inside I see a room I’ve never seen before, rather, a room unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The walls are painted in a deep purple, and slightly dim light fills the room from unknown sources. A variety of strange books, scrolls, and tools line the tables and desks filling the room, and as I step in to take a closer look, my parents follow behind, closing the door. As soon as it latches, all sound from outside the room fades, as if I had suddenly become deaf.

“What is this?” I ask. “How have I never seen this before?”

With a smug expression on their faces, my parents exchange a look. My mother decides to answer my queries. “This is our workroom. It’s where we study, perform experiments and rites, and base our jobs.”

Turning to my dad, I say, “I thought you were a structural architect!” Turning back to my mom, “I thought you were some kind of designer. I’m more confused than ever!”

“We never truly lied to you; we just stretched the truth a bit to match what is seen as normal,” my mother says in reply. “Your father is an alchemechanical engineer, and I design various types of focuses, poultices, and that kind of thing.”

I shake my head in a flabbergasted manner. “I don’t understand any of this.”

My father puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder and tells me to sit at one of the desks. “This is where you can write your application to Selistor. We’ll give you some private time to process all this and work on applying.”

“Wait!” I exclaim, but my mother is already opening the door. As they exit, I notice that the hallway has disappeared, and their closet has taken its place. The door shuts firmly behind them. “Well, I guess all I can do is what they’ve told me.” Grabbing a pen from the pen cup to my right, I begin my application.

“To: The Academy of Selistor

  “From: Azael Hammons

            “Dear Selistor Applications Officer, my name is Azael Hammons. I graduated from high school this past year and have always been able to see things that other people cannot. When I was a child I found it normal; however, as I have grown up, I have realized that this is a more unique trait. When I was seven, I was on the playground at school, and an impossibly large dog came running towards us. I screamed, at which the animal ran. My teacher came over to ask what happened and make sure I was not hurt. Upon explaining the event, my teacher chuckled and told me it was my imagination and that I should make sure to go to bed extra early that night. I knew that it was there, so when I got home, I told my parents. They told me it was nothing to be afraid of and to try not to think about it, because it would not happen again. I kept seeing things; however, I did not have another noteworthy incidence until seventh grade. I was walking home from school when I had a feeling someone was following me. When I turned around, there was nothing there. As I looked forward again, I saw a man dressed in all black, with indistinguishable features. Upon my seeing him, he raced towards me and told me to never acknowledge anything like him and put his finger to his lips. When I was about to ask him what he meant, he vanished. I have seen and interacted with many similar beings throughout my life and have always known there was something different about me. There have been snakes with three heads, a woman with hair like wheat dancing a few feet above the park ground, and a fish swimming through the air that I gave some water to. I would like to learn more about these situations and these mysterious creatures and people, and sincerely hope you'll consider my application to your academy. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Phew! I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s good enough, I’m sure. Before checking with my parents, I take a closer look at the room. There’s one table covered in sheets of paper with graphs, measurements, and designs in Mom’s handwriting. Other tables hold various strange gadgets, plants, and science equipment. A distiller, mortar and pestle, and ceremonial knife lie near these, as well as several rocks and crystals. In the back corner of the room sits what appears to be a customized computer, much nicer than the laptops we have. I boot it up and try to log in but it has some sort of authentication that I can’t figure out. Alright, that’s enough, I think to myself. When I open the door, I find myself in my parents’ closet. I walk out with my application and see them sitting on the bed.

“U-um I’m, I’m done…” I say shyly.

“Great!” My mom says, continuing “I’m sure you’ll be accepted; you should send it right away.”

“What?” I exclaim, confused. “Don’t you want to look it over and make sure everything looks alright?”

My dad chuckles, “We’re positive it’s great. Plus, don’t you think it would be a little unfair if people with experience like us were to help you while other applicants don’t have any way to receive the same guidance?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I say, dejected. Suddenly, a large question arises in my mind. “Oh! How do I send this in? It just said that it was to be addressed to the Academy of Selistor, but it had no address.” I figure that they might know since they said they went to a similar school and at least had heard of the school.

“Just do as it said on the flyer and put it in the mail. The Academy will take care of the rest themselves.” I guess that’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard today by far. “You should mail it and go to bed. It’s getting pretty late,” my mom tells me.

“Alright,” I say, “Goodnight.” My parents wish me sweet dreams as I close their door. I leave the apartment, walk down the stairs, and hurry to the postal service receptacle at the front of the complex. Once I drop it in, I head back, lock the front door, and go to my room to take my medications. I end up taking a longer shower than usual, processing the events of the day. I take significantly less time brushing my teeth. When I finally get to my bed, I’m so exhausted from the day that my sleeping pills overpower my insomnia near instantaneously, and I drift off to sleep.

I find myself an observer in my dream, which is extremely uncommon for me. I see myself wearing some sort of golden glove, and I’m accompanying a woman, about my age, who seems to be chanting something. Strangely enough, I can hear the thoughts of the me in the dream. He is desperately concentrating on trying to contain some sort of gruesome monster that is encased in chain-like mesh the same color as his glove. Dream Azael and the woman are communicating telepathically with strained words and short breaths. She is rushing her chant as quickly as possible without losing her articulation. Suddenly and without warning, the me in the dream seems to falter. The woman screams at him to keep at it, but it’s no use. He’s out of energy. The monster breaks through the cage it’s being held in. A huge flash of blinding gold light emanates from the broken shards and I hear a ringing in my ears, as if a flash-bang grenade had been thrown at me. The me in the dream is screaming and I hear one thing. He calls the woman something: Mariah.