Plane Parts

flash fiction

“It's the pieces of that plane!”

“I'm done with these weird things happening!”

“They've gotta be cursed! People died in that crash!”

“I'm supposed to be learning, not being scared for my life!”

“Is this school so cheap that it will accept any equipment, even if it compromises student safety!?”

You were overwhelmed. Your students were right. Their lives seemingly had been compromised, all to save some money.

You sent them home early that Friday afternoon uncertain of how many would come back again Monday, but certain that you wouldn't blame them if they didn't.

The mess on the workshop tables was visible from your desk. You sat marking and couldn't ignore the urge to look over. An amorphous cloud hovered over the plane parts and tools as if examining them. It took shape, almost human.

It drifted closer.

“I told you to stay away from the students,” you said, staring right at it. “That was part of the deal.”

You opened a desk drawer and took out a small amulet. The figure stopped. You walked over to a work table and smashed the charm with a large hammer.

“The deal is over.”