1. The beginning

This is Part 1 of Mark Ali’s Animated Nightmares. Now that you have subscribed, get a new part of this short story delivered to your inbox each week. Get the complete ebook on 31 October 2024 on Amazon or Gumroad. Order the paperback edition now.

All he could hear was the non stop ticking noise and the noise of his different classmates talking. He could barely hear the teacher continuing his lecture about gravity. He looked down at his notebook and started sketching something. It had long limbs and a small head. He finished rather quickly and wrote his name at the bottom, Grey.

“What is that thing?” asked Mark, staring toward his drawing.

“It’s…” he shivered, Grey couldn’t say its name. It would bring back too many painful memories of the incident.

Suddenly the bell rang and Grey grabbed his stuff and scurried away.

He marched through the hallway to his next class, which would start in approximately three minutes. He arrived into the big and moldy history room and climbed up the stairs to his desk. History was his least favorite subject because of the man behind the slaughter.

“Good morning, class!” exclaimed his teacher with a broad smile. “Today, we are going to continue our lesson on the fall of the Roman Empire.”

A student clambered up the stairs to sit next to Grey. “Hey Grey, How ya doin’.” asked his friend Bob.

“Pretty good, and you?” replied Grey, turning his attention toward his friend.

Bob nodded and focused on the lesson. Bob was a hardworking boy, who was pretty good at a few sports and always carried around stuff in his pockets, like lock picks.. He liked arguing and usually won most arguments. Grey kept a listening ear and took notes when needed, but spent most of the lesson sketching a little more.

After an hour of history, he was tired, but the worst was yet to come, a session with the counselor. A young annoying man, who would talk to “troubled” children and try to “help” them.

Lucky for Grey, there was lunch first.

Grey walked slowly through the cantina with his lunchbox, heading to a table outside covered in sunshine. The area was surrounded by mountains covered in settlements. His friends were already there, waiting for him. Jeremy was talking to Bob about some conspiracy theory and Pete was eating a homemade salmon sandwich silently listening. He sat down and rummaged through his lunchbox for his food.

“You know, I heard that the school principal is plotting something,” explained Jeremy, “Something dark I tell you, that will end the school!”

“That’s just a bunch of beeswax. Where do you even hear this type of stuff?” Bob questioned, almost laughing.

“From the trustful source of, none of your business,” he replied, taking a big spoon of yellow mashed potatoes.

“You never know,” said Grey. Bob huffed and started eating again.

After a long talk about whether a few people were actually lizards and an argument about the Maze Runner series, the bell rang. He dreaded the so-called therapy sessions, where all Mr. Patrick did was make him feel bad. He had been taking them for about a month, one session a week.

Grey opened the wooden door leading into the counselor’s office and entered. Mr. Patrick was in his curved chair with a notebook scribbling something down with great intensity. As Grey sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair, the counselor swiveled in his chair to face him and adjust his own glasses.

“Ready for another session, Mr. Wilson,” he asked. Grey had told this man to call him by first name, not last. He nodded.

“What do you remember of the incident from six years ago in 2006 when you were in fifth grade?” he asked, staring straight into his deep brown eyes. Grey did not want to answer.

“Last time, you told me you would tell me if I let you leave early last time,” said Mr. Partick. “That is what I did, so it is time to tell me what happened.”

Grey thought for a second before answering. He looked out the window, which had a view of an old abandoned animation studio. Mr. Patrick was still waiting for a response, his hands twitched, and he started writing.

“Alright, it was near the end of the summer, we were excited for our end-of-year camping trip. The one who was bringing us was a new teacher, his name was Mr. Scar. He was funny, but we could feel something was wrong with him.” Grey shivered. “While driving, the driver passed out and we crashed. We panicked because we were in the middle of the woods! Our teacher told us we were going to sleep in the bus and wait for help, but the help never did come. The next day, we trekked through the woods looking for help, until we found the place. A giant abandoned amusement park named Funland.” Grey didn’t want to talk anymore or even think about the horrors of what happened.

The counselor was scribbling notes extremely quickly, to get as much of the story as possible.

“We found a hotel and stayed there, but in the night Nick disappeared. And then…” He was about to cry.

“Come on, continue,” urged Mr. Patrick, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Grey couldn’t and started crying even harder. He thought of the butcher’s room, the maze, the monkey man, the one who had caused so much pain. Mr. Patrick sighed and rose out of his chair. He walked towards his desk, pulled out a greasy pizza slice, and handed it to Grey.

“Here, for your troubles,” he said with a smile.

Grey took the pizza hesitantly and muttered a thanks. He walked swiftly out of the room.

The bell had just rung. After another hour of classes, the day was done. He now had to wait for his theatre club to start. He sat on the stage eating some biscuits alone. The other actors were in the theatre room chatting and preparing for the class. Grey was quite fond of the theatre classes because he could be someone different.

“Hello, today we can either play a few games or brainstorm a new play,” said Ms. Seal in her British accent. Obviously, most students chose to do a new play. A few ideas were thrown around like a murder mystery, or a comedy. Since those two were the most prominent ideas, our teacher chose to do a murder mystery comedy. The different students brainstormed different locations, but right as the class was about to settle on an idea the bell rang.