Teacher's Pet by Cecilia Kennedy

When they converted the old high school into a Tiki bar, locals showed up in droves to

sample the drinks, gawk at the banana plants and ceramic art masks. Elva hasn’t been there

yet, and she needs some respite from office drama, so she treats herself to a seat at the bar,

festooned with shells, bamboo—and a rainforest show of flashing lights, thunder, and

waterfalls every fifteen minutes.

At the end of the bar, she notices something slightly out of place: a ragged, dusty teddy

bear, with a sign printed near its feet: “Millie attended Apple Rose High in 1944 and always

took her stuffed bear with her to school. Do not touch it or remove it from this space.”

“So is this place haunted?” Elva asks the bartender.

“Not really. Just talk, you know?”

Probably just talk to keep the tourists coming, Elva thinks.

After her second zombie, Elva ventures off into the garden adjacent to the Tiki bar. She

watches birds flit between the flowers and notices a low humming sound, which she follows to

the path’s edge where the humming grows louder, and as she listens, it rises in pitch and

falls—and rises again, forming words—and her skin prickles when she hears, “Leave them

alone! They’re all mine!”

Elva rubs her eyes, pinches her cheeks. She must have had too much to drink, as the

garden now appears to be growing walls all around her. They’re hazy, but distinct. Before her is

a chalkboard, and she’s standing between rows of desks. A teacher, in 1940s dress, taps the

blackboard for attention. Elva looks to her left and to her right, as students materialize in their

seats, wide-eyed, with their mouths sewn shut. One of them—a girl—clutches a stuffed bear.

The name on her desk reads “Millie.” The teacher’s eyes glow red, and a jolt of terror ripples

through Elva’s veins. As she looks for a way out, the walls flicker, and the words “Leave them

alone” float in the air.

She makes it to the back door of the restaurant’s kitchen to catch her breath. But when

she peeks inside, the cooks wear clothing from another era and stir boiling pots filled with

bones and small skulls.

“We’ll never leave,” they chant, “as long as all remains.”

Elva pulls away from the door, gathers her strength, and realizes what she must now do to put

the souls at rest. To make things right.

She returns to her seat at the bar, pays her tab, takes Millie’s bear from its place, runs

from the crumbling brick and wood, as the restaurant collapses—and she escapes, with the

ghosts like plumes, rising in the evening mist.

 Cecilia Kennedy (she/her) is a writer who taught English and Spanish in Ohio for 20 years before moving to Washington state with her family. Since 2017, she has published stories in international literary magazines and anthologies. Her work has appeared in Tiny Frights, Maudlin House, Tiny Molecules, Meadowlark Review, Vast Chasm Literary Magazine, Kandisha Press, Ghost Orchid Press, and others. You can follow her on Twitter (@ckennedyhola). Instagram:  ceciliakennedy2349