Malverice Academy had been officially closed for thirteen days, and the following morning it would finally be reopened. 

Hugo Reymond had found himself being the only student at Malverice so eager for the weeks of systematic and prolonged school days to return. 

He’d spent winter break doing the opposite of what it was intended for. Instead of unwinding his chaotic and messy adolescent consciousness, he did his very best to pick up any part-time job willing to hire him and use whatever currency he made to pay for his dorm, feed his three Persian cats, and print out awareness fliers for the club he ran.

Even as the last hours of break began slipping away, he found himself marching up, and past Malverice’s open gates towards the three-storied structure where he’d applied for the last job he’d take on before break ended. Halfway through his walk down the courtyard, it began to sprinkle, and by the time he’d reached the Academy entrance, he was dripping wet. Water rolled down his back to puddle around his nice dress shoes. 

“Honestly…” He whispered, quickly rustling moisture from his loose curls and tilting his head to try and knock the water from deep in his ears.

“Did it have to start raining now? It couldn’t have waited until I was inside?”

Hugo sighed, glancing at his reflection in the pristine glass doors. Rain spilled down the sharp bridge of his nose and across his high cheekbones. 

“Alright, you look just fine.” He said to himself, releasing another quick, irritated breath before knocking against the door. 

He, unwillingly, hadn’t entered the academy in two weeks. Students had been instructed not to step foot on the grounds, so they couldn’t muddle up any remodeling, gardening, or painting the school may have done.

But this was a particular case.

Hugo stuffed a hand into his pocket and pulled a neatly folded paper free. He opened it and squinted down at the fine print.

“Art models needed! Payment will be rewarded accordingly!” was written at the top, and under that, “Malverice Academy Students only. Write in for an appointment. See further instructions below.”

Hugo whistled one lengthy note to himself as he reread the lettering. 

He was on time, and the date was correct. He’d even done his hair, not that it mattered, thanks to the rain, but hopefully, his nice shoes would make up for it. Had he missed something?

His heart stopped beating as a shadow began painting itself across the flier he held.

His eyes snapped upwards and instantly fell on a woman waiting on the other side of the glass door.

He misstepped backward, nearly tripping down the set of stairs he’d taken to reach the entrance. 

“Heavens!” He screeched, dilated eyes returning to the doors.

The woman wore the typical Maverice professor uniform, except she wore an apron over hers, streaked with what looked to be dried white paint. 

She looked to Hugo with squinted sage-green eyes as though unable to see him properly through the glass.

Hugo exhaled the sudden fright away and quickly stepped up to the doors, raising the flier he held for her to observe. 

“I’m here for this! I want to take the job!” He said loud enough for his voice to bleed through the entrance. 

When all the woman did was tilt her head, long red tresses tied up in a tail following her head easily, Hugo tried again.

“I have an appointment for today for the model opportunity! I’m here so the artist who made this flier can paint me?” 

At last, the woman behind the glass nodded, and a large smile broke across her mouth. 

A key was brought from her apron and pushed into the door’s lock. A moment later, Hugo was welcomed inside.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you very well.” The woman said, standing by with hands folded as Hugo took a minute to brush water from his coat.

“It’s fine. I was just worried my confirmation letter got lost in the postal.” He replied. “I need this job for a last bit of money before school begins tomorrow.”

The woman didn’t reply for a time, simply raised a brow as though perplexed, and then nodded. 

“Ah, of course.”

Hugo finished making himself presentable and turned to the lady. She seemed to be in her early thirties, with fair skin that appeared to shimmer against her brow of fire-red locks. She looked comfortable yet unknowing, confident yet curious.

Suddenly, Hugo raised a recalling finger. 

“You must be the new art club professor! During winter break, I heard they had hired someone to take over Miss Dahlia’s position after she unexpectedly resigned.” 

The woman smiled once again, her faded face shaded by the spontaneous stormy weather outside. 

“Yes. I’m the art professor. I made the…” She paused, gesturing to the flier Hugo still held in his hand. “I made the paper so I could make art of some students for my club members.” 

Hugo smiled, nodding his head and outstretching a hand. 

“That sounds like a good idea. I’m Hugo Reymond. I run the journalism club, am captain of the finance committee, and lead spokesperson on the student body board.” 

Nothing made Hugo happier than getting the opportunity to introduce himself to a new professor at Malverice. It was an appropriate excuse to list his many outstanding achievements without seeming boastful. Not that being cocky was his intention so much as wishing for what respect he deserved.

The woman watched his hand with a significant smile, her teeth white as pearls.

“Good to meet you.” She said, wide and cheerful eyes doing a quick head-to-toe intake of Hugo before she turned on her dress-shoe heel and began towards the nearest stairwell. 

“This way. I will take you to my classroom.”

Hugo stood staring with his hand still outstretched. He chuckled awkwardly, sliding the uneasy hand through his hair before dashing after the woman who was already halfway up the stairwell. 

“So what type of art do you do, Miss…?” Hugo inquired, cramming the flier he held into his trouser pocket. 

“I like art,” The woman said, her smooth-as-river-stones voice spoken with a song-like fashion. “I enjoy paints, pencils, and clay. And red paint is always acceptable to the eye.” 

The woman continued up the staircase, her hands clasped before her apron, her pace leisurely. 

“Do you like art?” She asked, her sharp face looking down upon Hugo as he attempted to reach the stair she’d managed to achieve so quickly.

“I suppose,” He replied, huffing shallowly. “I’ll admit I’m primarily here for the payment rather than the chance to make my debut in modeling.”

The woman’s sweet smile fell slowly, her brows becoming furrowed as she turned back to the staircase. 

“You should like art more. It changes you. You can make it into anything you want.” Hugo frowned, glancing back to where they’d come from. The rain had become loud and ferocious to the point he could hardly hear himself think.

As he turned his head back to make a reply, he nearly fell back for a second time.

The woman had made it to the top of the stairwell and was now crouched down to the floor, knees hugged close to her chest, her fair face carved with what looked to be impatience. 

“What are you doing?” Hugo frowned curiously, abrupt pressure collecting in his stomach as the unnerving sight overtook him. 

“Waiting. You are too slow.” She said, setting her rather lengthy hands to the floor and pushing herself up in the way many young toddlers do. First, the hands, then knees, one foot, and then the other, until she was standing upright and casually returning to an amble walk through the school. 

Hugo’s brows dipped low in question. She was very odd, yes, but she had been hired by the school, which was one of the most prestigious academies in all of the state. 

Still, once the day was done, he would see to it that the journalism club would begin conducting research on her background. That was for certain. 

At last, the classroom in question came into sight. Its door was littered with fliers, much like the one Hugo had received for the modeling opportunity, except these had names written along the side with a single check mark following. It seems as though he wasn’t the first to take the job.

“After you.” The woman gave him a pleasant smile and gestured for him to enter the room. 

He did and instantly took to inspecting the space.

It was absolutely buried in sculptures: gray, black, gold, and beige, all in various poses and stances. And every one was delicately designed and posted in the room so that they all complimented the next like a cohesive puzzle. If you were to look from a bird’s eye view, he was sure it’d look like one perfect painting with only a handful of barren spaces for future work. 

“Miss, this is incredible!” Hugo had to admit the impressiveness as he further entered the room to inspect the pieces of work more closely.

The attention to reflect realism was so very precise, and at last, the woman’s comment about red being such a tasteful color made sense. With each beautiful ornament, one could see how the lady had carefully brushed stunning velvet-colored powder in every crease and furrow in the stone, acting as shadow and contouring of the skin.

Hugo smiled wide. Was he going to be the latest piece of this collection? Would his face be the next gorgeous product of the woman’s artistic hands?

He’d never been so excited to complete a job; he may not even accept the payment she offered him.

“I’m very excited to make you into one of these as well,” The woman’s voice sang from somewhere within the maze of sculptures.

“I must say I’m looking forward to it!” Hugo grinned, resting a hand on the nearest art piece to feel the rough stone.

“Where should we begin?” She asked from somewhere.

“How about my face?” Hugo smiled, clasping readied hands together in glee. “Yes, I think my face is a good place to begin. What do you say?” 

“Couldn’t agree more.” The woman at last came into sight down the corridor of statues to his left. 

“Good! Let’s begin right away.” Hugo sighed proudly and crossed his arms before his chest. 

“Lets.” The woman smiled, gray eyes glistening with utter bliss.

     *November 2nd 2024* 

Sun bloomed between the pleasant clouds overlooking Malverice Learning Center.

It was a warm afternoon, and her students were finally filtering through the narrow doorway of her literature class, one by one entering the space and going about their way to find the most adequate of seating options. 

“Hurry, students!” She called, gesturing for them to quicken their pleasant paces and settle down. 

“I’m glad you all made it this morning because we have a very exciting announcement!” She said with wide outstretched hands, luminous red hair rolling past her shoulders.

“The art club has finally reopened their application opportunity for students to model for them! This hasn’t happened in quite some time, so let’s give them a huge round of applause!” 

The room erupted with cheers and enthusiastic chatter.

The adolescents always looked forward to the opportunity to make their faces permanent. It was thrilling to picture the idea of going down in time as a stone figure the art club chose as their representative model. 

He should know. He’d been the same way and paid for it by sitting upon the classroom’s shelf as no more than a concrete bust for decades. Forced to spectate as each time the ‘art club’ reopened their submissions, kids began to go missing. He had to watch his creator, in her red crown of glory, smile at her future prey under the guise of a modest school teacher.

So Hugo Reymond remains on the classroom’s shelves forevermore, stone-glazed eyes keeping watch over every student who roams past the classroom doors as he so foolishly did many years ago.