Chapter Twelve

Students began to stream into the class and Gabriel gestured to the seats. Lucianne nodded and took a seat at the first row, her purple copy of Lord Malice on the table. Within more minutes, most of the students were already seated and Gabriel began class.

"Who here has read Lord Malice?" he asked everyone. A few hands, including hers, rose. "For those of you who haven't, let me tell you what happens. It is a story written in poems.

"Lord Malice was a normal man. Born of the middle class, he lived a comfortable life but not so comfortable that he did not yearn for better times. One night, he was leaving a bar when he came across a mysterious box-like object near the trash.

"The box was triangular in shape, and written all over it were scripts of ancient origin. It looked somewhat fearsome, and he thought it would fetch him a good price if he sold it. So he went home with it. When he reached home, he removed his books and translated the script on the box. He discovered that it was a wishing box, something that granted him wishes in return for something else.

"Thinking it was most likely a silly prank, he whispered to the wishing box, asking it for all the money he could ever want. The next morning, he awoke to the news that a long lost half-brother of his had left a sizable inheritance to him. He was now rich. He spent the days in reckless living, until the day where the wishing box claimed its price. While he was outside, his home caught on fire and all his family died. He was wealthy beyond imagination, but the cost for that was that he would not have anyone he loved to spend the money with.

"Depressed, he made another wish. He asked for fame, so that he could have friends to spend his money with. But the cost for that was all the money he had, and when he lost it, he thought it was a fair trade, until his fame had spread to notoriety. He was vilified by the public for being the arsonist behind his family's death.

"Furious, he made yet another wish. He asked for immortality this time. If he could not have friends, he would live for himself, and live forever. The wishing box granted him his wish, but in return took away his ability to move. He spent the rest of his life, immobile, only able to move his lips to make more wishes.

"And even though he had been reduced to this state, he continued making more wishes. He wished for the ant beside him to find food soon, he wished for a second to be added to the clock, he wished for the oceans to evaporate, for the sun to rise. He couldn't stop making wishes, and finally, he disintegrated into dust. As dust, he soon became one with the wind and to this day, whenever it passes by, we hear wailing, the sound of him making only one more wish."

"Is he stupid or what?" a student said aloud.

"Why do you think Lord Malice is unable to give up making wishes?"

Lucianne raised a hand.

"Lucianne?" Gabriel said.

"Not everything has to make sense. Sometimes you yearn for the best, but you fall among the dirt. You don't know what the future holds, and it controls you. It is your master, and you are powerless against it.

"But when you have been mastered by fate and have lost everything to it, it develops a sudden ethereal beauty to it. You can't look away, because in its fleeting life you see what you once had. It scares you but you're obsessed.

"Lord Malice is all about the finality of regret and loving that which you fear," Lucianne said.

Gabriel stared into her eyes, the features of his face expressionless. His body was frozen where he stood, but his shoulders were rising and falling unevenly. There was an untold depth stirring behind his eyes, a rage that could not be calmed.

"That doesn't make any sense," another student said.

"I beg to differ," Gabriel said. "Lucianne, that was truly sublime."