Compass

Shanzina Merxado

I opened my hand, a cold and rounded metal item resting on my palm, attached to a small, silver chain. Upon further inspection and pressing the button on the side, I found my reflection on the surface of what was a compass. I checked the cover, the shape of a bird’s head molded into it. The inside was less than normal, not having one, but two arrows, which pointed to two of the four letters in it, N and W.

That’s a first.

The second arrow, however, had a different shape as well as color, and dangled downwards when I tilted the compass in a test. Then I realized, it must not have been in the original making of the compass. Why would the headmistress give me this clock of a compass?

If that wasn’t what it was, what even is it?

There was a beat after that thought before a thud startled me, followed by a series of patting on what sounded to be a rug. The second arrow spun wildly for a few moments, before sharply stopping at the point of north-west.