by Jon Pelletier

Created on: October 05, 2010

So our hero smiled at a list of choices that lay in front of him. His maids would approve when they were around. Though through all courses of heaven the writer stopped to think a moment. I know that the brief history of a young man in private school would never become a masterpiece.

A writer would need some fanciful qualities that would lead a reader to believe that this is fiction, including magical ghouls and goblins and the like. For he is our hero, and Richard Channing wanted to believe in ghosts even though they scared him. It was at this moment that Richard realized he stood on the curb. The driver had been holding the door a full minute.

Richard’s mind was in a silent moment of glee. He could not wait to be lying in a room at her summer home. When he came to the front gate of his dormitory, our hero watched a tiny black speck in his eye. It used to crawl around his walls. One time he asked a philosophy professor about this phenomenon.

The teacher asked which building he was in before saying that speck on the wall was not to be trusted. The myth was the spot took its name from the building he was in. They called it “the Toad of Toadsmere Hall.” It was a friendly name, but the larger group doubted their sincerity, though his teacher gave Richard a wink and a nudge.

So when he arrived he acknowledged to himself that he had developed a relationship with this toad. The little black creature would run up the wall and across the ceiling until it was in a position that a human being would fall. It came with a song or a dance once in a while. The song was impossible to sing though it only had one line. The repetition came from the tapping, “Mr. Toad from the Toadsmere hall.”

The little black speck positioned itself on top of Richard Channing hovering as if to poison the very air around him. That was the moment our hero was sure that he had a path. His dreams would come to fruition.

He told the toad, “This will only get my ball rolling, kid. The spearing is not yours, so I will avoid.” He reached towards the hallucination and felt his hand go inside. And Richard was a man.

As the Toad danced in his mind our hero knew this was his demon requested. Otherwise how could a story about swinging a knife lead to such a groundbreaking event in a young man’s life? All those who had protested his advances could not have had the moment these two dear friends just had.

They shared a laugh as they consider men blind from

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