The Chalk Man

by C.J. Tudor

If our world was a snow globe, it was the day some casual god came along, shook it hard and set it back down again. Even when the foam and flakes had settled, things weren’t the way they were before. Not exactly.

It’s a sad fact that beauty, real beauty, just eclipses everything and everyone around it.

Many of the kids I teach at Anderbury Academy are what we call “challenging.” In my day, they would have been called “a bunch of little shits.”

(I had started to notice how careless people were; like they didn’t realize how important it was to hold on to things or they could be gone forever.)

There are some things in life you can alter—your weight, your appearance, even your name—but there are others that wishing and trying and working hard can never make any difference to. Those things are the ones that shape us. Not the things we can change, but the ones we can’t.

Well, I’ve decided it’s time to look all that fear and guilt in the eye and deal with it.” Personally, I have found that it is much better to take your fears, lock them up in a nice, tightly shut box and shove them into the deepest, darkest corner of your mind. But each to their own.

I wait for the significance of this to dawn. Moss grows around my feet. Glaciers form and melt. “I’m sorry,” he says eventually. “I don’t understand.”

“It’ll be all right,” I told him, which was a stupid thing to say, because it wasn’t going to be. It was going to be about as far from all right as it could be.

There’s nothing like dealing with a drunk to put you off the idea of getting wasted yourself.

She smiles. “Good. Because I would never do anything to hurt you. I want you to know that.” “I know,” I say, even though I don’t. Not really. People can hurt you without even realizing they’re doing it. Chloe hurts me a little bit every day just by existing. And that’s okay.

“Well, all those years with no contact, then a visit out of the blue. It’s a bit strange.” “People are strange, as Jim Morrison might say.” They look at me blankly. Not classic rock fans.

That seems to be the way with religion. Murder, rape, kill and maim, but all will be forgiven as long as you repent. Never seemed entirely fair to me. But then God, like life, is not fair.

She seems nice enough, for a vicar. She smiles. “Did you find what you need?” Maybe the church has become more like a shopping center than I realized. Sadly, my basket remains empty. “Not yet,” I say.

There are some girls mums will never like, and of course they are exactly the sort of girls you will always fall head over heels in love with.

The thing you have to understand is that being a good person isn’t about singing hymns, or praying to some mythical god. It isn’t about wearing a cross or going to church every Sunday. Being a good person is about how you treat others. A good person doesn’t need a religion, because they are content within themselves that they are doing the right thing.”

We ask questions that we hope will give us the truth we want to hear. The problem is, you can’t choose your truths. Truth has a habit of simply being the truth. The only real choice you have is whether to believe it or not.

Gav says, “You’re the only person who knows, Ed.” “I won’t say anything.” “I know.” He sighs. “Have you ever done anything so bad you can’t tell even your closest friends?”

BEING AN ADULT is only an illusion. When it comes down to it I’m not sure any of us ever really grow up. We simply grow taller and hairier.

That’s the thing with adults. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you say; they only hear what they want to hear.

I guess, in real life, there are no happy endings, just messy, complicated ones.

It was almost like people wanted to forget her. Like remembering she was a real person who died spoiled the story.

Kids, from the moment they’re born, they fill your heart with love…and terror. Especially little girls. You want to protect them from everything.