The Golden Horologium

Being different is not a choice, it's fate. Jetta Rowe was born to be different whether she likes it or not, and sooner or later, she will have to admit that no one can run from their destiny.

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2. Timos School of General and Demoncentral Education

          The Timos School of General and Demoncentral Education was a huge building in the heart of the village, if not the biggest. It was compulsory for every child who lived in Timos and was between the age of 5 and 18 to attend. Being an especially rainy Monday morning, school was definitely not on the list of the most enjoyable things for any of the students, but only the little girl running breathlessly through the dead corridors could know it for sure that it wasn't going to be a good day.

          She was panting heavily as she stopped in front of a door that read Room T4, Global Studies in a dull, greyish colour. She gathered all of her courage, knocked on the wooden door and stepped into the classroom with her most regretful expression on. Twenty-four faces turned to her direction from the desks and one remarkibly more serious from the podium. The global studies teacher was a forty something, grizzled woman called Mrs Paxon, no one had ever liked her. At the moment, she was in the middle of a story, and even though her lips run into a forced smile at the sight of the girl, her eyes could kill. 

          "Ah, Miss Rowe, where have you been for this long?" she was looking at her ancient wristwatch with an expression that suggested that the girl was late for a whole lesson and not just 10 minutes. 

          "I slept in," said the small girl quietly, knowing very well that she had already used the same excuse seven times just in this month. For a moment, the teacher held her gaze tightly, assumingly thinking about a good, well-deserved punishment, but in the end she only scribbled something in her ancient-looking notebook before dismissing the small girl with a wave of her bony hand. 

          "Shall we get back to the lesson then?"

          Jetta Rowe slipped into the last empty desk queitly, took her books out and put her most interested expression on. 

          "So, as I have already mentioned, the rivalry between the demons has a a clearly noticeable impact on our lives as well. In those years when the power is in the hands of bonums, it is more likely that people will choose their bonums, whereas people usually choose their vapiduses when the black demons are in charge. How many of you have already celebrated your tenth birthday? Come on, hands up!" 

          Five-six uncertain hands arised. Mrs Paxon kept going. 

          "Great, great. There is a bit more than ten years left from the time of the bonums, so the six of you are going to decide during this time. It is more than likely that you will all choose your bonums, but this is not a fact, of course. Well, let's move on!"

          Jetta turned her head from the teacher. She had always been interested in these things and definitely liked the global studies lessons, but Mrs Paxon's monotonous, boring speeches could never keep her inquiring. She glanced around the room. Her classmates were sitting with undeniable boredom on their faces, a boy had fallen asleep in the last row, three girls were talking in a whisper and the class's two worst boys were laughing their heads off at something. Some demons were sitting next to their owners; the unbelievably dull speech took their vim away as well. Suddenly, Jetta felt a small waft at her chest and a minute later, her vapidus was out next to her.

          Every person had their demons living in their souls, possessing the right to decide whether they wanted to come out or not. Sure enough, the school had lots of classes discussing demons and anything that mattered in connection with them, and lessons on how to call them out or hold them inside were no exceptions. Thus, over the years, a kind of abstinence became a part of people's lives. With a good amount of practicing, one could call their demons out even if they preferred to stay inside and hold them back when everything they wanted was to come out.

          Of course, the fifth grade's nine and ten year old students didn't have this knowledge just yet, therefore they were always under the risk of demons coming out whenever they wished. Accidents, as teachers liked to call them, were rare in the school, for during school hours the bonums tried to preoccupy vapiduses. Sure enough, there were always exceptions, because who would have preoccupied Jetta Rowe's bad-to-the-bone vapidus? And before she could say a word, her book swang to the air, and followed by the girl's frightened gaze, it hit Mrs Paxon on her nape. As the effect of the hit, and against her will, she could taste the chalk from the black board before collapsing onto the ground. 

          One half of the class - the boys - tried to fight down the urge to laugh until their stomach would hurt, whereas the other half - the girls - ran to the teacher, yammering. As Mrs Paxon looked up, her eyes were burning with loathing, but the only one she saw was Jetta, sitting in her desk, pale as death. Her only demon vanished as suddenly as he had come, as though he had never been out. 

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