Where Magic Awakens Darkness in Canterlot High

Computer Sciences; a class that wasn’t all it seemed to be. William had eyes rolling, while explaining his conundrum to his teacher, a middle aged man who seemed to have a dark sapphire color to his hair who seemed to have a decent attitude towards him, earned him an excuse with no tardy marked resulted nicely, the ‘state of the art computers’ Canterlot High had gotten were weak, almost non-functional. Few of the aware students seemed to have gotten their own machines, ranging from Cougar laptop with expanded drives, to Enovo laptops with incredible retina display and blazing speed. William’s was a prize all in its own.

Housing an overload-bearing processor, one that was yanked from a crapped prototype computer from a landfill, along with modified RAM sticks that gave the laptop six gigabytes to use for keeping applications under control and dumping data with little to no problems, an anti-static control heat sink to reduce any circuit friction, and the custom built plastic case and a back ordered twenty-forty-eight by eight-fifty-eight resolution capable screen, and simply named his computer Entity, which was printed in the lower-right corner of the plastic, in transparent plastic letters emblazed for a tech-head style. This beast was almost nineteen and a half inches in width, and ten inches in length. It was extremely sleek as well, and the whole reason he had that backpack for such a build.

Eyes had drawn themselves to his machine, even sparking a question from his teacher. Some in the back, buff males with short haircuts had begun to whisper ‘rich idiot,’ and much of the likeness to idiocy or not knowing how to use his machine. He had done the complete opposite and mastered it, but said nothing. Per say, it was a decent class, but the sciences weren’t really explained, and because of that it seemed more like a basic tutorial for using professional programs instead of a computing and programming class like he had expected.

Briiiiiiiing! The bell had tolled, and computers were closed, many shutting them down but the two who didn’t seemed to be in a rush, simply closing their programs and closing the PCs they had used. William rose, walking to the door behind the massive, fleeting crowd, attempting to make an exit without making any sort of contact.

With little to no hesitation, William had begun to use the little time he had to locate his assigned locker. This was located a decent ways away, fifty feet past the current wing, heading to the English academics wing. Grabbing the paper the locker number was on, he double checked, and took down the respective combination: 36-54-47.  After a few tries, William looked inside his locker, although a tiny ten inch by twelve inch locker, managed to house that protective bag of his, only grabbing a notebook and some mechanical pencils as he looked at the clock located above the cafeteria entrance. Ten o’ clock was the current time, and he slammed his locker shut as his eyes took note of that in a single second, turning to look for the Advanced Writing class, which would have another male, Mr. Berrow, leading the class.

Taking a few steps past a door, a hand could be felt tapping its finger along on top of William’s shoulder, sparking a hasty turn around, almost in defense instead of the will to greet the person tapping his shoulder. Almost as instantly as the tap that landed, a female could be seen leaning back a bit, her waist up outside of a classroom threshold. The girl seemed to have pink hair, but lighter than that of the two he encountered earlier this morning: the name Mrs. Cake bringing the hair to his mind, as he stood straight up, the girl seemingly smiled, even after the reaction William had given.

“Hello, uh…” This girl seemed to be reluctantly shy, maybe an emotional problem, or possibly in a bit of trouble at the moment, but William was trying not to assume. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen you around here. I-I’m Fluttershy.” The tone seemed soft, almost as if clouds turned into sound. This was something William tried not to remind himself of.

“Hello, I guess. It’s nice to meet you, Fluttershy.” William seemed a bit unwilling to talk as Fluttershy nodded.

“What’s your name?” Fluttershy asked.

William seemed to shake his head. “William. Look, I’m about to be late, and I cannot figure out which class is Mr. Berrows. Now,” Fluttershy stopped him mid-sentence, a thing he hated, or almost despised.

“This room here, this is Mr. Berrows room. I’m here for advanced writing since I had gotten it recommended for my classes this quarter.”

Fluttershy stated as she went inside, almost happily. This was not good for William. He did not need to make any more friends. He already had an acquaintance, one he had met by sheer accidental circumstances of the mind.

Reluctantly striding inside, William was greeted by Mr. Berrows with a hand shake, the brown hair seemingly normal. There’d have to be some string somewhere. The voice was deep, but young, as a simple point of his finger to the middle seat of the row closest to the door seemed to give a decent impression of where he had to go.

“Take a seat, you’ll have a small test today, but you do not have to take it if you aren’t familiar with a lot of writing.” As Mr. Berrows said this, Fluttershy offered a wave as he sat down, along with a few others, including a blue haired girl who had purple shades and a white coat, a boy with yet more blue hair, but this seemed to be toned in a darker manner, and following that was a girl with bright sky-blue hair, all waving to him in minor enthusiasm. He paid no attention, not wanting any more conversation.

“Now class,” Mr. Berrows started, “Today we will be testing how much you’ve grown to be mature in writing, now I want you all to create a poem, any kind, whether it be free verse or linked phrases, I’ll welcome it. Now I will give you all thirty minutes to create your best piece, and they will be read with names hidden, so without further ado, I will let you all have a go to make me proud of your skills.” And with that, Mr. Berrows walked over to his desk, tapping a key on his keyboard as a beep sounded.

With that, every student, including William, decided to begin on the assignment before it was too late to think of anything. Countless pencils scribbling, numerous hands moving, and all fingers clutching as words were being thrown onto paper. All eyes were moving, along their own papers, poetry formed in mere seconds in the minds were not being put into paper. The silence of such a classroom seemed ominous, almost foreboding for even a sick person to cough in, the only sound made being scribbling, and with such fury in the writing, only a few seemed done early. The purple-shade girl had finished early, taking her sheet up to the desk as another followed, a purple-haired girl, but with a bright face. Next followed Fluttershy, and a countless slew of others, much like a female with dirty-blonde hair, a male with white hair, another male with black hair, and another with what seemed to be dark, red hair. However, after seeing them and examining each of them, William seemed to begin to have a small realization: Each of these people, here, and outside this room, has their own mark, an individual characteristic that defines them in their own mass horde. Within the little time William had left, he decided to work in the poem, building soft ideas and making it into a collection of words that could cut deep if understood. With him being the last, he slid his paper slowly to Mr. Berrows as he returned to his seat silently.

“Alright, is that everyone? Nobody still working?” Mr. Berrows asked as he shuffled the papers. Nobody in the entire room had moved, instead sitting back and waiting as the students looked around, and then back to the front of the room as Mr. Berrows stood up, holding the papers as he leaned against the white board. “Shall I begin?” Each and every singly response given was a nod, with the exception of William as he simply watched, placing a knuckle to his lips. As the teacher began, he held up a single page, he cleared his throat. “This one is entitled ‘Honor by Choice’.”

As Mr. Berrows read this, everyone seemed to look to soarin, who was known to value honor above all else. Next was a poem titled ‘To Wub or Not to Wub.’ The obvious student who sent that in, Vinyl Scratch, or better known as DJ Pon3, was immediately recognized. After that, a poem simply about the beauty and grace of animals, even those that bring harm. All eyes went to Fluttershy on this one. But however, as Mr. Berrows began to recite words William knew specifically because it was his work, William began to break a single, nervous sweat; a cold one. However, luck rang in in the sound of the bell.

Briiiiiiing! Once again, William was saved by the bell. However, he didn’t bother to get up, but instead examined each of the fellow pupils as they left, taking notes of various marks: From the basic music symbol, to the three butterflies, to three diamonds, to a lightning bolt with wings, to a simple harp. Each and every one of them seemed to be identified by a mark instead of their own socialist, trend-following selves. Or maybe this place was a haven William had imagined. However, seeing the last person leave made him snap back into reality, his legs bucking against the ground as he shot up from his chair in a split second, grabbing his stack of papers as he rushed out of the door quickly, returning to his locker as he sighed, trying to bide for time, his mind trying to tell him something after his realization. However, another tap was felt as he groaned, turning around wearily.

“Yes, what is it?” William asked this as he finished turning slowly, facing a girl with purple hair, who was smiling.

“I’m terribly sorry if I’m bothering you, uh, William, right?” This girl sounded as if she had the prominent accent of a city child, or somewhere along that line. William nodded as he raised a brow. “Fluttershy told me about you. We haven’t had many new students, so I would like to welcome you as well. I’m Rarity.”

“Yeah, well, can I have a minute alone? I really do hate to be rude,” however, Rarity interrupted, tipping his scales to the angered just a bit more.

“Well, just please let me say if you have any important questions about the people here in general, just ask my friend Sunset Shimmer, I’ll introduce you tw-”

“Listen, I don’t need introductions, I don’t need friends, now just leave me alone!” William barked this, almost seeming flared, peeved even, as he slammed his locker door, bending his legs and almost rearing his fist back as he tried not to hit her. But almost as he did, he immediately calmed himself, standing straight up as he turned to immediately walk away, Rarity’s shocked face and horrified stance almost guiltily tripping him. However, he suddenly held his head, taking a turn trying to find the bathroom; this wasn't like him at all, snapping over nothing. He didn't know what had just happened.

As William frantically walked through the hallways, sweat dropping and what seemed to be his jugular vein popping up, he began to trip, bumping into others, males, females, and almost a few teachers. His vision seemed to spin, his head seeming like it was floating, and his heart racing. He had felt this before, fear and adrenaline rushing, but for what? He only had this happen rarely, two times in his previous location, but however, he was struggling to stand up now. As the crowd around him thickened, his escape from the scene he created seemed impossible as he fell down, head impacting the cold floor first, the back of his skull hurting as he went out cold.

As countless people seemed to gasp in wonder and horror, Nurse Tenderheart began to run through, followed by two staff with a stretcher. As an extremely bulk male, whos shirt said ‘Bulk Biceps’, who had extremely short hair, lifted William on the stretcher with the help of Assistant Principal Luna, Nurse Tenderheart began to clear a way as they rushed William to the Nurse’s Office in a hurry, sparing no time except to make sure William was still alright.