2040"Hello Sheltiel, what's up man? What's happening, what's all this rubble? "Dude Mr. Shanamon is dead.""Shanamon? Which Shanamon? Shanamon the bald one? I wanna know which Shana…. ""The Shanamon, the one we all know, the school principal is dead," Shel said in one breath. "What? You're kidding me! What do you mean by he's dead, what exactly… ""You've got eyes, don't you?"Skid was caught off guard by this question… "Yeah… so…?""Then use it. You can't see the rubble in front of you? Where's our School administrative building, your father's snake gobbled it right?. Sheltiel started blowing off some steam. "Man just damn it okay? Just damn all those kiddy questions of yours okay? I'm off. ""Come Shel, where are you going? " Skid ran to catch up. "To the cafeteria, don't bother asking, I'm not buying you lunch" he waved his hands. "O..Okay" Skid stammered back. ...At the Cafeteria"Man… see the news" Skid pointed to the flat-screen Samsung Television on the Cafeteria wall.

2016Tom was a boy who loved his computer desk and classroom desk more than anything. You can say he is a lover of desks. Often, you'll see him in his classroom head down and peering over large folds of books. He has the habit of always leaning on his desk, then reading from his books placed on his laps. Sometimes, you'll wonder why desks were made in the first place; probably for a headrest. Back to Tom, Tom was a totally lovable boy, always gleaming with his jade white teeth set like almonds on his bountiful cheeks. He was always giggling whenever you see him on one of the rare occasions where he will appear on the playground. The most beautiful part of Tom's personality is that he is the guru-kind of guy, expansive knowledge in that his brain is hidden by his onion-ball-cut hair, and bubbly. The air bubbles whenever he is present. Tom loves some particular types of books; magic books. He's always intrigued and eager to know more whenever he picks a book on magic. He wonders why

Tom woke up with a start! 'What a dream, no, not a dream, I traaa..veel…, no what am I saying, shit, what's the time? Seven forty-five, what the… 'He dropped off from the bed, 'mum must have been calling, school, oh forget that, what was it about last night? ''Dulce, Dulce Mexico. What's Dulce doing in my dream? Shintiel or what? No, not right, Shel.. Shel.. Shelton..no, ouch my head hurt... Sheltiel yes! That's the name but I don't even know who he is. What the he…''Yes mummy am coming down ''School day, no, I have to rush back to the library, I need to understand what that book told me, the thing is getting my head jumbled up. Oh, what? ''You are going back to a book that plays with your head son? Why do you do this to yourself? You… ''Enough! Stop talking to me you Billy goat. You're at it again, you are in my head, how did you even get there? ''Am going to show you places you have never seen before, I will make you know what none of your predecessors ever knew, I will bar

Tom was very worried, there's no how, he can crack this clue all by himself, he has reached his limit and what he can make out from the words was next to nonsense. 'Who can I enlist his help?' Tom thought, no one came to mind. He has no true friend in the school he can run to, nor one in the neighborhood. 'Okay there's a boy I talked to the other day in the city library, he's always coming to the library and seems like the intelligent type to me ' he thought. 'but no, the boy will get curious and what if he's more intelligent than me or also has a high affinity towards this kind of riddles, I will be running at risk of losing everything. No, I won't meet him, but who else? ' Tom was running down in his mental reserve. 'I will have to go to school again tomorrow to know if by chance I can find a way to scale through this hurdle even if it's an improvement or clue, it's something. O this is school I'm school and I'm planning on going to school tomorrow, when I'm already in school, surel

Newspapers were ruffling, books turned with furious intensity. The phone light kept on shining with intermittent beeps of pim pim pim pim. Someone was donning a glass which he takes on and off at intervals peering over the spread books splattered all over his desk one after the other. Small rivulets flowed down his cheeks to the rivers created by his steaming sweat. The ball tip and the butt of the pen bore all the punishments from his gnashing teeth. The atmosphere was literally bubbling with the sweetest simulation of the struggles of man and the distress of childbirth before the cheers. The rickety-crickety old table and chair bore the brunt of this epic moment in mankind's history with silent constraint and squeakers of complaints. The pitch huey darkness provides the best light background to this epic drama of the wars of heaven. The soul of man triveth to learn, to challenge, to conquer, and rule all that appeals to his consciousness. The cosmos plays with us the game of the m