Root of the Madness: Malachi's Story

Disclaimer: I do not own Stephen King’s Children of the Corn. God, though, I wish I owned Malachi. MmmmMM! That kid is psycho, but FINE!

Yes, this is a Malachi fic. (? Is infatuated with him). I don’t have access to a fanfiction.net right now, so I don’t know how original this idea is. Forgive me if it’s been done to death but I simply NEEDED to get this idea out onto paper.

I’m also going on a lot of assumptions in the story which, if corrected, will be dealt with in the writing.
1) Assuming that Malachi was nearing his either 18th or 19th year in the “Current” setting of the movie.
2) Due to assumption 1, I will also be assuming that the three years before Children of the Corn took place, Malachi was 15 or 16.
3) This story takes place four years ago, so Malachi is assumable in what would be his freshman sophomore year of high school and is either 14 or 15.

(Insert borderline here)

No one trusted the new adult. He was the new English teacher. He was smart, articulate, and a ton of fun, all of the kids wanted to be in his class. Despite the children’s begging, however, the grown-ups fought against this new teacher being around their kids. There was a secret in this man’s past. Only bits and chunks of the puzzle were known and no one could put all of the pieces together. They were too obscure, blurred by rumors that some believed and some dismissed. Why would they have reason not to trust this man? He was an educated 33 year-old man from the city. He knew more than most of the adults, that is to say nothing of how easily he earned the affection on his students. It was then that the town of Gatlin became divided. Half of the adults wanted to expel the new teacher for fear of the rumors, the other half dismissing all worry.

It was only the children who didn’t fight.

In the Gatlin public school system, all grades filed into a single building, K-12. The new teacher was teaching the ninth grade students, each of them eager to being their first step towards harder and more challenging classes. One especially eager youth, a 15 year-old redhead by the name of Malachi, nearly ran into class the first day that school was back in session. Malachi was a known competitive learner to the other teachers, always striving to be the best in his class. It was almost startling the way he pushed himself, reading tens of pages of a textbook every night just to have a jump ahead of his other classmates. He studied hard, worked hard, and even played hard. He could not stand to be beaten in gym class. Of course, this raised some worry from his teachers and principles. Some speculated that it was the parents pushing him too hard to be successful. Some thought that the boy was psychologically disturbed. There was no proof, however, and as soon as Malachi was put under the light for questioning he took on the role of an ordinary kid who was just trying to do his best.

And so he would be escorted out of the office and back to class. Malachi was determined that no one was to figure out the true story behind some of his viciousness. He tried to keep it in check, but couldn’t allow for anyone to keep him from being the best. Being the best meant a better chance of getting out of Gatlin, moving on to bigger and better things. He wouldn’t let anyone steal that chance from him. No one.

But, he was now setting himself into one of the seats in the front row, a better vantage point to see the chalkboard and to hear this renowned teacher speak. He had heard so many stories from older classmates who had been sitting in this seat before him. From what he had been told, the man was a genius! He knew this new teacher came from the city. The same city, in fact, that Malachi planned on running away to once he had graduated with the honors he deserved. He was simply aching to ask all of the questions he had. What was it like in this city? What were the people like? Did this man think Malachi could make it? Did Malachi have what it took? So many questions poured into his mind when the teacher walked in the door, instantly capturing the younger boy’s attention.

He was tall, dark, and handsome, if one wanted to use just three basic adjectives. Malachi, however, came up with a myriad of ways to describe this older professor. The man had short, curly hair that was a black as sin itself. His eyes were a cobalt shade of blue, shining in the morning light and scanning over the classroom. Malachi stared intently at those eyes. They were the most magnificent eyes he had ever seen. They looked so kind, almost like a woman’s eyes. It was that day that Malachi became fascinated by this stranger, captivated almost.

“Good morning class,” the new teacher said warmly. He stood in front of his desk, leaning back slightly. One could see his broad chest stretched with a breath under the neat dress-shirt and suit jacket he wore. He didn’t wear a tie though, which set him apart from the other teachers.

“Good morning Mr. Marshal,” the class answered back, Malachi ending the greeting with a youthful grin. The older man smiled back charmingly, making sure to at least attempt eye contact with every student. Several girls in the class giggled and hid their blushing cheeks. When Mr. Marshal’s eyes found Malachi’s, however, the boy smiled back as if to say, “I am not as pathetic as to fawn like those girls”. He could hold himself better than them, prove to this teacher that he was far more mature than the others and set himself apart almost immediately. He would be this man’s favorite.

“Now, I don’t know how your previous English teachers dealt with the material, but you all will be required to read in order to pass this class.” There was a myriad of groans from the class, no one really fond of the idea of having to read anything. Malachi grinned. He didn’t groan. “You will also be required to discuss what you have read in class. Take notes as you read if you have to, but be prepared to come under fire the next day.” Another serious of groans which Malachi was not a part of. He merely smiled. Mr. Marshal smiled at the reactions. He knew these kids wouldn’t be too terribly pleased with how he ran his course, but they would nonetheless be required to do as he’d asked.

The rest of the class was spent going over what Mr. Marshal would and would not allow in his classroom. At the top were bullying, whining, and failure to complete assignments, the last of which made Malachi glow on the inside. He always got his work done and so Mr. Marshal had nothing to fear from him. All too soon the bell rang and many of the students filed out, almost fleeing before the teacher could even finish a sentence. It was only Malachi who waited until Mr. Marshal verbally dismissed him.

“You’re free to go…” He was searching for a name. Assist him, Malachi.

“Malachi, sir,” he replied politely, gathering his books and heading toward the door. “Welcome to Gatlin, Mr. Marshal,” he added in passing. “It’s going to be a good year.” Mr. Marshal smiled up at him as charmingly as ever, blue eyes twinkling with delight.

“I noticed you were the only one who didn’t moan and groan when I said you would have reading to do, Malachi.” The redhead smiled.

“I don’t mind a little reading, Mr. Marshal,” he said confidently, head held high. “I read at least five pages before bed every night.” The older man arched a fine black eyebrow.

“Is that so? What do you read?” By this time, Mr. Marshal had taken his seat behind his desk, arms folded on the wood furniture.

“Books that no one seems to care for anymore. King Henry, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet.” Mr. Marshal chuckled lowly.

“A fan of the classics. Me too.” He rummaged through a bag he had close to his desk, emerging not long after with a thick leather-bound book. “Perhaps you might enjoy this, then.” He handed the book to Malachi with a smile, the freckled boy happily excepting the gift. On the front cover in big golden letters were the words “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens. Malachi lit up as he read the words out loud.

“What is it about?”, he asked excitedly.

“You’ll have to read to find out,” Mr. Marshal replied. “I expect it back in good condition, as well.”

“Yes! Of course, sir!”, Malachi assured him. He would not let the book out of his sight, keep it near to him at all times.

“And when you’ve finished, perhaps we can discuss it.” Malachi nodded.

“I’d like that,” he added. Then came the second bell, alerting to all that if you weren’t in your next class by now then you were late. Malachi immediately got a look of panic on his young face. He had never been late, never! Mr. Marshal saw the look on the young boys face and smiled.

“Don’t worry, Malachi,” he said calmly. “I’ll walk you to your next class and explain things to your teacher.” He got up from behind his desk, making his way over to Malachi and urging him out the door with a hand on his back. Malachi followed without hesitation, praying to God that his next teacher would buy Mr. Marshal’s excuse.
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It begins…