Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

 The truck pulled up to the coordinates, just a slight hint of the sun peeking through the top of the forest canopy lighting the surroundings. Fernando had travelled 837 miles, even hitchhiking the last leg of the trip when the GPS lost service around Island Pond. Hopping down out of the truck, the stout truck driver handed Fernando’s backpack to him, a concerned look on his face. “Son, are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off? There isn’t any cell service for miles, and the closest town is almost 10 miles from here. No one is gonna know you’re out here…” Fernando smiled, tossing the bag over his bony shoulder. “Yes, sir. Thank you, this is exactly where I need to be. I appreciate the ride!” The old man nodded, shaking his head as the door shut. Fernando watched, a smile across his face as the truck pulled away, leaving him alone in the forest with only the sound of wind and rustling leaves remaining. He put his hand into his pocket, pulling out the stained, frayed piece o

 I looked around the locker room, hoping no one was watching. Luckily, it was empty. No coach, no players. I was free to enjoy my typical Friday night ritual. I’d tried this with Warren’s cleats after a long game, or Chase’s sneakers after basketball practice, but I always wanted to try with Coach Halvorson’s Nike trainers. Turning to my right, I saw them on the bench next to the bench where I was sitting. I smiled as the smell hit me, the smell that only comes from a pair of worn out, sweaty shoes. They were perfect. I reached down, picking up the sneaker. It had been soaked with sticky sweat for the past few days, the sweat dripping slowly onto the floor. He wore them all the time, on the field, in the halls, in the gym… Looking down at the floor, there was a thick dark streak, running from the shoe on the left to the shoe on the right. The streaks seemingly got wider and wider as I watched. It squirmed and pulsated, but I couldn’t look away. Looking down at the shoe, the inside had

 Elliott nervously scribbled on his flashcards, hoping to God that it was enough to pass the exam. Dr. Whitacre was a notoriously tough grader, and she would absolutely kick him from the Senior Expedition if he were to get anything less than a 97. Mycology was Elliott’s passion, so missing the trip to the rainforests of Borneo was NOT an option. Luckily, he was fortunate his roommate Guillermo was returning from his class trip to the Amazon, so he could hopefully give some insight into what to expect, if not help him study for the exam. The doorknob jiggled, and he could hear the insertion of the key into the lock. The door swung open and closed, Elliott completely enveloped in his flashcards. “Hey man, I’ll be with you in a second. I’ve got like two more here, but I have to hear about the trip!” He was met only with silence, and the loud thunk of a duffel bag hitting the floor. Heavy footsteps began to walk toward the wardrobe to the left of him. Guillermo must have gotten some heavy