The Feisty Ferret: Dark Night Tales, #5

By Kelly Mathewson

When a world famous artists named The Feisty Ferret becomes a school teacher, three children soon discover what this teacher has plans for his students outside of their education. Excitement for the arrival of the artist soon turns to terror as they unfold what he is up too. The artist's dark secrets will lead the boys down a path that could arrive at their demise. What will they do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: CDH Publishing House
• Release date: Nov 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215071588

Kelly Mathewson

A hard-nosed Sagittarius, Kelly Mathewson experiences our vast universe as a being with many lives. A successful Attorney, Mediator, and Podcast producer, she writes books, novels and short stories based somewhat on her many experiences. Jack of all Trades… Master of Nothing Deal Maker, Deal Breaker, Negotiator and always a citizen of the Imagination.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Foster residence lived within the city of Olympia, the bizarrely unknown capital of the equally obscure state of Washington. The Fosters lived along Jasper Avenue to the northeast, a relatively quiet, if somewhat crowded, neighborhood laying opposite of the industrial central suburbs of Olympia. The Foster home was a tastelessly standard home fashioned with a grass garden along with several mundane decorations.

Gene Foster was married to Alicia Foster for fifteen years and currently had two children, an older and a younger daughter. Gene sported a career as a key grip in a studio for regular castings of television advertisements for products, several of such products Gene currently owned in his own home. Alicia Foster lived the uneventful lifestyle as a traditional housewife, remaining at home in order to maintain the lifestyles of her kin as her husband earned his daily profit for his services to the community.

Michael Foster was currently thirteen years of age and attended the Terrance Middle School, a relatively remote school with an unusually large attendance of students ranging within two hundred to two hundred and fifty. Ever since his young age, he has aspired to become a world famous artist, capable of practicing and perfecting each and every form of art that had ever been conjured in the history of mankind.

Naturally, because of these intentions, his most concentrated subject in his classes was the art class, along with multiple other classmates with similar, if less outlandishly driven, intentions. He was immediately drawn to these lessons by the supposed guarantee of earning a consistent career and gaining a popular reputation amongst the public, or so he had been told. The only obstacle he could consider that would undermine this 'guarantee' is his mediocre teacher representing the lessons.

Pamela North had been the art teacher for several years, and although Michael couldn't pinpoint the exact amount of time, it was clearly too long. Her caring attitude towards her class's success in the profession seemed non-existent, and the consistency in her instructions were of an equal nature. Michael has failed many art assignments simply due to the instructions contrasting with either the nature of the tasks themselves or of the teacher's clear instructional sabotage.

Currently, it was Michael's third week during his third term of school, and was spending his Tuesday afternoon in his art class before the stroke of three. In this current lesson, he was taught the way of painting still life, in the loosest possible form of the word 'taught'. As usual, the teacher would comment on the incorrect mixing of the paints that Michael used, ironic was the fact that these specific paints were supplied to him by the art class itself and were mandatory to use.

Finally, the homestretch of ten minutes was taken into account and Mrs. North began reviewing the student's artworks, each student in question placing them on the tables. Ten minutes of unwarranted criticisms and useless explanations passed until Michael's artwork would be subjected to this fate. By this time, Michael could not decide whether these criticisms were truly based on the teacher's obvious lack of deductive reasoning and art skills or simply with intent to spite him.

After finally receiving his latest fail for his hindered perseverance in this lesson, the three o'clock bell chimed and announced the end of the agony and suffering that is education. Michael remained begrudged over his unavoidable failure within his class, and now expected the rest of the Friday to be of an equally mediocre nature. Thankfully, the only consolation for studying these classes was his connection to several students within the class.

Eric Phelps had become his closest friend ever since he had begun attending Terrance middle school, proudly offering him the longest relationship with Michael. Eric sported a large mop of blonde hair and an absurdly based voice. He was primarily a sports person and aspired to join an American baseball team, but Eric also had an eye for practicing both culinary and artistic activities. Eric had often explained to Michael that these activities allow him to gain concentration on his actions during sports.

Corey Isaacs, on the other hand, was often a mere associate and a general convenience to Michael. Corey had thick and shimmering black hair that would hide the left half of his face behind his fringe. Corey was a complete opportunist in Michael's eyes, often attempting to convince classmates and other students to pay him to perform certain acts, including spying on people and spreading gossip. Besides this, Michael has noted his clear honesty, considering him to be the archetype for a man of business.

Several other students were among the list of Michael's companions, though they rarely offered a similar connection or left a similar impact. Eric was often a subject of complications for Michael because of his short temper, though Michael rarely approached him for any particular reasons. Michael considered himself to be a relatively social person, this fact being best presented by how everyone in his class seemed to know him, for better or worse.

As the Friday afternoon continued beyond the school hours, Michael basked in the rays of the setting sun as he prepared to leave the school ground and return home. Michael didn't require being transported home by his parents since his home was only several blocks away from the school itself. He stretched his muscles as the pressed firmly against the bindings of his formal school uniform, before stuffing his hands into his coat's pockets as he began his journey home.

He passed the intersection into his neighborhood, the boiling sun poisoning the gusting wind with its malice and radiating from the overhead horizon of the concrete pavement. His house finally loomed into view, the blandness of the front lawn's decoration scheme contrasting with the other surrounding homes offering a clear definition. Michael himself felt a sense of dissatisfaction from the state