The Malleus Maleficarum

6:06pm: ( Private )

((Just an fyi: If you think your character's on Nick's list, they probably are! Tracey has a helluva lot of friends...))

[Filtered to Tracey's friends]

I hate to sound so informal about all this, but there is an issue that must be addressed. Immediately. Speaking as a casual acquaintance of our mutual friend should make sure that this note is taken seriously - especially if I took notice.

Tracey is in an unhealthy relationship. That much is obvious. To put it bluntly, she's being manipulated and possibly abused, though the control alone is overwhelming enough to intervene.

If you care for her, remove her from her boyfriend's flat. By physical force if necessary - drag her from that horrid place. I know there are those of you willing to take her in, and more importantly those of you willing to stand up to her should she resist. She's proud, perhaps terrified, and should be far removed from this man and in the company of friends who care for her.

Normally I would insist upon talking to her and getting her to stand up to this boy on her own, but she is rather past that point. He guards her and her time, and has isolated her from all friends, and truthfully I wouldn't be surprised if he started keeping her under lock and key. If this makes your blood boil, as it does to mine as her mere teacher, please help me in getting her out of this mess.

6:45pm: and she fights for her life while she puts on her coat.
( Hexed Private (oh yes, the man is learning.) )

( Tracey )

End of term, end of term. Time to read papers and plan my next great adventure.

I think I'll try hunting squirrels in the park.

7:54pm: cheery little ghost
I hope everyone had a lovely Dia de Los Muertos.

I found a little place that makes sugar skulls. I'll be sure to bring the leftovers into class when next it meets.

Oh, and as a gesture of good will, we'll be having a (surprise) exam on the Black Death (the first round, please-and-thank-you) and its consequences. Brush up on your plague, everyone.

11:15am: long-windedness and history
( Nick's last lecture before madness (The Plague) )

3:28pm: little bits of a breakdown
( bits of a lecture-in-progress )

( private )

Class is canceled tomorrow.

4:38pm: ( incredibly private. )

Your exams were decent, class.

We shall pay a visit to Westminster Abbey to see Edward the Confessor next class. We shall meet outside at Parliament, near the statue of Oliver Cromwell.

4:26pm: fed up teacher syndrome
Charles Martel.

I keep telling you all, Charles Martel. Please, for the love of everything that is Holy, try to retain what I tell you. Please. Charles Martel beget Pepin the Short (le Bref) beget Charlemagne, and we all know why Charlemagne was important, yes?


I'm just going to assume, for my own sanity, that you all just nodded your little heads there.

I promise, we'll be done with this business soon! There are peasant revolts to talk about, and plagues, and great movements in art and architecture, and social upheavals in your near futures if you just stay with me here.

6:31pm: ( Private )

( Nick's class material (please read, students.) )

The study of history from within would be the best course of action for my class. Normally one studies history from an "above" point of view, meaning from the lives of the ruling class and those with an advanced education. The study of the famous - the wars and great battles, councils and exaggerated events, art and literature and epic poetry. Alternatively there is history from "below", or a people's history. The study of the poor, the downtrodden, or the people at the very bottom rung of the social ladder.

But history from within! We should sympathise with the men and women from the past. After all, we do share many things in common with them. We are all feeling and thinking beings, made of flesh and blood, capable of the same intense emotions. Of course we experience different things within our specific periods of human history; different obstacles to overcome and rules of society to comprehend and rebel against, but the same nonetheless.

There is a certain continuity to being human - a certain ebb and flow of things.

10:07pm: Maleficas, & earum hæresim
( Private )

My first class and all went well, don't you think, students? Lie and say yes, even if you thought I was horrid. I need encouragement. I do promise, I shall try to be less awkward when we finally move on to the Norman Conquest and into the later part of the Middle Ages. It is nearer to my own history, and one always remembers their own history more clearly than that which is further away in time.


English History indeed. I am beginning to think I must explain the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church, as I wonder how much of what I am teaching is review and what is completely new. Should I not be teaching British History? Perhaps Northern European History instead? Odd to focus completely on this tiny little island, as interesting as its past may be.

I also wonder if class trips would be completely out of the question. Something to mull, in any case.

9:51pm: Shine, sun; burn, fire; breathe, air, and ease me;
( private thoughts )

I am thinking of getting my hair cut into a more fashionable style. I heard a young man calling the wear of his hair a 'mo-he-can'. Seems a little too close to tonsured hair to me, but my opinion of what is fashionable is slightly off to modern tastes. I'm sure you can all forgive me.

12:35pm: Is anyone as sick of the Battle of Hastings as I? I hope so. William the Conqueror, Harold Godwinson, kings getting shot in the eyeball, the Normans and the English, ditto ditto etc etc. I'm tempted to skip the Norman Conquest of England all-together in favour of something more unconventional.

Funny how some names seemed to follow us throughout the ages, like Harold for instance, while others simply fade away, like Tostig. What a marvelous name, Tostig. Brother to Harold Godwinson, for those confused and wondering where in the name of St. Christopher I found Tostig in the first place.

To be perfectly honest, I've had my nose stuck in text after text for the past few days, and for a moment I feared that my eyes might begin to bleed if I picked up just one more history tome. I've taken a break to have myself a jaunty stroll around Londontown. I once used to live here, though I recognise little from my time spent at Whitehall. In fact, though I'm rather loathed to admit it, I am a bit lost.

Whitehall Palace is gone. They tore down the tree at Tyburn. St. Paul's looks nothing like like it did before. Instead of the places I once knew I see plaques and little bronzes marking the sites. The streets are clean, the houses don't block the sunlight, even the Thames looks different! (Cleaner, for the record.) Oh, where am I?

7:58am: I have bumped my head. I have bumped my head. I would like you all to take careful heed of this, as there are two main points here. One. I am capable of bumping my head again. Two. I have the proper means to bump my head into a desk. Proper head-to-trunk connection, you see. It is a wonderful thing, never take it for granted.

Pain is a rather delicious and wonderful sensation. Not my favourite sensation so far, but most definitely thrilling. Blood rushes to the point of contact, the body lurches, biting and sharp aches begin to pulse and throb, and there is either the absentminded oath or the yelp of pain. A rush, I tell you!

I'm fairly sure I have a lesson to plan. Somebody's put me in charge of teaching history to students. I am in no position to complain...though I do take exception to being left alone with something that spills a vile-looking liquid in a clear carafe and makes growling noises. It looks vicious. I am pretty sure it is angry at me. I've thrown a fork at it, but it has bounced off and gotten stuck in a loaf of bread. I am only sure that made things worse.

These trousers are so very uncomfortable, and I cannot stress how long it took me to understand how to write on this. I've been here for hours.

The machine - she sleeps! Ah, peace.

2:18pm: Application for Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington
( the application )