I Promise

The teacher walked into the classroom. It was the first period of learning process featured in the daily school schedule as it has been our main routine as an obedient student. For that breezy morning, I would first embrace English subject with the chivalrous gentleman, Sir Ashraf.

I remember the first time he entered the class, which was approximately eight months ago, he was sharp, energetic, charming, coherent, and of course, disciplined and strict. He started his class with asking people to write phrasal verbs and idiomatic expressions for everyday. Whoever failed to do that would face numerous kinds of penalties and punishments. My best friend, Mevlut once got messed up with the idiom as he caught in a confusion between "all hell break loose" and "until hell freezes over" which he ended up writing "all hell freak the breeze over" instead. And for that he had to copy 40 essays in 24 hours. Good news was he did it only in fourteen hours. Goddamn wicked hands. In another occasion someone unlucky in my class got caught red-handed after she didn't finish her homework. She had to write "I, (her name) promise blah blah blah..." for 300 times in a day. Bad news was her name's a five-word phrase. Best of luck, kiddo.

Sir Ashraf is not just handsome, but also a wily creative gaffer.

But today, I couldn't find all those attributes that I once unearthed eight month ago. I just saw an absolute emptiness on his pale, bloodless face, as if the bloods were so damn exhausted to run in his veins anymore. Everyone knows that he was diagnosed with a throat cancer stage 3, three month ago. Now it has climbed to another level. A level where all kind of medicines are utter useless. He's dying but he never let his students disturbed upon it. I recognized some guttural voice in him whenever he speaks interlaced with uncountable harsh coughs. He covered his mouth with a tissue when he coughs and it is not hard for me to see some reddish spots on the tissue as I sat in front of the teacher's desk. But what does he say? "Never mind,".

His voice was also not as firm and loud as before anymore. Signs that he is becoming weaker day by day. But he never leave his job of teaching us unattended. Nowadays it is not hard to fake an MC, though he's not faking his disease. He's known for his zealot upon Arsenal's legendary manager Herbert Chapman, who died in his stint with the Gunners, and he really wish to be the same. Another word accomplished, dedication.

But it was my turn today, and sadly I forgot to write it last night. Actually I forgot that today would be my turn too. Yes, another achievement unlocked. Punished with mental act by the witty Sir Ashraf. An "I Promise" for 250 times. Thank God my name's short. "I want it tomorrow morning on my table!" he said. Almost an invisible threat I guess.

I nodded.

Tomorrow parks by with full throttle. Swift. But he didn't enter the class. Although I have submitted my penalty on his table in the teacher's room early in the morning. At that time, he was still absent, which for me, was absurd. Sheer bizarre.

News and gossips spread faster than oxygen could ever will as by afternoon, the entire school were informed that Sir Ashraf has been admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) last night. Shortly after, a junior of mine, he is two years younger than me, gave me a piece of whacked paper fit in my grasp. After that he ran away and wiped his unseen tears concurrently. I was astounded.

The junior is Sir Ashraf's younger brother. I unlatched the note and then I felt speechless. I could do nothing except covering my mouth with my bijou palm. The aftermath of a rumpled note.

"That would be my last punishment. After this I will be punished by Him."

Regards, The Chivalrous Gentleman

I knelt in rheum.