Preamble:
This horrid tale is one of those ghastly stories which did come about through my waking up shortly after 3 a.m. on the morning of July 7th. Upon rising, almost the entire tale was fixed in my mind, and I began to write. As the fictitious construction of the college in question originates at a rather tumultuous period in England’s history, and research thereto was most imperative, it did take just over two months to fully complete this work.
Loosely based upon some of my own schooling history, Carlton House is an imaginary, parochial school which could easily stand anywhere in the English speaking world. Yet, as its age is mentioned as stemming from the year 1470 and as the structure was originally a Catholic Monastery until the “Act of Supremacy”, which was passed in England in the year 1534, Carlton House unequivocally lies somewhere in a long forgotten part of that island nation. As with the history of that empire, through the reign of Henry VIII, Edward VI, Queen Mary, and the early part of Queen Elizabeth I, the fate of Carlton House would have been in question throughout that same period of time. Thus, further expansion of the institution mentioned in this tale is set in the early part of the 17th Century. It was a time when the Church of England was relatively well established, and the fear of having the buildings confiscated, or even torn down altogether, was no longer as prevalent. Any exclusive religious order and school, regardless of its faith, would have been foolhardy to venture using any capital at its disposal prior to that time, one would guess. All of this historical fact and analysis simply places the origin of the fictional college in the time frame chosen for this gothic tale. Yet, the vision of the actual school, its entrance and the stone exterior, come partially from my own background and travels.
Having entered the formal part of my educational exposure in the final parts of the 1950's, the school I first attended was indeed secular, but it was run by an order of catholic nuns. It was also a time prior to the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council (the 21st Catholic Ecumenical Council), and little reform had transpired in the way mass was held in Latin, habits were worn by religious orders, or schooling was conducted in the centuries before that call at St. Peter’s. Thus, I entered into the educational process at a time when most schools of note had an impressive, grand, solid entrance, reminiscent of centuries past, and was rarely used by students other than on formal occasions.
The other factor which may have greatly contributed to the fictional construction of Carlton House are three other institutions of learning within the beautiful City of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Two were catholic, private schools back then. One of these schools is Vancouver College, which has a most memorable entrance, the other was The Convent of Sacred Heart. I realize, in afterthought, that this second institution was abandoned by the catholic teachers and has since become an exclusive, protestant school for boys, much like Carlton House. Those cold, grey, granite, building blocks of the convent’s elongated, multi-story exterior, when combined with the stone facade of the original, main library at the Universityof British Columbia, and the entrance hall to Vancouver College, were the three parts of the structure I had in my mind when I awoke that memorable morning. Since those school years, I have also been fortunate enough to have travelled to distant Austria, Germany, Hungary, England, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Romania, Poland, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia and Montenegro. Therein, I have walked along and through many an Abby, monasteries which date from the 11th or 12th Centuries or even earlier. All were originally constructed of stone and have left lasting impressions, memories from which I have taken the liberty of borrowing some of my fictional architecture from.
As for the tale itself, it may also have some very loose roots to my past. One of the very few things I regret is not having taken the Scholarship Examinations at the end of my final year at Vancouver College. It was, in hindsight, counter productive to my ability to further my education through a scholarship; yet, as you read on, that was not to be a part of my own future.
Vancouver College, often perceived as the most prestigious school in Vancouver at that time, based its final grading of its graduating class solely upon those papers mentioned above, tests which eased a successful candidate into gaining access to a multitude of universities, the finite goal of the college, a fact I had not been aware of. At that time, a full 95% of each average, graduating class went forward with their education, earning a university degree in the process. As I stemmed from a rather impoverished family, the option of directly going on to a level of higher learning was not open to me, a fact I knew full well beforehand and helped formulate my decision not to write these additional trials by question. Yet, having graduated 2nd overall, ‘Magna Cum Laude’, in that final year, I will always wonder if I could not have been at the very zenith of my graduating class had I also taken that second set of examinations. Having also had to apply myself in earnest in order to surpass two of my classmates to attain the top mark; and, as one of those competing students is a very good friend to this very day and who had no need to study, I was, at times, frustrated at the apparent ease these two rivals often achieved over my own grade. This is not to say, however, that my own scholastic achievements did not have merit or were left unrecognized at the college. In fact, quite the opposite was true.
Vancouver Collegewas founded in 1922, centuries after the fictional Carlton House. It soon became the school of choice for the more affluent catholic children in the young City of Vancouver (1899). By the time I entered those halls of learning, they were already ‘hallowed’ halls through which much of Vancouver’s ‘nouveau elite’ had passed, both protestant and catholic. This school had, by then, a full boarding dormitory attached for the children of the wealthy. As a ‘Day Student’, I had the privilege of departing from that sombre institution each and every afternoon, once classes had terminated for the day. Yet, I often stayed behind, volunteering for various activities this school offered. This additional time extended to the college was noted; and, at times, used, rather less discretely than what one would have deemed proper, to urge other, more affluent, day students to follow my example.
Many of the children of those richer families were also permanent boarders who called the college their home throughout the term. They did not have the option of leaving the grounds without permission and had a much more regulated life, a discipline the rest of the students all sensed and were acutely aware of. If one of those children fell afoul of a particular teacher (the school is run by a catholic, religious order of ‘Brothers’), then their actions were much more closely guarded, their freedom often restricted to purely scholastic work for hours on end.
As I travelled from a city just south of Vancouver, and as public transport was not only my sole option of arriving at the college but sparse, the only viable way to make my connections was to arrive well over an hour and a half early each day. Thus, I would often already be in a classroom before a ‘problematic’ boarding classmate was ushered into the school by one of the brothers. These tutors remained with their hapless charges, noted my presence, and witnessed not only my private studies but also my keen willingness to spend time assisting others with their respective work. These factors all put me in a most welcome and favourable light with my instructors, especially three of my home-room teachers, all of which became very good friends over those formative years. These religious tutors often used my level of work as an example of what could be achieved if one only puts their mind to any subject before them.
Thus, “The Bizarre Events at Carlton House” are pure fiction, a most horrid and uncanny tale of a genius child whose own scholastic achievements are negated and openly belittled. This affront causes the aspiring youth shame before his classmates and immeasurable inner pain. This anguish results both from actions presented in the classroom as well as those perceived to have taken place, in a clandestine form, by the tormented youth. As the unknown work by the instructors and those deeds which take place in the classroom are looked upon as an unjust, aggressive, affront, that misery builds up over time. As the adolescent in question discovers, over a time span of more than two years, that it is apparently not possible, through hard work and study, to overcome those obstacles, those unprovoked attacks, both actual and imagined, they turn into a deep inner hatred, unbalancing the mind of that student in the process.
“The Bizarre Events at Carlton House” is not a Gothic Horror Story which everyone will enjoy, but it shows how extreme, negative pressure, if strong and constant enough, can result in actions, greatly out of character, to burst forth from a targeted student. This release of a perceived, problematic situation in an adolescent is usually noticed by others as a sudden, inexplicable response, but it is most often a latent, lingering thought that compounds over time within that victimized individual. The seemingly ‘unsolvable’ situation usually remains within the mind of that student in thought only. Very often, they tend to pull away from the mainstream of the class, becoming loners in that terrible process. This isolation may be enough of a release, yet it often compounds the situation, driving the youth into ever deeper despair. Yet, once that idea to respond to that almost unbearable pressure is brought out in concrete, physical action, a fact which rarely occurs, those regrettable deeds are usually most irrevocable, and are the direct result of that unwarranted ‘peer’ pressure. Most often, the tormented student harm themselves and suicide, or attempted suicide, is the result. In this gruesome tale, the victim resorts to another, most inhumane, method of alleviating his pain.
Read on, if you dare; but, hopefully, this ghastly tale will present some insight on how one should properly treat another human being before it is too late. Once you have pushed that wretched individual over the edge; then, perhaps we are all damned to the terrible fate described in “The Bizarre Events at Carlton House”!
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