You don’t have a care in the world as you walk through the
front doors of the school. It feels like any other regular, semi-boring Tuesday
at the junior high. Your first hour class just flies by, but a test review in second hour just seems to
drag on and on. Nothing unusual happens until the very last hour of the day.
You have your afternoon plans on your mind as you walk into
room 160 – your creative writing class. You forget all about homework and cell
phone shopping, however, when you look around and realize that you are all
alone in the classroom.
“Maybe I am just early…” you think to yourself, but that
theory is blown when the tardy bell rings three seconds later.
A quick investigation of the classroom reveals a few clues:
broken ceiling tiles, a stray shoe, and a few tufts of brown fur. It doesn’t
take long for you to put two and two together.
“Earl must be behind this,” you
say to yourself.
You think about running to the office for help, but then you
hear a blood curdling scream echo through the ceiling ducts. “Getting help
might take too long,” you think. “What should I do?
No comments:
Post a Comment