Horror

Feb

2022

Mr. George the Gorger’s Valentine’s Day Special

The children shrilled with laughter as Mr. George’s belch shook the stage. The stench of rotten fruit lingered, evidence of the 265 candy apples he had just consumed. He rubbed his gelatinous belly, his snout curling into a smile.

“Oh ho ho!” he squeaked, his cherubic pitch betraying his eight-foot frame. “Your Valentine’s gifts were so scrumptious today! Thank you, everyone!”

“You’re welcome, Mr. George!” the audience roared.

Mr. Friendship winced from stage left, the noise having interrupted him from reviewing his routine. He glanced at the two people before him and the two behind. Three new faces, four frowns. He maintained his smile and returned to rehearsing his words.

“We’ve had such fun today, everyone!” Mr. George continued, slapping his hands together. “Our show’s almost over, which means…”

“Mr. George’s Fun Friend Time!”

The showman chuckled, his jawbreaker eyes rolling in their sockets. “That’s right, and for today’s special, I’ve asked all my friends to share why Valentine’s Day is so super-duper great!”

As he swung one arm to the adults, Smarties, Skittles, and M&M’s skittered across the stage from his candy-scaled skin. A spotlight veered to the first act, an unkempt man who cowered in the light. A cloaked stagehand pushed him forward, the light following.

“Say hello to my new friend, Mr. Stuart!” The children cheered, their spittle spraying the edge of the stage. The man flinched.

Mr. George squelched two steps toward the man, leaving pudding footprints behind. “Mr. Stuart,” he squealed, “What do you—-“

“What the hell’s going on?” the man cried. He looked at his fellow guests. “Is this a joke? What the fuck is this!” He searched for cameramen, producers, someone who could be running the show. “I’m done! I’m done! Let me leave!”

The children were quiet, their silhouettes motionless. Mr. Friendship steeled his smile. The man took a step back.

A stage hand tackled the man from behind, propelling him into Mr. George’s outstretched arms. The showman clamped his hands on each side of the man, his hands spanning from shoulder to elbow.

“Aww…” Mr. George trilled, “It seems like Mr. Stuart needs…”

“Love!”

“That’s right! Get ready, Mr. Stuart!”

Mr. George creaked and snapped as his snout opened, revealing hundreds of candy corn teeth. The beast leaned forward—holding the man’s face inches from his maw—and vomited. Red candy coating engulfed the man as he shrieked and struggled. The sour odor of burnt flesh, sulfur, and cinnamon comingled with the sound of children’s laughter.

When Mr. George let go, Mr. Stuart’s candied body collapsed against the concrete flooring. His corpse would harden from the coating before it would from rigor mortis.

“Oh, that Mr. Stuart was such a party pooper! Let’s hope our next friend is more playful!” Mr. George danced on-stage, gesturing toward the next act. “You may remember her from our last show. It’s Ms. Sandy!” He performed a stomping tap dance before turning to her. “Ms. Sandy, why is Valentine’s Day special for you?”

The spotlight blanched the woman’s face. She clutched at her cue card. Mr. Friendship was with her in the last show, and her response had saved him from performing. He had appreciated that. However, he knew from her look it wouldn’t happen again. Her look was the look of someone whose plan had fallen through. He had seen it many times before.

She tiptoed forward, her voice shaky as she spoke, “Valentine’s Day is special to me because it is the day you show us your—“

Her breath hitched. “—mercy—”

She choked again. “—and love…”

Mr. George’s smile widened, splitting at the edge of his lips. “You need love, too, Ms. Sandy?”

“No,” she shouted, shaking her head, “no, no, that’s okay! I don’t need any, Mr. George.” She stumbled backwards. She hesitated before turning to run.

A licorice tongue cracked against the woman’s back before wrapping around her. She screamed for help as she was whipped back toward Mr. George. She collided with his body, sinking into his stomach and chest. She struggled to break free.

Mr. George’s tongue swiped across her face as it retracted, covering her mouth with a jelly film to stop her cries. The children jumped in their seats and clapped.

The showman twirled and bowed. “You did need love, Ms. Sandy! It feels so, so good to have you with me! And you’re right; I do love to show my love on Valentine’s Day!”

Mr. Friendship stifled a grimace as the woman looked pleadingly toward him. He could not think of her now, especially with the spotlight on him. He beamed toward the audience.

“That’s two friends now! Three to go!” Mr. George crowed, lumbering back into a dance. “I’m so happy to welcome Mr. Phil Friendship for his fifth show!”

It was time. Mr. Friendship jigged forward, clapping his hands while guffawing. “As you can see, Mr. George,” he called while cartwheeling, “I’m so happy, happy, happy to be here today!” He somersaulted onto his feet and began mimicking Mr. George’s dancing. The children bellowed from their seats, their smiles frothing.

The room quieted quickly once Mr. George spoke, “Oh ho ho, you’re so silly, Mr. Friendship! But what, I wonder, is your answer today?”

Mr. Friendship froze in place with his mouth agape, feigning surprise. “Oh?” He jumped into an upright posture. “Oh! My answer! Well, I love all of the love on Valentine’s Day, just like you! It makes me and you all warm and fuzzy. Isn’t that right, Mr. George?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. It was too dangerous. “But you know, Mr. George, why do we get all the love today? You’ve been loving on us this entire show. Now it’s our turn to love on you! Isn’t that right, kids?” He reached to the audience.

“Yes!” they erupted in unison, convulsing in their seats.

But they didn’t move further. Despite how they writhed, they waited for Mr. George. Mr. Friendship felt the sweat trickle down his back and from his armpits. He kept his arms before him and clenched his smile tighter. The monster stood still, his eyes twirling.

“Hmm…” the showman hummed, his voice deep and rumbling. It reverberated throughout the stage, making the other two acts yelp. Mr. Friendship blinked the water away from his eyes. Minutes seemed to pass.

“Aww shucks!” Mr. George hooted, the high pitch returning. “You’re right, Mr. Friendship. Come on, kids! Show me how much you love me!”

Mr. Friendship scurred offstage as the children stampeded onstage. He hurtled himself in a steel cage in the wing, locking the door behind him. He sobbed as he watched from the narrow grille.

The children had swarmed Mr. George, who giggled unceasingly. They tore chunks off of his body and bit into his flesh. They ripped apart Ms. Sandy and opened the showman’s stomach. They tugged at taffy intestines and rock candy ribs. Candy bile coated and dissolved their hands which, in turn, were eaten by themselves or other children.

Some kids feasted on Mr. Stuart. Two scratched at each other’s faces as they fought over an arm. One child gnawed on another’s leg, seemingly unphased by the lack of sugar. Other children had pursued the two other side acts into the auditorium, stifling their screams in hungry mouths. Mr. Friendship had assured himself there had been no time to tell them this would happen. Even the stagehands had known to flee immediately.

As bloodied fingers clawed through the grille of Mr. Friendship’s cage, he sat against the opposite wall, his hands against his ears. He would have another week to come up with a new plan while Mr. George reformed. He would be able to scavenge for scraps once it was day. For now, he tried to drown out the animalistic howls so he could fall asleep.

Feb

2021

The Brain School – Chapter 7

Forward

I was not ready for this undertaking. I thought I could just edit the Brain School here and there, being a kind co-pilot to young Solomon. With this chapter, young Solomon has lost his driving privileges. I’m back in the driver’s seat, letting “YS” sit in my lap. He can pretend he’s driving by himself, but I’m right there, making sure he doesn’t drive us off the cliff like that suicidal brat wants to do. Conversely, this metaphor has totally escaped my control.

Chapter 7 has had the most glaring plot holes thus far, including a scene in which Warren fights off shadows in a library and walks away without any consequences. Those shadows will return in the book, but YS thought including them in this chapter was just what we needed to keep the action going. Wrong, Young Solomon; you were incredibly wrong.

I’ve cut out about a third of this chapter in revising it. I’ve excised ridiculous descriptions. I’ve rewritten dialogue and characters, especially Irene. I’ve also severely reduced the amount of damage Warren experiences. At the end of the last chapter, I had changed a section in which Tommy pushed Warren into his bed, resulting in Warren’s head colliding with the bed frame. He later gets beat up by the shadows. We won’t talk about next chapter. We’ll see if I cut out that violence.

In the interest of keeping the original voice and tone of the Brain School, I still haven’t revised it in a way that reflects my current writing style. Bits and pieces of my current style are present, but at the end of the day, this is still young Solomon’s book, not mine. We’ll see if this mentality survives past the next chapter.

Chapter 7 – Arising Conflicts

I awoke to a drumbeat against the inside of my skull. Pain radiated from my back where it had been hit the night before. My stomach joined the chorus, tightening in anger against its emptiness. Even before my brain was ready to recognize it, my body communicated that it didn’t want to face the day ahead.

I swung my legs off the bed and sat up, cursing again as my head began to throb. I cupped my head into my hands. Through the slits between my fingers, I eyed the room and found all of my roommates sleeping. Tommy lay across from me, and I stifled the urge to ram my foot into his face.

“5:30 a.m.” blazed across the face of my watch. With half an hour still to rest, I collapsed back into the soft comfort of my bedding. I urged myself to fall back to sleep, but both ache and worry urged against this. I needed to do something.

I needed a plan. Would it help to join the Brain School Survivors? Hell, why couldn’t I just listen to Tommy and stay out of it all? God knew I didn’t have to save the school from certain death, but what would happen if I left my fate with Tommy? I seemingly had two choices. I could be lazy and not do anything, or I could lend a hand with Mind’s work. Who was the right one to follow: Tommy or Mind?

Both weren’t right. Both embodied arrogance, and neither was scared enough. In this situation, the grey seemed friendlier than the black or white. I had to stay in the middle and lead myself, but I could pretend to go along with each side. That meant I would have to join the BSS while ensuring Tommy wasn’t be my enemy. I didn’t like the latter idea, but it had to be part of the plan.

I pushed myself off my mattress and focused on my morning routine. I showered, washing off days of sweat, dirt, and tears. I tried to empty my mind as I brushed my teeth. I dressed myself in a clean outfit, almost able to pretend it was just another day.

When I had finished, “6:07” glared at me in green pigments. I needed to speak to Tommy eventually, but this morning, I didn’t want to pretend to go with his plan. I wasn’t ready to give him that honor. I snatched my wallet from yesterday’s pants and walked out of the dorm.

There were few people out at this time, and I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. It was to my disappointment then that I found Eli in the cafeteria. He saw me as I entered and indicated that he expected me to sit with him. Resigned, I grabbed my food and joined him.

“Hey Warren,” he said as I sat down. He studied my face and frowned. “You don’t look like you’re doing too well; something wrong?”

“Just a bit of a headache, that’s all,” I replied.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “That sucks.” He paused as I stared at my plate, figuring out my portion today. “Hey,” he began again, “I heard you’re thinking about joining the Brain School Survivors. What’s your opinion of them so far?”

“You know about them?” I sputtered through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Yeah, I was one of the first members,” he boasted. “Mind, Alex, and I started the group when we first started noticing strange things. So, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“How many BSS members are there?” I continued, ignoring his question.

Eli sighed. “There are about forty of us right at the moment, and please, use Brain School Survivors instead of BSS. I told them the name was stupid—especially for that acronym—but it stuck. Anyway, our numbers have stabilized because only a few have been able to go without food. Some students are still not able to remember anything even when they eat very little. Now, can you answer my question?”

“Yes, I’m going to join your group,” I mumbled. “Don’t expect me to give myself up to the good of the society, but yes, I will join your meetings and take part in the activities that seem beneficial.”

“Great attitude,” Eli countered, but he didn’t appear offended. “I just suggest you don’t act this way in front of Mind. He might not let you stay a member if he felt you weren’t taking it seriously. I don’t know what you’ll consider “beneficial,” but it would be good to have you. Make sure to kiss up a bit to Mind, but I’ll make sure you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Work for you?”

“Sure,” I replied hesitantly.

“Great! I’ll see you at the meeting tonight then, assuming that headache doesn’t get worse.” He gave me a warm smile and nudged me.

I was about to ask another question when Eli shouted at someone behind me. I shifted in my seat and saw a group of guys coming toward our table. Among them was Tommy, acting his normal joking and deceitful self. Eli continued to wave them over until each of them grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the table.

“Hope we’re not intruding upon anything,” Tommy said to Eli as he sat down, flicking his eyes over to me. “We don’t want to interrupt any romantic conversations the two of you may be having.” The table responded with rambunctious laughter, too energetic for this early in the day.

Eli said something in response, and the laughter continued, but I couldn’t join in. As Tommy smirked and giggled along with the rest, his eyes remained planted on me, cutting into my thoughts. It seemed he wanted me to clearly understand where we now stood after last night’s exchange.

I quietly excused myself from the table. There was some fuss—mainly from Tommy—but I stood firm and left. I couldn’t stand pretending to banter with Tommy. I needed a break from him. I needed a break from everyone.

However, my social studies class would not provide that reprieve. Having arrived early, I had some minutes to myself in an empty classroom, but the other students would follow. I rested my forehead against the desk and tried to pull at the fragments of a plan in my head. I had fantastical ideas of rallying the student body to rebel. I thought of running away, hopping the gate, and disappearing into the forest.

Mr. Drake entered the room, greeting those of us scattered in the room. My hopes scattered similarly. I imagined him in his monstrous form, tearing through crowds of teenagers without us being able to react. I began to sweat as I thought of him hunting me down in the forest.

I breathed in and pulled my forehead off the desk, offering a weak smile to Drake who was now looking at me. He had a concerned look on his face, as if he could tell I was stressed. He seemed to look like he actually cared. Hatred boiled in my stomach. If he did care about me, it was the same care a slaughterer shared with his livestock.

After Tommy funneled in to class with the rest, my hatred overwhelmed me. It was not a foreign feeling because it was the same hatred I had felt before I had entered this damned school. This hatred grew out of powerlessness and confusion. It felt like I could not control anything, but I had all of the playing pieces in front of me. I knew that the school staff were monsters, but they had already shown how much control they had over us, even in their human forms. I theoretically had allies, but they had their heads up their asses and did not seem to listen to reason.

I stewed in this emotion all through class, staring a hole into the middle of my desk. Drake’s lecture droned on, and Tommy sat in my periphery. I could not ignore either of them, so I screamed internally, hoping it would not slip out.

By the time class had finished, I was fully pressured, anger threatening to burst from every one of my pores. As I trudged out of class and to my dorm, I made a point of needlessly bumping into others. I knew it was juvenile, but I dared any one of them to say anything. I wanted to punch a face, any face. I waited for retaliation, an insult, a sneer, anything to give me a reason to start something. None came.

When I entered the gym, a large group of students caught my eye. Potential conflict. Gym class wasn’t being held in the gym this week, so this group wasn’t here for any class. As I shuffled closer, I saw that most of the students had created a semi-circle, pinning one person in a corner of the gym. Judging from the people I could see, the posse seemed to consist of the US. I suspected they were either bullying a lesser individual or listening to their leader. With my mind set to its pessimistic ideals, I doubted their leader would be retreating from the group.

That was enough for me to act. I saw an opportunity to stick up for someone while simultaneously releasing my aggression. This was not the norm for me, but it seemed normal didn’t matter much in this school anymore.

“-hell you’re doing creeping around us?” As I drew near and circled round the group, I found Xavier Barron was the owner of the accusing voice. After Michael McGowan disappeared from school, Xavier took his place as head of the US. He led his group out of mourning for their past leader and into an age of popularity. He was smart, athletic, and completely full of shit. I would have a hard time saving whoever the hell decided bother him.

“Answer my question!” Xavier yelled at the girl who had now backed herself into the corner. I remembered her from some of my classes. I knew her name, but I didn’t know her personally. She wasn’t really the outgoing type. She usually sat in the back of the class, away from everyone. I never saw her with any friends; I didn’t really see her at all for that matter. Why would a wallflower like her sneak up on the US?

“What the fuck were you doing?” Xavier shouted again. “You think you can sneak yourself into our group? Hey! Answer, you bi-”

“Jesus, Xavier, lay off her!”

Xavier shifted stiffly to where I stood a few feet away. I felt a mass of eyes turn to me as the group opened to include me. My sense of reason crawled out from under my hatred, mustering the strength to question whether this was actually a good idea.

“Who the hell are you?” Xavier spat through gritted teeth. He glanced back at the girl and then at me. “I know your type of trash tends to stick together, but I didn’t think any of you actually had a spine.” He turned with a snide grin to his followers and was complimented with a few laughs.

“We’re going with stereotypical bullying today, are we?” I retaliated. “Are you going to threaten to stick my head down a toilet next?”

“Oh shut the f-”

“No cussing in school!” I managed with a grin. This banter was cathartic, but I was becoming increasingly concerned about my exit strategy.

“I can say any fucking wordI want,” Xavier snapped. “Why am I talking to you anyway?” Xavier looked back over to the girl. “My business is with this chick, and I believe you have nothing to do with her.” He started walking back to the girl.

“She has a name, you know,” I said, my voice now beginning to falter as I cringed at my own words. Xavier immediately stopped and turned around as if he was waiting for my response. “It’s Irene.”

“And why the fuck do I care? I don’t even know who the hell you are.” He scoffed at me, seeming to finally size me up.

I almost said my name and then thought against it. Instead, I just stood silently, hoping I would appear intimidating.

“Nothing? After all of that, you got nothing now?” Xavier laughed as he began to circle Irene. I glanced at her and found her staring directly at me. Her blank eyes didn’t show any fear or apprehension. If she was showing any emotion, it was apathy. There was none of the thankful princess stereotype I had been imagining. What the hell was I doing here?

Xavier seemed to pick up on the fact that he was having a greater impact on me than he was on her. He watched me as he walked closer to Irene.

“All that bravado and now you look more scared than this chick here.” He stopped and stood behind her, and being a full foot taller than me, he seemed to arch over Irene menacingly. He leaned over beside her ear and cooed, “I’m just trying to figure out why this bitch has been stalking us; that’s all. You can act like her knight in shining armor all you want, but I’m not the bad one here.” He smirked and eyed me again. “You seem to think I’m some kind of monster.”

In my head, at that moment, he was. I watched his skin bubble off as he mutated in that monster that Drake had become. The scene then flashed to Irene being ripped apart by him, viscera and blood splattering across a cheering audience. My heart began to race, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

The nightmare drained away as I heard Xavier and his posse laugh at me. He was pointing at me, and I imagine from his position, it had looked like he had scared me. The anger reignited in my stomach. He was nothing compared to what I had seen.

“Leave her alone,” I hissed.

Xavier laughed all the harder. “You’re funny to watch, man. One moment, you’re pissing yourself, and the next, you’re back to your shitty hero act.” He shook his head and met my gaze, his eyes reflecting a spite not in his voice. “You can run off now. I’ll make sure everyone talks about how you bravely stood up to me.”

“Leave her alone, Xavier,” I repeated, holding my ground. Irene continued to watch me, almost as if observing a science experiment.

“I don’t have time for this,” he mumbled, pushing Irene aside and planting himself in front of me. I had to look up to keep eye contact, and this close up, it was that more evident how disadvantaged I was physically. He seemed to fully understand my thought process.

“You’re really going ahead with this?” he laughed in my face. “This girl doesn’t seem to give two shits about you, and you’re still here? I’m not even in the wrong here, dickwad. She’s been creeping around us, butting into things like you are. Now, butt out before-“

I had had enough. I grabbed both of Xavier’s shoulders before he could finish his sentence. Once I had a firm grasp, I used him as leverage as I rammed my knee right into his groin. It was a direct hit. With a grunt, Xavier fell to the ground, wheezing. I knew my attack was highly undignified, but I wasn’t going for the dignified hero look.

“Come on, Irene,” I called out as I took a few steps away from Xavier, who continued to gasp from the fetal position. The rest of the US did not seem the slightest bit interested in me, and several had knelt down beside their leader. Irene, comparatively, seemed unmoved by what had just happened and followed me. I could hear some of the US speaking under their breath, and Xavier wasn’t breathing as heavily. It was time to head off.

Both Irene and I had Mr. Tower next, so I didn’t have to worry about escorting her anywhere. Silently, both of us walked briskly to his class. Inside, she retired to her usual seat in the back of the class. I hesitated for a moment, questioning whether I should follow her. Kneeing Xavier in the balls had been cathartic, and I was coming to realization I had just helped a cute girl. I decided to sit beside her.

She did not respond as I sat down. She didn’t even look at me. She had placed a notebook on her desk and began writing in it. From my angle, I could not see what she was doing, but I was bothered that her attention was not on me.

I shifted in my seat, facing her. “Sorry that I didn’t help much,” I offered, hoping my understatement would get some sort of response. She looked up from her notebook and at me, seeming to process what I had said. As if this was a cue, I continued awkwardly, “Since those US jerks are probably going to follow both of us for a while, I’m happy to stick around if that would help. After all, it’ll be my fault if they get mad at us.”

She paused, looking back at her notebook before turning back to me. “Why did you help me?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper. This was the type of question which would have allowed me to boast about myself, but the way she asked it killed that spirit. She was not interested in me; she seemed interested in my behavior.

“Uh…well…” I stumbled, thrown off by the tone of the question. “I knew that scumbag had it in for you, and my conscience wouldn’t let me sleep if I had just passed you by without trying to help.”

“So you’re like some type of Prince Charming?” she asked. That comment stung, but it seemed less intended to insult than it was to categorize me.

“Uh…no, I’m not any type of Prince Charming,” I replied shakily. “Kicking someone in the balls kind of disqualifies you.” I expected at least a smirk, but I got nothing. Her eyes seemed to burn through my retinas and into my soul. I continued, scared of the silence, “I acted on instinct and adrenaline, not much else.”

Irene studied me for a bit longer and then shook her head. “Thanks anyway,” she replied. It almost looked like she had smiled, but at this point, I was convinced it could have been a nervous tic instead. I was about to speak again, but the bell cut me off. I turned to sit facing forward, glad our exchange had ended. It started to seem less crazy to me that she’d be snooping around the US.

That thought didn’t feel right, and something about her seemed off, even more than her lack of emotion. As Tower’s lecture began, I snuck glances at her, trying to figure out what it was about her that made me feel so off. Then my eye caught it. A silver chain around her neck. I had been used to seeing it on the teachers, so I was familiar with how the chain looked compared to other necklaces, but I hadn’t anticipated students could also wear it. She had it mostly tucked underneath her shirt, but I was certain the necklace was the same sapphire necklace that now haunted me.

I stared at my desk, feeling the hair on my skin rise. I tried to convince myself it was all coincidence, but I knew coincidences were things of the past now. She was connected to the teachers. I didn’t know if this meant she was a monster nor did I want to find out, but that didn’t stop my mind from imagining what different creatures she might be.

Page 2

Nov

2020

The Brain School – Chapter 6

Forward

“A Slight Recovery” introduces us to Mind, a character who I knew was pivotal to the story but whose personality I had entirely forgotten. Arrogance defines him, and I imagined him to be someone who you would find on r/iamverysmart these days. As such, I wrote his dialogue to include superfluous diction and weird sentence structures. I knew such people existed out there purely because I was (and am still) one of those people.

Problematically, Mind’s dialogue comes out too stilted, much like it probably would in real life. However, sometimes realism does not translate well to paper. When I revised this chapter, I initially attempted to improve the writing, but after seeing how hard I had committed to Mind’s obnoxious presentation, I gave up. From this point forward, you will experience Mind in all of his glory.

I used to claim one of my strengths was dialogue. And by “used to,” I mean up until today. Possibly earlier. Now, I’ll just settle for, “I do dialogue good sometimes.”

Chapter 6 – A Slight Recovery

Shit.

I jolted out of my bed and crashed onto the floor, landing on my hand and knees. Woken by my fall, Tommy leapt from his bed and switched on a light.

“Oh God, they all had good grades,” I hissed through my teeth as I stared at the floor.

“Who had good grades?” Tommy asked as he knelt by me. “What are you talking about?”

I almost started to explain, but then I remembered last night. He hadn’t believed me then, so why would he believe me now.

“It’s nothing; you wouldn’t believe me,” I grumbled.

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up defensively. “I was just trying to help. What time is it?” He snatched his watch from his dresser and checked it. “Thank God it’s past six. Don’t know what I’d do if I was stuck with you longer.”

“Same here, same here,” I replied, glaring up at him.

“What the hell, Warren?” Tommy burst angrily. “What’s with this sudden anger and paranoia lately? If this is about that stupid thing last night, well, then you’re an idiot.”

He turned away. Sitting myself on my bed again, I stared at the floor as Tommy dressed quickly. My blood boiled every time I caught him glancing at me.

“When you’re thinking clearly, Warren, maybe we can talk then,” he grumbled when he had dressed. He trudged out the room.

“I’ll do the same for you when you’re thinking clearly,” I murmured as I gazed at the closed door. My contempt was strong, but when I realized I was alone, it disappeared and fear replaced it. Every slight shadow in the room hid an unknown beast biding its time to mutilate and kill me. I slid under my covers and pulled them over my head, hoping all of it would leave me alone.

Enclosed by the thick layers of my blankets, I waited for the monsters to get me. The minutes passed, but as the heat accumulated under the blankets, no monsters came. I waited a few more minutes, holding my breath for that awful moment. It didn’t come.

“What am I doing?” I mumbled. If the monsters weren’t going to get me then, I had to worry about the teachers and my grades

Oh my grades. All those students who were taken away held the top academic rankings in the school, and with them murdered and removed from our roster, the opportunity to have the top grades just became easier. I could remember my grades by heart, and I cursed myself when I realized why. I had straight A’s and not low ones either. If I kept my grades as they stood now, I wouldn’t have much longer before Ms. Risped called me to her office.

I would have to rely on past methods. I would have to go back to failing purposely. I let out a pained sigh into the blankets covering my head. After enjoying success, I would have to revert to my old ways. I guess the system hadn’t changed that much for me. It just added something from hell to kill me on the way. Not much of a difference between the two.

Monsters, they looked so corny in the movies, but in real life, they weren’t remotely that. What did Ms. Risped call herself again? Lekthin. She called herself Lekthin. She even mentioned that it was a race. A race? Could a whole society of monstrous beings exist without humans ever knowing? It was too stupid to believe, and right now, I felt stupidly scared.

I forced my mind to stop thinking. If I kept it up, I would only traumatize myself even more, and I would never leave my bed. That would lead teachers to come find me because I missed class. Crap, I was thinking again.

I literally rolled myself out of bed to get me going. I plopped on the floor with a thump. I crawled over to my dresser. Propping myself on an arm, I opened up the drawers and pulled out some clothes. If they matched, I neither knew nor cared. I just needed the necessities to move on, and right now, stylish clothes seemed a luxury.

I stood up shakily and moved to the bathroom. Inside, the person in the mirror looked ghastly. My face resembled a skeleton, dark bags making my eyes look sunken in. When I looked into my eyes, I saw a person uncontrollably scared. Tommy was right; I had changed. It just took two gory deaths and a couple monsters to change.

Miserable, I exited the bathroom, snatched my wallet from my pants on the floor, and went out of my dorm. I thought I could handle myself outside my dorm, but I overestimated myself. Every step taken away from my dorm pounded a nail into my courage. I knew nowhere was safe, but I longed to return to my bed. Unconsciousness was preferable to whatever feeling I had. I almost ran back, but to keep myself going, I thought of the worse consequences that could befall me.

I almost mastered my fears when I came upon a teacher. I didn’t even know the guy, but as I passed by him, my emotions erupted in ten million different ways. The images of Wendy’s and Allison’s mangled bodies flashed in my mind. I relived the moments in which my teacher and principal mutated from human to beast to human again. My emotional stability exploded. Unable to hold my ground, I fled to a set of bleachers in the gym and sat as far away from people as possible.

“How can I survive this when I can’t even look at a teacher?” I seethed into my hands. “Why was it me? Why do I have to go to this school?”

A few minutes passed, and the flashbacks receded, leaving only a sickened feeling behind. I wiped my cheeks, not knowing I had been crying. Both the emotional and logical parts of my brain attempted to reboot to a working status. After unsteadily getting back to my feet, I stumbled off the bleachers and back into the crowded part of the gym and trudged toward the cafeteria.

Getting breakfast never seemed as hard as it did on that day. The sight of the cafeteria crew triggered my imagination to create their monster forms. That caused my adrenaline to rise which in turn caused me to tremble uncontrollably. If a staff member saw me like that, only bad could come from it. With all my might, I swallowed my fear and stopped my quivering long enough to order my food. After getting that, I released my hold and jittered around the cafeteria to find a table.

“Hey Warren, over here!” In reply, I almost screamed, but I realized it was only Butch who had called out to me. He sat alone at a table in the corner of cafeteria, waving to me to come over. His spot suited my mood so I quickly weaved around tables to him.

“You look terrible, Warren,” Butch said once I had sat down.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I mumbled sarcastically as I checked over my shoulder subconsciously. Seeing nothing, I glanced down at my plate of toast and eggs. My stomach roared for it, but my brain roared against it.

I jabbed a fork into a scrambled egg and shoved a forkful into my mouth before my brain could retaliate. I chewed and swallowed. Reacting to the food, my mind formed a memory of Ms Risped eating Wendy. The egg came sliding back up my throat. Before it released, I sealed my mouth shut and placed a hand over it.

“You okay, man?” asked Butch, eyeing me as I entered a coughing fit to swallow the egg once more. “Is something stuck in your throat?” He reached over and started patting my back, only to increase the difficulty of swallowing the food. I attempted to wave him off, but he misinterpreted the signal and slapped my back harder. I finally managed to swallow the egg and breathe outwards to tell Butch to stop.

I looked at the rest of my food and wondered how I could get any more of it down. “Here Butch, take my food,” I sighed. “I’ll just have a piece of toast.” I grabbed a triangular piece of bread off my plate and passed the platter to Butch’s awaiting hands.

I remembered the conversation with Butch the night before. Nibbling on my bread carefully, I mulled over the idea of telling him what happened since I promised I would. I couldn’t break a promise. “Do you remember what we talked about last night, Butch?”

“We spoke to each other last night?” Butch asked puzzled.

“Yeah…I told you I would tell you what happened to Wayne immediately once I figured out what happened.” Doubts began to rise in my mind.

“That was nice of you to say that to me, but I don’t think it would matter, Warren,” he sighed as his shoulders drooped. “I don’t even know how long I’ll remember Wayne. Even now his image is fading.” He stopped fiddling with his food and looked into my eyes. “I know why you have been giving me your food lately. If you eat the food, you slowly lose your mind, your humanity-”

“Okay, okay, Butch,” I interrupted as all my hopes withered and died. “Believe it or not, I heard you say this speech last night.”

“Oh,” he replied surprised. “Well, at least I know I’m right about forgetting.”

I let my head fall and hit the table. I ignored the pain and covered my head with my arms as I heaved a wretched breath. The one guy who might have believed my experiences had short-term memory loss. Probably didn’t help I was giving him more food. I shook my head against the table in disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” Butch questioned cautiously. “Was it something I said?”

“Nothing’s wrong, man,” I mumbled, picking my head up off the table. “I just don’t feel very happy right at the moment.” To avoid further tedious conversation, I glanced down at my watch and said, “I have to get to class, Butch. I’ll see you around.” I sprang from my seat and exited the cafeteria as fast as my legs would take me. I didn’t want to deal with a brain-dead idiot.

I hurried back to my dorm and gathered some supplies together. I did have to go to class, and Ms. Deuce was up next. As I headed to her room, I fortunately encountered no teachers, but my mood never strayed from terror. I had yet to actually survive one class.

When I entered my first classroom, I released a sigh of relief when I saw the teacher wasn’t in. Without waiting for one, I hurried to the back of the room. Ms. Deuce had a hobby of bothering every table, but the back seemed safer. My spirits rose when I found the farthest table deserted. I sat myself at a chair, feeling the stress exude from my pores and leave me.

“Hey Warren, what are you doing all the way over there?” called one of my friends from the other side of the room. He, along with some other friends, sat at a table close to the front of the room. How could they stand sitting so close to Ms. Deuce when underneath that fake hide lurked a monster? How did I ever manage to do the same?

“Uh… I feel kind of sick today,” I sputtered. I pulled a smile timidly. “I don’t want to get any of you sick, that’s all.”

“Nonsense,” he responded as he stood up from his table and came to me. He grabbed my supplies in one arm and hoisted me up with the other. “If you’re sick, spread the love and let us cut class, too.” As he continued to look at my pained face, his cheery grin faded. “God, you do look sick. What do you think you have?”

“I have no idea,” I replied miserably. I watched mournfully as we neared his table. He sat me down in my usual seat before leaving for his own seat. The friends beside me, Tommy among them, greeted me enthusiastically, but I ignored their stupid banter and eyed the classroom’s door. In any second, the bell would ring.

The bell rang with a clanging shriek. It sounded like a banshee, its cry yearning to kill me. Simultaneous with the ring, the door gaped open and in strutted Ms. Deuce. On sight, my body froze and I could neither move nor speak. Images flashed through my skull of Ms. Deuce transforming into her hideous alter ego and killing the whole classroom. Blood and viscera covered the walls and tables. It took all my wits to prevent myself from becoming a blubbering mess.

“Good morning, students,” greeted Ms. Deuce in her ever-boring drawl of a voice. “We shall finish our experiment from last class. Due to the amount of trouble we experienced last time, I shall assist each table. Now, do not waste time needlessly. Please begin.”

I couldn’t believe my bad luck. She’d be coming around our tables to check our work. She’d be close to me. What could I do to avoid her? I jumped from my seat and pushed one of my friends back down to his seat when I noticed Ms. Deuce coming to our table.

“Don’t worry about it,” I gibbered awkwardly when he looked at me frustrated. “I can get the equipment. You’ve been getting them too often; it’s time that I do some work. Think this as a…” I trailed off as I shuffled away from my table as fast as possible. If my luck took a sudden turn for the better, Ms. Deuce would finish talking with my cohorts before I even made it back.

I waited at the back of the line patiently and hopeful. A large number of kids were ahead of me, gathering supplies at a relaxed rate. If this kept up, Deuce would be gone from the table by the time I got back. I glanced back at my table frequently to see if the teacher had moved on to another group of students yet. I had no such fortune; she seemed to be deep in a conversation with one of my friends. The line for the supplies seemed to be unnaturally speeding up too. My hope was quickly dying.

“What are you doing up here, Warren?” said a voice. I looked around wildly and found Tommy coming towards me with his arms full of various vials and measuring tools. “I told you I’d get all of our stuff.”

“What?” I stuttered. I checked my table, and sure enough, Ms. Deuce still jabbered on to that one kid. I swore I would kill him when I got the chance, but now I needed a way to get back to the table without getting yelled at. Ms. Deuce had a habit of chastising people who got out of their seats for no reason, and I looked like a perfect candidate for her punishing itch. I quickly formed a response in my head and spewed it out, “I just came over to help you out. Do you have anything for me to carry?”

“Nah, I’m fine. I got everything in a pretty good grasp,” Tommy replied politely. Damn, why did he have to use his manners right now?

“Please, let me help you, it looks like you might get into some trouble,” I pleaded, reaching for a few measuring cups.

Tommy dodged my hands. “I got it, dude; leave the stuff.” He stormed back to the table angrily. I cursed Tommy for his ignorance. Why did this have to happen to me?

I sluggishly meandered back to my table. Tommy was already passing equipment to each of our table members as Ms. Deuce observed with slight amusement. My chair remained inelegantly away from the table as I had left it. Luckily, it stood out far enough from Ms. Deuce’s vision. I swiftly lunged into my chair and casually scooted closer to the table. I began to busy myself with the experiment immediately so I could avoid attention from the others.

“So…Mr. Bent, where have you been?” questioned a voice that chilled my blood. I jerked my head to look into the eyes of Ms. Deuce. She stood above me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Well? Let’s have your excuse.”

“I-I-I got up to help carry supplies over here, ma’am, but I didn’t notice Tommy had already gotten the supplies,” I stammered meekly.

“So although you noticed Mr. Bean, you arrived in your seat after he did?”

“Uh…yes.” I stared timidly up into her cold eyes. Could she kill me now, in front of everyone? “It’s the truth; I promise you.”

Ms. Deuce clamped a hand down on my shoulder. My nervous system went haywire on contact. My body trembled as Ms. Deuce leaned her head to meet mine and whisper, “Well, I don’t really care; just don’t get out of your seat for any nonproductive reason. You understand?”

Her cold, heartless stare scrambled my brain. Both my mind and stomach did back flips. Breathing came out in wretched, hoarse gasps. I couldn’t understand or create anything with my current brain status. Only instinct could get me to choke out, “Yes.”

“Good.” Ms. Deuce let go of my shoulder and let me slump in my chair. My breathing returned almost simultaneously with the release of her grip. “I expect better of you, Mr. Bent.” She smirked and walked away from our table.

Out of my whole table, only Tommy saw the incident that took place between Ms. Deuce and me. When met with my pleading eyes, he averted his gaze and hurriedly set to work on his science paper. The rest didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

Gradually, I could sense my abilities coming back to me. My stress and fear dissipated. When I could handle it, I occupied myself with my class work. Despite my emotional and mental pain, I knew I had to keep at my work and not anger Ms. Deuce anymore. I just had to do not too well. I carefully placed mistakes – a slight miscalculation here and there – on my science paper to ensure my descent to from a 4.0.

Time crept along painfully but steadily. Ms. Deuce’s class ended and Mr. Ripner’s boring ordeal began. Although I never collided with the teacher, my fears weren’t as painful. I no longer shook within his presence, and I never felt close to an emotional breakdown. I exited his class when the bell rang in a slightly happier mood. Lunch went fine as well. I socialized with my friends and reassured them that, despite my sickly look, I felt fine.

“Man, when I first saw you come in the cafeteria, Warren, I thought Death was hanging over your shoulder,” Eli chuckled.

“I believe I felt that way too for a moment,” I joked emptily.

I finished my half of the meal discreetly. I gave the rest to various kids at the table to eat. They thanked me graciously and wolfed down the food. I studied their eating habits and growing weight. Butch was becoming a hulking mass and Silas was growing ever so flabby now. Only Tommy didn’t seem to change; his build remained normal as well as did his eating habits.

Our hate for each other hadn’t yet settled. At that moment, he sat on the other side of the lunch table glaring at me. He was the only one who knew why I looked so ghastly and why I so charitably gave away my food. It puzzled me why he didn’t forget as easily as the rest, or why he didn’t use my grim stories as gossip. I brought my gaze over to him. His glower didn’t change despite my friendly smile.

I turned my head away from Tommy. Similarly, I turned away from the table’s conversation and shifted my body to face the whole cafeteria.

Page 2

Sep

2020

The Brain School – Chapter 5

Forward

I was probably 14 when I wrote this chapter. By this point, I had consumed a fair amount of horror literature, but horror movies and video games terrified me so intensely that I avoided them completely. My parents still shielded me from the M- and R-ratings, which further preserved my childhood innocence. I adored the gore and the monsters, but I was so far removed from them.

As such, it baffles and irks me that I unknowingly wrote one of the most exploitative and cliché death scenes in my book. My untarnished mind could have created something unique, something pure. Instead, it followed the tropes of the most stereotypical slasher films.

Although we know that other students have died prior to us meeting Allison and Wendy, it is these two who get to push to plot forward with their gruesome murders. They are powerless, given little character development apart from emotional distress, and then ditched unceremoniously once Warren has gotten his fill of trauma. One is even molested, for shit’s sake.

Their sole purpose is to demonstrate the utter depravity and cruelty of the monsters. In this sense, I believe I was effective, but that means little in the grand scheme of things. You can effectively scare a stranger by screaming suddenly in their ear, but the action is cheap and unlikely to be appreciated.

As I remember later sections of this book, I know I’ll dread how I depict my main female character. The Brain School only ever cared most about Warren, and most other characters were simply set pieces for his development. I won’t blame young Solomon for being inherently racist, sexist, and otherwise prejudiced, but I will thank him for not showing his book to everyone.

That would’ve been embarrassing to a past me. Now, I can pretend to cringe with you.

Chapter 5 – The Spiral Downward to Hell

I pushed past crowds of loitering kids as I moved toward the stairs. Already, I could see Mann and Deon escorting the Sands twins to the spiral staircase. Instinctually, I ducked behind a group of kids as the two teachers checked for followers before descending after the Sands twins. My body knew before my brain that I needed to be discreet.

After waiting a few seconds, I approached the iron staircase. My heart beat rapidly as I looked down into the void and waited for the echoes of footsteps to disappear. When I could no longer hear them, I ventured into the shadows. I moved slowly and lightly so my shoes made barely any sound against the metal of the staircase. The descent seemed unbearably long, but I subconsciously knew I would appreciate my decision later.

Finally, my feet touched ground. At this late hour, few lights were on in the hallway. The greatest source of light came nearby from the cracks of a barely open door, the door to Ms Risped’s office. Nervously, I crept a little closer to the door and strained to hear what was inside. I could hear voices faintly but no precise words. Frightened but determined, I crawled to the door and peered inside through the thin cracks.

I had never seen the inside of the office before, but it wasn’t much. A large oak wood desk with a swivel chair dominated the room. The rest was pretty barren although I couldn’t quite see the far left corner of the room due to my position.

Ms. Risped sat in the swivel chair as she looked on at Deon and Mann. The men held the Sands twins. I could only see their backs, but I could sense both girls were terrified.

“-so take the other one to him once I decide who I’ll take,” Ms. Risped commanded her two teachers. “We shall use the next child for experiments, but for now we must address Cowan’s and my diet. There is no reason to worry about Jakes and Hines simply because early tests are failing rapidly.

“I won’t be long in choosing,” she continued, getting up from her chair. A wry smile glared brilliantly off her face as she approached the Sands girls. With each step, the girls trembled violently. I, too, shivered as the teacher neared.

“I’ll take this one,” Ms. Risped said casually, pointing at the girl on the left. “What is your name, honey?”

“Wendy,” stuttered the girl.

“Wendy…” Risped restated, rolling the name in her mouth, “Why don’t you come stand by me, darling? You will be staying with me.”

Both Sands girls glanced at each other. Terror had turned both mute. They seemed to know they wouldn’t be seeing each other again, yet they couldn’t bring themselves to show emotion.

“Wait, Ms. Risped,” Mann spoke as Wendy moved toward Ms. Risped. The principal looked up quietly. “The cafeteria staff has observed a number of kids not eating their full meals. It is possible some students have begun to question the food. How should we deal with this?”

“Do not worry,” Risped replied. “We expected this behavior, did we not? If it seems matters are worsening later, we will alert the Student Watchers. Until then, we do not need to fret about possibilities.”

“So be it,” Mann mumbled, sounding disappointed and worried. He grasped Allison’s shoulder and turned with Deon to the door. Cursing silently, I slid away as quickly as possible.

“Wait,” called Ms. Risped. I imagined both men were turning around again to face Ms. Risped. Creeping back to the door, I found I was right. “I want Allison to stay a while longer,” Risped continued, a smile glittering on her face as she hugged Wendy closer to her.

“A little entertainment?” Deon inquired lightly.

“You could say that.” The two of them chuckled quietly. Mann and the two girls remained somber and still.

“What’s wrong?” Ms. Risped snapped when she realized Mann’s restraint. “Do you have a problem with my decision, Bodie?” Mann flinched.

“Yes,” he stated, his head bowing. “I do not think it right to do this in front of another child. It might come back to haunt us.”

“What do you mean by ‘right’?” shouted Ms. Risped, causing Mann to shudder again. “Are you referring to human morals or to ours? Regardless of which, why are we considering them now, Bodie? Of all times?”

Both the Sands twins and Mann shifted uncomfortably as she continued, “And this would return to haunt us? Last time I checked, we are the “haunts,” are we not, Bodie?” She laughed bitterly. “What do we have to fear when we are the ones who cause it? Have you forgotten that, or has being a P.E. coach made you scared of teenagers?”

She sneered and turned to Wendy. Her hands clamped her hands, and suddenly the girl was thrown across the room. As Wendy’s body collided and cracked against the wall on the other side of the office, the blood drained from me, and I felt cold and terrified. Risped had looked like the woman who could break a ruler but not a teenager’s body, but Wendy was now sprawled on the floor, even more disoriented than I was.

“Wendy!” Allison cried out as she tried to run over to her sister’s body. Deon slapped one hand over her mouth and pulled his other around her waist before she escape his grasp.

He hissed something into the girl’s ear which made her sob louder. Her reaction pleased him; a smile flashing on his face. He muffled a laugh as Ms. Risped sauntered over to Wendy. The crash had confused the girl, but she was still lucid enough to understand the situation. She whimpered.

Ms. Risped reached behind her neck and unclipped the sapphire necklace. She tossed the piece of jewelry on top of her desk. As she stood over the child’s body, her skin began to bubble. Although both Allison and I squirmed at the sight, the teachers were focused on Wendy. Mann had not moved, seemingly emotionless. Deon’s smirk seemed to burn as Risped’s skin did the same.

Wendy managed to lift her head to stare up at the principal, and her eyes dilated when she caught sight of the boiling skin. She began crying, stammering something I could not catch from my position. Allison tried to cry for help again, but all I could hear is her choke into Deon’s hand. He and Mann meanwhile continued to remain calm. I held my hands over my mouth, fearful I would lose it at any moment. A voice in the back of my head screamed that I shouldn’t be there.

Ms. Risped stood over Wendy. “Pathetic thing,” the woman growled abnormally as her face began to sag. “It shall end soon; I promise you that.”

“Why?” Wendy whined timidly. She looked up at Ms. Risped pleadingly. “Why are you doing—”

Ms. Risped pointed a fizzing hand down at the girl’s face. The hand exploded, showering its near surroundings in skin and blood. In place of her hand hung a black, hairy paw, equipped with long, thick claws. Wendy screamed.

Laughing quietly, Ms. Risped inexplicably launched a bulb of white material from her new hand at Wendy. The substance engulfed the girl’s face, silencing her completely. Only an eye was barely uncovered; her mouth and nose had no openings. I retched silently into my palms.

Risped stopped laughing as her body went through a final metamorphosis. Her white skin slowly darkened into a rough black hide covered with coarse hair. Her ebony clothes melded with her skin and disappeared completely. Her normal hand morphed to match the opposite while her body elongated and became centaur-like in shape. Four new stubs grew from the lower portion of her body until they were the same length as her original two legs. All six appendages then became spindly, ending with spear-like points. Around her entire body, stripes of red streaked the small hairs. Most horrible, the thing’s head changed: black hair grew; teeth sharpened and elongated; the lower jaw extended; large, red crystalline eyes replaced the pupils; the ears and nose disappeared entirely.

The movement stopped. In the stillness, a massive spider-like monster had replaced my principal.

I almost wet my pants. Only by biting down on my lip did I control both my bladder and my voice. The twins fared worse. Deon’s hand stopped the anguished screams of Allison while Wendy writhed on the floor. Amused, Deon smirked and watched the spectacle. Mann remained sullen.

With quick, deliberate movements, Ms Risped scurried to Wendy and began to gorge herself. The razor-sharp ends of her legs tore the girl’s body as her hands clawed handfuls of flesh and bone and shoveled them into her gruesome maw. All that went in the principal’ mouth disintegrated as her jaws worked through both meat and bone.

Within a couple of minutes, only blood and a few scattered pieces of meat and bone remained splattered across the room. Finished, the monster went about cleaning herself, running a long, thick black tongue across her claws and fur daintily.

Tears streamed down Allison’s face as she knelt on the floor. She mourned for her sister quietly, unable to scream through her ragged throat. Deon, meanwhile, cleaned the vomit from his fingers with a handkerchief. It took only her vomit to release her from his grasp, but it came too late. Her sister was already dead.

Outside, I paced in circles as I kept a hand on my mouth. My stomach signaled it needed to puke, but I knew I couldn’t. The nausea shifted into dizziness as I continued walking. Each step became increasingly unstable. Unable to continue, I rested against the wall again and looked inside the office.

Ms. Risped was trying to slip the sapphire necklace back over her head with her grotesque claws. Clumsily, she managed to fumble it around her neck. Just like minutes before, I witnessed her morph again. Black fur bubbled back into cream, smooth skin. Four legs squeezed back into the abdomen. The abdomen itself disintegrated, and a black dress grew out of nowhere to replace it. Claws and spiked feet returned to hands and high-heeled shoes. The face changed from the hideous spider to the snide, beautiful face of the human principal.

In barely two minutes—the same amount of time it took to eat Wendy—Ms. Risped had morphed from a behemoth spider to a normal person. Not a single feature looked out of place nor did a single speck of blood stain her person. If it wasn’t for Wendy’s gory remnants, a passerby would suspect nothing.

I pressed my hands to my face and wept a few tears in silence. In my head, the traumatic event recurred again and again. I had never seen more than a few drops of blood in my life before then. To think, my teachers were gigantic spiders in disguise, slowing eating us one by one. How preposterous was that? It was laughable, but I could only cry. I choked down my sobs, too afraid to make any sound. As I wiped away my tears, I looked into the office one last time.

“I shall call the custodial crew immediately,” I heard Ms. Risped say casually. She took a seat behind her desk as she continued, “You two deliver the girl to Cowan before they get here. I believe she has seen enough.”

“Yes ma’am,” the two teachers replied in unison. Mann approached Allison and gingerly lifted the crying girl into his arms. He went back to Deon, and together they made their way to the door—

Crap! I was no longer just a witness in this. If I didn’t move in the next few seconds, I would be the next stage of the slaughter. But where could I go? I couldn’t make it up the stairs in time, could I? No, the classrooms were a much safer bet, but who could I go to? Who could I trust? The name, “Drake,” crossed my mind, and without thinking, I dashed off to his room.

As I ran down the hallway, I never happened to recall that Mr. Drake also wore a sapphire necklace or his one emotional outbreak. At the wrong time, I chose to look at the good traits of people. Entirely oblivious, I crashed into Mr. Drake’s history room just as Mann and Deon were exiting Risped’s room.

Darkness closed around me when I shut the door. Panting heavily, I let my eyes adjust to the black. As the room’s shapes became defined, I noticed desks and chairs but no Mr. Drake. It seemed odd. The teacher was out, but the room was left unlocked. Either the teachers of this school had a lax security policy or, by some stroke of luck, I chose the right class to hide in.

I could hear steps approaching. Frightened, I scampered behind Drake’s large oak desk. Since it faced the doorway and had a long front, it would be my best cover. Just as I had tucked myself under the desk’s overhang, the footsteps stopped, followed by the grating of the doorknob being twisted and the door being creaked open. From the small open space under the desk, I recognized the feet of Deon, Mann, and Allison.

“It doesn’t seem Cowan is in,” Mann muttered softly.

“Really?” snapped Deon. “What gave you that impression?”

I cursed silently under my breath. I had come upon the room of Cowan Drake, Allison’s soon-to-be murderer. Years of ignoring my teachers’ first names had come back to bite me. I had to make a run for it as soon as they all left.

“What’s that, Deon?” called a distant voice from the hallway. I swore again when I recognized it belonged to Drake.

“There you are,” replied Deon. Under the desk, I could see another pair of feet join the group. “You were next on the list, so this one’s yours.”

“How gracious of Risped to allow me my turn,” Drake scoffed. “I thought she promised there would be enough children for all of us to eliminate our fasting schedules. In fact, I ate more when I wasn’t part of this school.”

“Drake,” cut in Mann, “you know yourself that this school is not meant to satisfy your every craving. The serum is our main priority.”

“Don’t treat me as if I am stupid, Mann,” Drake hissed. “I know what is happening. I just hope that serum is finished damn soon.” He mumbled something incoherent. “Fine, I’ll take this ‘gift,’ but please, give me some privacy at least.”

Deon and Mann grunted in reply, and their feet disappeared from my view. The door closed soon afterward, taking with it most of the light. Drake didn’t turn on the lights. As my eyes readjusted again, I listened to Allison and his footsteps travel to the opposite side of the room. Finding safety in the dark and in the distance, I popped my head over the desk to see what was happening.

“Do not be afraid, Allison,” Drake cooed gently, “you are in good hands now. I know what you have seen, and I will do none of that to you.”

Allison said nothing, only trembled.

“Allison, it’s okay,” he reassured as he put his hands on her shoulders. “Everything is fine now.”

Urged by his forceful pull, Allison hesitantly rested her head against Drake’s chest as he closed his arms around her. Her head was situated so she would be looking at me, but in the dark, she was unable to clearly see my head. Instead, she only stared blankly at the wall behind me, and to Drake, she replied, “She killed my sister…tore her apart…how—how…”

“How? How?” Drake answered softly. “She acted naturally, like I am about to now.” As he finished speaking, one of his hands slid off of Allison’s back and went in front of him. Clutching her tightly with his other arm, Drake’s hand went forward, faltered for a second, and then wriggled up Allison’s shirt. Allison broke away from her trance and yelped as Drake began to fondle her. Unable to fight or run for help, I could only watch with burning loathing as Drake’s hand moved over Allison’s body.

“W-what are you doing, Mr. Drake?” Allison cried as she tried vainly to twist from his grip. “Stop it!”

“No, Allison, I shall not,” he whispered spitefully into her ear as he hugged her closer. “Just be good, and it’ll be over soon.”

Using his free hand, Drake locked her into a position in which her back faced him. Freeing his wandering hand from her clothes, the teacher carefully removed his necklace and placed it on a desk. Returning his hand back into Allison’s clothes, Drake released a guttural laugh as his body began to ripple.

The scene looked as if it would make Ms Risped’s ordeal look pleasant. Seeing my teacher molest a student was horrifying enough; imagining him as a spider-like monster in the same situation was even more traumatizing. My body wanted me to look away, but no matter how disgusting the scene was, my brain wouldn’t let me budge.

Early on in Drake’s transformation, I could already tell I had made a terrible prediction about his appearance. Instead of growing extra limbs and body parts, his body retained its shape and grew larger. His clothes disappeared as he became taller, and his muscles expanded to unnatural proportions. Veins bulged from his paling skin as his feet and hands sprouted longer, sharper nails. Glowing red eyes replaced his old ones while long pointy ears did likewise; hair crumbled until none remained on his body; and his canines extended to viper-like proportions while his other teeth became sharper.

Two stumps on his back rose and broke through the skin, revealing bone. Those two bones then grew and broke apart to make the ligaments of two wide wings. Gray skin materialized along the newly-grown bone, and leathery flaps connected the hanging joints.

Page 2

Sep

2020

Barbie’s Bendable, Posable, and Oh So Moldable Body

She stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, glowering at her reflection. With her deep red lipstick and striking black eyeshadow, her scowl could smolder any of her thirsty fans. Given the right lighting and a tight top, her ample cleavage could ensnare her viewers. Paired with a spandex miniskirt and fishnet stockings, her thighs could squeeze everything out of their wallets.

She called this appearance, “Thicc Bitch,” and thousands would watch her every night as she streamed horror games. She would squeal and giggle at each jump scare, jiggling to keep their eyes on her. Rumors of an OnlyFans debut had tripled her revenue for the past month. These horndogs had single-handedly funded her condo.

She cursed at her reflection and began to remove this identity. She kneaded the fat on her body, pinching off clumps and discarding them in a box at her feet. She slimmed her face, toned her arms and stomach, and sculpted her breasts to be petite and perky. She pulled at her limbs and stretched her back, her body lengthening.

Once finished, “Alyssa Sparkle, Health and Positivity Guru” posed in front of the mirror. Her sneer remained. On her channel, her valley girl demeanor would peddle gluten-free dishes, natural medicines, and the newest sponsored products. These shams would all end up in her garbage, but thousands more would end up in the bedrooms and kitchens of her adoring housewife audience.

Alyssa Sparkle gave her Sparkle Girls hope that they could maintain a slender figure and a tight ass after their thirties had slipped away. They bought into and propagated her pyramid schemes. They loved the squeaky-clean, vapid act.

The woman that was Alyssa Sparkle would use the ad revenue and endorsements to order delivery food for every meal. She had purchased a house in suburbia and filled it with designer furniture. It was a home only for Alyssa Sparkle and her snake oils, broadcasting every Thursday and Sunday afternoon. The bed never needed to be made.

She began rubbing her body again, her flesh a clay to mold. She flicked her nails across her face, sweeping away the age and ushering in the youth. She took handfuls of fat from the box and squeezed it together, forming muscle. She pulled it into strands and laid them along her arms, legs, and abs. She buffed her skin with her palms, rubbing away any definition that could intimidate the boys.

Unlike the plastic Barbie Sparkle, this appearance was modeled after the girl next door. Natural, athletic, sexy. The one who makes the men pause when browsing the dating sites. She did not have a name for this one, but the Internet had called her a vigilante, a lunatic, a predator. “The Honey Pot” was popular among her followers.

With this identity, she catfished all manner of online creeps. Murderers, rapists, abusers. She’d toy with them, molding her body to fit their exact specifications. A dainty foot there. A freckled navel for one. Cartoonishly-large breasts for many others. She’d allow them to invite her to a secluded location. They’d find the girl next store, without any of her embellishments, but by that point she had them. She’d coo over them until they believed they had the upper-hand, and then she’d kill them. She’d take selfies in front of their castrated corpses, sending her beaming face to throwaway social media accounts.

Her face appeared on news stations, wanted ads, and fan websites. The marks still never seemed to catch on. It didn’t matter if they or someone else did. She could abandon this look as she had countless others.

She sighed, her frown falling to a grimace. She clawed her face and body, raking wrinkles into her skin. Excess flesh hung from her arms and cheeks, and the skin along her body grew translucent, green veins breaching from underneath. Her hair thinned and grayed as she combed it. She tapped her body, moles speckling the surface.

In the reflection, her mother leered at her. Her eyes bore through her skin, dismantling the identities that she used to hide herself. In the mass of furrows and creases that made her face, her mouth was a flat, thin line, just another cruel wrinkle. The reflection watched the naked woman as she trembled. Only the mother saw who her daughter truly was, and she only felt disgust.

She clutched herself, running her hands along her body. She smoothed out the wrinkles, sloughing off the excess skin and letting it sag to the floor. She cut hard against her bone, pulling her flesh even tighter. She gripped her scalp and ripped out the remaining strands of her hair. Her hands fell down her face, massaging away her eyebrows, nose, and lips.

She lifted her head. In the mirror, a skeletal creature shook, sexless, featureless. Its eyes had sunk into its skull. It had none of the characteristics of the women in her catalogues, search histories, or photo albums. It had no history carved in its body.

She no longer remembered who she once was, how she had looked. She only knew what she wasn’t.

She looked away from the mirror, positioning her back toward it. She wiped a film of skin across her mouth and nose holes. Cupping her face in her hands, she pulled the skin from her forehead over her eyelids, sealing them shut.

She collapsed to the floor, cushioned by the clothes of other people. She pulled her knees to her chest and cocooned herself under an overcoat. She would try to sleep.

The next day, three other women would greet the world with smiles.

Author’s Note: This story was written in a state of frustration due to the failure of another story in a recent contest. This story is based off a short story I wrote in 2010, the second I submitted to an online magazine when I was about to graduate high school. It was rejected.

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