I'm a young author taking a break in the world of writing. I have experience writing short stories, books, poetry, and reviews.
I work on my story for creative writing in my social studies class, acting as if I was taking notes. Everything so far today has been normal, no weird announcements, no fights, no nothing. It's a nice change.
Suddenly, alarms start blaring through the room, followed by the announcement. “Attention students and staff, this is an emergency lockdown. Repeat, an emergency lockdown. Get into hiding and don't open the doors to anyone.”
A wave of panic rushes throughout the classroom, the volume rising to be twice as loud as before.
"Everyone get behind the desk," the teacher orders, getting together the emergency bag and locking the door, but also making sure there weren't any students in the hallway.
I abandon my paper and rush to the safest spot in the room, under the desk, and behind the filing cabinet. I hope my friends will be okay.
I squish into a ball in the corner, allowing one more person to fit in next to me. Hugging my legs, I realize that I can't see a thing other than a bit of shadow.
"Be quiet," The teacher hushes, and the volume goes down a little bit, but it's still pretty noisy. They're going to get us all killed.
A gunshot's roar rings through the room, sounding like it came from down the hallway. The sound shakes the walls and I have to suppress the scream stuck in my throat.
My heart beats quicker and quicker. I don't want to die, not today.
And when someone shakes the doorknob, the room goes silent. I freeze, listening to the way the knob creaks with each movement.
“Open up! I know people are in there!” A male's voice shouts through the door. I hear the teacher's footsteps and how they're heading farther away and to the door. The class is strangely quiet, I don't know how.
The person bangs something against the door. Someone nearby winces with a small shriek, officially alerting him of our presence.
"Open up the door now and maybe I won't kill all of you."
Three long, painful seconds go by, my breath is hitched in my throat and it doesn't help that I can't see a thing. Then, another gunshot rings and metal clatters against the tile ground. The sound of the door slamming open makes me shrivel up into a tighter ball.
My visibility level goes even lower as the class scoots back tighter than before. The metal of the file cabinet is cold against my back and I feel the warmth of other people all around me.
"Weapo-" I hear my teacher shout before the bang of the gun interrupts and the sound of a body hitting the floor makes my heart sink to the ground.
Loud footsteps come closer and closer. I tuck my head in between my knees. Shutting my eyes and plugging my ears, I await my fate. My body jumps at each scream and gunshot until it is quiet.
Not only can I feel, but I can also hear how quickly my heart is beating. I can feel the blood draining from my face as I slowly lift my head up.
More light has filtered through under the desk, making it easier to see. The kid next to me is staring at the room ahead. At all the dead bodies and blood, at all the people I've known for most of my life, gone... dead...
The sight will scar me for life. Or for the last few seconds of my life at least. But why hasn’t the person next to me and I been killed yet?
It was then that I realized that something else was obstructing my view. A pair of legs right in front of me. My eyes slowly trail up the body of the psycho. Finally, I meet his dark eyes, somewhat shielded by his long, light-colored hair.
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He’s studying me, but for what?
His stare penetrates my soul until he finally says, "You two, come with me."
© 2020 EL Doll