-- Just a short story idea I came up with. I was first joking around with my friends about how I could write a story of a tornado wiping out a bunch of kids. I ended up taking a closer look at the idea and tweaked it a bit.--

Enmity

It was a rainy day with thunder clouds scattered about the smoke stained sky. The rain and thunder had been producing enough sound to drown out the voices of Tipton's local high school teachers. A few students were straining to hear the lecture, furious that the storm had interrupted their note taking, but the majority laid back in their seats, enjoying the break from Mrs. Penn's nagging voice.

One student, however, was doing neither of these things. Instead, he had his notebook open, and was drawing a variety of violent scenes involving people who he didn't take too kindly to, which was just about everyone he'd ever came into contact with. Most people at Enmity High considered him to be mentally unstable. They'd pass him by in the hallways and shout things such as, “psycho” among other, even less kind names. He could no longer remember a time when he didn't carry this reputation of being some crazy kid with him. It was true that he'd finally grown used to how others viewed him, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold a grudge against them. Just because he no longer had outbursts at the random students who insulted him in the halls, didn't mean he didn't get ticked off about it. He had been shoving his rage inside of a small box and whoever was near that box when it finally burst open would be scarred for life.

As Mrs. Penn droned on about how she interpreted a poem, the school's speakers suddenly clicked on and the ears of many students were greeted with a nervous, almost frantic voice. “Staff and s-s-,” she stuttered. It was easy to tell that she was trying to calm herself with the deep breaths she was taking in. Her panic-stricken voice alarmed the teenagers, and they gave their friends a look of confusion. As the woman began to speak the room was completely silent. “Staff and students... I need you all to get outside and go to the storm shelter. There's been a report of a tornado coming our way. We haven't been informed of how strong it is, but from what we've heard it's bad.”

As soon as this announcement had been made, the 'crazy' teenager bolted up from his seat and darted out of the room. Mrs. Penn look shocked for a moment before yelling, “Eric? Where do you think you're going? Get back in here!” He pretended not to hear and continued to make his way outside. Some students still seated in the classroom muttered things like “what an idiot” under their breath. 'We'll see who the idiots are,” Eric thought to himself with a smirk.
Once he was through the school doors, he shielded his eyes from the dirt that was being blown his way by the high winds. He shivered and stepped over to the storm shelter door. Putting a hand into his pocket, he would dig around until he discovered what he was looking for; the janitor's master key. He'd stolen it quite a while ago, but never thought he'd be able to put it into that great of use. Yet now he was being given a perfect opportunity to use this to get revenge on everyone who'd ever wronged him. Now would be the day Enmity High payed for their sins. Eric's smirk only widened at the thought, and he quickly shoved the key into the door's keyhole, turning it until he heard a soft click. He carelessly threw the key behind him, happy with himself for coming up with something so genius. Now no one in the school would be able to enter the storm shelter and they'd all get blown away by the tornado. 'What a shame,” he mused.
As he turned around to step back into the school, he suddenly froze in his place. The realization that he'd just locked himself out of the storm shelter as well, hit him like a pile of bricks. 'Oh God, I'm an idiot... I think... I threw the key somewhere over there,” Eric thought, panicking. He sprinted over to the area where he'd tossed the key and looked around for it, desperately. The wind was blowing so hard now that it felt like it was now slapping him for being so foolish. His hands ran across the razor-blade grass as he felt around for the key. He attempted to look for it with his eyes, as well, but the dirt blinded him whenever he opened them. 'What was I thinking?' was the only rational thought that was running through his mind.

Eric stood outside against the harsh winds for what seemed like eternity to him. As he finally pulled his hands away from the ground, he brushed the dirt away from himself and shook his head. It looked like the wind had grasped onto the key and taken it far away from him.

Once the realization of how he'd probably be faced with the same fate of the key came crashing down upon him, he buried his face into his hands and fought the urge to sob. Was this what he'd been about to do to all of those students? Make them become this terrified? How could he have ever been so cruel and thoughtless? Even though they had been mean to him, it was nothing compared to what he'd done. 'I am crazy,' he finally concluded. He didn't even have enough energy left to laugh at this thought, now. Every ounce of his energy had now been drained away, and he collapsed onto the ground, thinking it pointless to attempt to get away from the twister.

It occurred to him, now, that soon his fellow students would be outside and encounter the same terrifying thoughts of death he was being faced with. They'd all know immediately who had locked the door, and it was possible that he might even be able to escape the wrath of the violent storm which was slowly approaching the school, by instead, getting murdered by his classmates. 'Can't blame them,' Eric thought, bitterly.

If he actually made it out of this alive, by some miracle, he'd stop being some psychotic jerk to everyone. He'd attempt to maybe improve his image in school and let the insults slide. All of the stupid insults he'd faced seemed so trivial now. Let those morons at school have their fun. It shouldn't have even bothered him.

Eric turned himself to face the door when he suddenly heard it creak open. He stood up and shook the dirt from his jet-black hair, and faced the staff member who came out. “Kid, what do you think you're doing?” came the janitor's question.
Eric sobbed into his hands and mumbled something to the man. As he was asked to repeat himself, he forced himself to calm down. After he'd finally gained his composure, he spoke, letting a few cracks slip into his speech, “Sir... I-I-I... I'm an idiot... I don't know what I was thinking. I l-l-ocked t-t-h--.” He was suddenly cut off by the janitor as he yelled, “Whatever, kid, you can tell it to me later. Let's get away from this storage closet and head to the storm shelter. The twister's getting real close now.”

I'd really apperciate any comments you've got on the story. Construcitve critism is welcome (and encouraged) but I'd like it if you could keep pointless flames to yourself. They don't exactly help me improve as a write, they only help in boosting your ego to some extent. /