There In the back of the room
Who is that man?
A quick glance tells me yes
Yes, Charles,
The classroom door is still locked
I find myself backing up
Pressing against the chalkboard
Wisely impartial of the long, drawn out
Hoarse crying
On the other side of the door beside me
He does not stir
But I could have sworn he had just smiled
A chilling grip on my back
Runs down from the wall
Blood pooling from behind the board
Spills down the green opaque surface
And continues to climb steadily down in eerie contingency
Then I remember
And turn quickly, unable to hide the sheer thrill
As my eyes find emptiness where he had last stood
Moaning
Groaning
Screaming in the hall
One step short of familiar, but unrecognizable
A blast of light, the windows shatter
And curtain rips from rod
Dying rapidly in the air before me
Twisting and convulsing, writhing in a most human fashion
His face emerges
As the curtain blows by
Yes,
I was right.
He was grinning, alright