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