THERE'S A LOUD kind of quiet.
Music is bumpin', but no people's voices.
The only sound is my heart, thudding against my rib cage and my flat shoed noise.
No one is in the hall.
No one is lingering by the stalls either. I follow the signs on sticks as high as my hip. BATHROOM. HALL. BANQUET AREA.
But it's the smell.
It is wrong.
I make my way down the corridor and hope to bump into a teacher. A guard. Someone.
No one.
The music is coming from the Main Hall. Sounds like Doja Cat's song Say So.
I adjust the strap of my bag, already knowing I will be picked apart for carrying around a heavy bag --my newly straightened hair keeps landing in my eyes, and my neck itches.
Soon, I am standing in front of the double doors, so I press my hands to the cool metal latches.
And push.
Why is my heart beating so hard?
The loud melody is my new heartbeat and I let it take over. This will be a great night. I will make it a great night.
My Gratitude app told me today "To put a chokehold on my situation and bring it to submission. You are the master/mistress of your fate."
"Here goes nothing," I whisper, and slowly push in the doors.
***
It was the smell that hit me first before the lightning flashed in the big window. A long window that exposed me to the blackest night.
The tangled, bloody heap of human bodies caught my attention.
The colorful ball hanging up in the ceiling continued to spin, splashing unforgivable colors among the obviously dead crowd.
I cover my mouth in horror at the scene before me. They were heaped...piled atop one another, bodies mangled, legs and arms split or broken, lips open in a circle of horror at whatever had killed them.
The shiny white floor had smears of thick blood as if the villain had to drag the bodies one by one.
A sick thought.
Who did this?
I did not like my school, but apparently, someone hated my classmates a thousand times more.
I should go.
Like. Now.
I turn on my heels just as I hear a deep growl, similar to the rolling thunder outside.
It came from behind the wall, where there were another set of double doors.
I run, just as the door explodes and I am not interested enough to turn behind me and look. I suddenly feel weightless as arms wrap tight around my waist, whisk me up, and carry me out to some dark room.
Then the door slams.
***
A hand covers my mouth, but I bite it and turn to see that it was-
No.
Can't be.
Even my luck isn't this bad.
"John?"
We are in a tiny hall closet, probably not far from the main hall, and my mouth is covered by cool, strong hands while John, my nemesis, stares me down as if I caused this.
YOU ARE READING
A Dark and Stormy Night
Horror17-year-old Takara Jayshawn Jackson hates her new school. This is why on prom night, she begs her father to just let her skip it. When her pleas fall on deaf earsTakara finds herself at the prom. Dressed and showing plenty of thigh for the first tim...
