The Famished

Part 1

It started like a regular day at school. The scraping of chairs across hardwood flooring and the last few chirps of conversation died down to complete silence as Mr. Cross walked in through the heavy wooden door with its small rectangular window that stretched across the top.

His striped shirt was unbuttoned and rolled up to the elbows already, despite being a cool morning in September. His usually perfect salt and pepper 80's news anchor coif was uncombed, void of product and looked as though he'd missed his last appointment at the salon. The manner in which he normally carried himself had changed as well and I don't think I was the first to notice.

His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses which he pulled off of his face, wincing his blood stained blues as he staggered over to the back of the classroom to promptly drop all of the blinds to the windows with a rustling that made all of us jump. He returned to the head of the classroom to run his hand along the wall that housed the power switches to the lights, plunging the classroom into near darkness.

"Uh, Mr. Cross," Peggy Winstrom's nervous voice wobbled across the classroom nervously. "Is everything okay?"

He slumped into the chair at his desk, face hitting the wooden surface with a hollow thud. Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. Everyone was fixed on staring at the man whom nobody seemed to know was dead or alive. I looked over at the familiar face beside me, she looked over at me. "Do you think he's dead?" Anna's lower lip trembled as I shook my head and tried to comfort her.

"Don't be such a cry baby," I sighed. "When was the last time you heard of a high school teacher dying in their classroom?"

Anna's eyes widened. "You're right." She nodded, blinking back the tears. The students around us had started speaking around us, Mikey Jones, the Class Clown, had already asked if this was grounds for him to go home and quiet Kimberly picked her binder up from the desk and left, not bothering to shut the classroom door behind her.

"What are we supposed to do now?" A shrill voice piped up from the other side of the room.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up all of you little ingrates!" The deep voice came from the head of the classroom, every word grew louder and louder. We all seemed to freeze in place, our heads turning to look at the figure slowly rising from the desk at the front of the classroom.

In that light that streamed in from the hallway outside, Mr. Cross's face was pale and horribly twisted in anger. I looked over to little-miss smarty pants Peggy Winstrom, who I felt particular satisfaction in how scared she looked. It was like all her bedtime nightmares came true, Mr. Cross was probably the monster she was afraid of under her little bed.

"I bet you've never been yelled at in your life." I hissed at her.

She turned and gave me a dirty look, her eyes filled with tears. "Shut up Candice. Shut up right now or I'll-"

"Winstrom!" The voice boomed as the figure stepped around the desk and between the rows of wooden desks. Everyone seemed to lean away in their desks, trying to get as far away from him as they could. "I'd like to hear what it is you're going to do to Miss. Bailey."

Peggy's round face turned a shade of red I'd never seen as tears streaked down her freckled cheeks. "W-well, I-I'd..."

It was amazing to watch her squirm under the pressure. My nemesis was in way over her head.

"What, what is it you'd do?" He asked impatiently, his skull seemed like it was almost too big for the skin surrounding it. Every feature on his face didn't seem right. Peggy stared up at him as he approached her, petrified.

She couldn't even muster sound, tears continued to streak down her face. Anna trembled beside me. Peggy groped at the surface of her desk for whatever reason, probably trying to find words to say. All eyes were on her at that moment.