A WEEK AFTER "THE INCIDENT":
A trio of girls saunter past PSHE's classroom, buzzing with indiscernible gossip and chitchat.
"And then, she was like 'Naur gorl, that's natsyyyy-uh' and then I was like 'Yarr bestie are you delulu?', so then-"
The girls stopped in their tracks as an awful screeching sound came from PSHE's classroom, akin to the sound of nails being dragged across a chalkboard.
"Ewww-uh!" one girl says. "That sound gives me the ick."
"Wh-what made that sound?" another girl, the one who was previously full of gossip, gasped. "This is like the beginning of a horror movie, when the main characters realise their school is haunted!"
The third girl gave her a semi-playful knock on the head. "Don't be stupid, it must be Mrs. PSHE making that sound."
Another ear-splitting screech pierced the air. The girls gritted their teeth.
PSHE was the oldest teacher in the school; always ranting and raving about her grandchildren or something or other. She was also the school's counsellor, but only losers needed counselling.
"To think we have to deal with that loony old bat for two subjects now." the third girl groaned.
"Why did Ms. Textiles have to leave?" the first girl sighed dramatically.
Meanwhile, gossip girl number two was peeking through the crack between the door and the wall.
"I think I see something! It looks like... ehm, what are those boards that you put pins on called?"
The two other girls fought to get a peek through the crack. As they observed further, from what they could see through the tiny gap, the pinboard was cluttered with pictures and post-its. PSHE dragged a pin through the material of the board.
Another screech.
"Why can't a single teacher here be normal?" the first girl whisper-groaned.
"Wait- I see something else!" the third girl whisper-exclaimed, pushing the two others to get a better view.
The other girls reciprocated the pushing, the shoving match continuing until girl number one accidentally pushed the door open. The door swung fully open with a terrifying creak.
This got PSHE's attention.
Slowly, eerily, ominously, the teacher turned from the pinboard to stare at the girls, her expression twisted into an icy glare.
For a few heartbeats, the girls were frozen.
Then, they screamed in terror, and ran as fast as their legs would carry them.
YOU ARE READING
SUBJECTBALLS (DISCONTINUED)
General Fiction(INCOMPLETE) --------------------- COVER ART BY FIGARO (@Figaro711) ART DIRECTOR/CREATOR: FIGARO WRITER/CO-CREATOR: ME PLOT DIRECTOR/CO-CREATOR: RAVEN ------------------------ Last Resort High is a haven for delinquents. This school accepts any stud...
