Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark

George

Hello, my name is Andrew, I live in London. I am currently twenty years old and living still with my parents. They constantly pressure me to move out of the house and find a job as I find myself doing nothing with my days. I just sit in my room, and stare at the walls. I don't see a point in finding a job now, with what I know now. All I can do, all WE can do is wait.

I first moved to Hampstead High School after the summer of 2007, I was fifteen and it was my first day at this new school, I had to leave the last school due to bad issues with bullying. You see I never have really fit in with my peers for as long as I can remember, I didn't play sports and wasn't physically fit whatsoever, nor did I enjoy playing chess or entering the science and maths clubs. So at either ends of the popularity spectrum, I was shunned. At this school I anticipated exactly the same treatment from my classmates as I had before. Of course, I was right.

As soon as I entered the cafeteria at lunchtime after half a day of your generic school lessons I immediately noticed all the little 'cliques' and groups each huddled round their own tables which no one of an opposing group dared to tread. It was my job to try and mingle with one of these groups or else, like my last school, I would be eaten alive. It was natural selection in its purest form. I was dreading having to attempt to socialise and warp my personality to suit these herds, but a spark of relief hit me when I saw, on the furthest table back, another loner sitting there. I felt quite optimistic when I saw him, we both have no group to belong to so we could just be ourselves, I mean we already have something in common anyway. So after buying my practically plastic food from the cafeteria I parked myself on the seat next to him.

He didn't look they way anyone else did, his face was as pale as snow, yet it still looked healthy, by contrast, his hair, which was neatly combed was jet black, so dark you could hardly see the textures in his hair. It was the darkest shade of black I have ever seen in someones' hair.

He also, unlike the other students had his tie neatly pulled up to the top of his collar, and his shirt was tucked in. It was radically different to the way I dressed, which was sloppy, to say the least. I then after making this observation, awkwardly introduced myself to him as Andrew Lambert and asked him what his name was. He slowly turned round to me with this blank, pale, aloof and unamused expression, with his eyes with irises as black as night. I initially thought he was going to say something hostile until he calmly said

"My name is George, George Oliver Davies."

He said it in a very eloquent and formal tone, probably the most formal tone I have ever heard from someone my age, I felt as if I was in a business meeting or something, I would have laughed but, something tells me he wouldn't have took it so well.

He maintained that blank expressionless face until about, I would say twenty minutes into the lunch break, where he folded his arms and scanned the room with intensity, he stared at each student with a piercing unmoving, and undeterred gaze which seemed to make them rather unnerved, even forcing some to leave the cafeteria, I saw him slightly shake his head at them, as if he were disappointed or angry.

His stare got more and more hate and fury filled and caused one student, to flee in terror. To my surprise, no one stopped him or even questioned him as to why he is staring at them so harshly, they just sat there, silent, the before booming cafeteria was now silent, I saw... that people began to sweat and bury their faces in their hands, some even began to shiver and cry, mumbling to themselves as they left the area. I never saw them again.

I asked him why he was staring at them, he finally broke his stare and said to me:

"Something is wrong here, It needs to be fixed."

Before I could ask him what he meant, the bell sounded for class time, and George swiftly stood up, It was then I noticed how tall he was; he stood a towering six foot six inches tall, and towered over every one in the entire school. As he walked to go to his next class he circled around some students, and then leaned over and whispered in one of their ears, after he did, the student began to stare at the ceiling and closed his eyes, the colour drained from his face and he- he even looked as if he began to sob, he then sat there as the sobbing got louder and louder until eventually he ran out the room tears just... streaming from his face as he wept loudly throughout the corridors, vexed by what he must've heard. Again, like the others, I never saw him again. I myself was very disturbed at this point.