NOT A DRILL

Authors Note: Hi guys thanks for reading this or at least starting to read this. Please remember to vote comment and follow if you can. Also I like constructive suggestions on how to make parts of the story better, but please don't hate. If you feel offended in any way please inbox me and nicely explain why. If you don't want to inbox me you can just stop reading. Thanks, Ranger89

Oh yeah. This is all copyrighted. Bye (and hope you enjoy)

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It was a normal school day when tragedy struck. I was in eighth period reading Rise of the Revoluton as Zac was doing math homework. We were learning how to find the circumfrence and area of a circle. We were in Mr.Smith's room, with it's squeaking chairs, dusty chalkboards, and the overwhelming smell of sharpies. Scattered across his floors were broken pencils and bits of paper struggling to survive the feet thundering past. The glaring sunlight flowed through the window, burning my neck.

"Hey, Noah get your nose out of that book and let me see your iPad." said Zac.

I reluclantly put my book down and handed over my iPad, wondering what he would do to it. Zac and I had been good friends ever since we went to the same day care as kids but he still did very strange things (like biting people). Though we still had a lot in common. We were good at math, even though we hated it, and were great at other classes. We both have brown hair; but while Zac has short curly light brown hair. I have a thick unruly mane of black-brown hair. I'm not like those other guys who sag there pants and have hair covering their eyes. I just have thick fast growing hair. I love history and am usually seen wearing a history or book-like T-Shirt. Today, infact, I was wearing a Catching Fire T-shirt with a mocking jay on it.

As I handed my iPad to Zac, the announcement speakerr crackled to life just as every time Mr.Johnson usually get ready to speak. Today was not one of those days.

"THIS IS NOT A DRILL THERE IS AN INTRUDER IN THE BUILDING AND HE IS ARMED! PREFORM ALL OF THE SAFETY PROCEDURES! I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" screamed Mr.Johnson into the microphone deafening us all.

"Come on people sit against the walls and hide your stuff! BE SILENT!" commanded Mr.Smith as we scrambled across the room. We huddled against the wall and were to shocked to speak.

'An intruder? Here? How did he get in? Where is he?' I thought to myself.

Then, as if answering my question, a shadow danced across the far wall. Everyone turned to look at the door to find two eyes filled with hatred staring back at them through the glass pannel in the door. An audible "snap" resonated through the room as a spider webs crawled across the door's window.

As this person was hacking away at the three inch thick pannel of glass protecting us with his a knife. Mr.Branket whispered for us to go to the opposite side of the room. When I got there I turned around, terrified, looking for Zac. As I looked to the far side of the room I saw Zac sitting there, petrified with fear, as the glass pannel shattered showering Zac with shards of glass and splinters. The person reaches a gloved hand into the jagged hole and unlocked the door. The person walks in wearing a black wool ski mask and muscle shirt complete with bulging muscles. As the person walks in they take off their ski mask, his greasy blond hair sliding out from beneath the wool. was rock solid to the floor as the man walked in. I knew I have to distract him away from finding Zac.

"Hey you!" I yell at the intruder, "Get outta my school!"

"What the..." he replies whipping around. He snarls at me and all the color drains from the classes face. Their pale faces like ghosts in the gloomy classroom. The intruder wipes the shattered glass off his knife and starts creeping over to me.

'Oh no!' I thought to myself, 'I'm gonna die!'

As the man walks into the door frame, knife at the ready Zac's foot shot out like a viper tripping the intruder. The man stumbled and tripped over Zac's other foot. He fell to the ground on top of his knife with a sickening "squelch"! The whole class stared at the man writhing on the floor. He soon fell still as the crimson puddle around him grew larger, the wooden floor drinking his blood greedily. Mr.Smith tells us to stay back as he walks over to the dead man. Zac, splattered with blood, turns on the lights to see the horrific sight. The mans body laid mangled on the floor, his limbs at odd angles. As Mr.Smith turns the man over he finds the whole front of the man soaked in blood. Using the mans ski cap, Mr.Smith smears the blood off the intruders face. A terrifying sight burns into our eyes as we see bloodshot eyes staring back at us, drained of all life. In the middle of the mans forehead petruded the knife, covered in hair and blood.

All of the sudden a boy at the back of the crowd broke down to tears, sobbing into his sleeve.

"What's wrong?" asked Mr.Smith.

They boy, named Jake, replied with, "He's my.... he's my uncle"

"What!"

"But... but he died three years ago."

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