WIP

IV

I look out the window of the bus, it's covered with the morning dew and I watch the water droplets get pushed around by the wind. I can relate. I am sitting alone, thank God. Cars wizz by the bus since we are pretty much in the middle of fucking no where. We arrive at school, Patrick Ashman Public School. Patrick was the mayor of our fair city, Marshmen, while it was being built back in 1856. He had gone missing a few years after and was presumed to be dead. They put a memorial stone for him right in the middle of South Marshmen Park, in the centre of town.
Marshmen was a nice city for the most part. South Marshmen, where I live is not so pretty. So why they decided to place a memorial for the most memorable person in the history of this city in the most fucked up place? That, I don't know. Anyway, the school was built right behind the park, so that's where the name came from.
The bus stops at the drop off zone and we get off. I trip down the stairs but am able to retain my balance. I hear giggles behind me and I start to think that it wasn't the stairs I tripped on. I keep walking and ignore it. The clouds are still dark in the sky. I walk threw the front doors and an announcement comes on saying that school is closed and we need to go home immediately. I am very confused at the moment because we have not had a skip day in years. Most people just start going home, excited to go play there video games or what ever the hell they do in their spare time. But I, being part of the freak show community, decide to go to see why we had a skip day.
I rush up the stairs in a hurry. So many things are going through my mind. Did the school flood? was it on fire?
I walk to room 18-56, and there is a crowd around the front door of the classroom. I jostle my way to the front and get a look at what happened. I can not believe my eyes. The desks, the chairs, the man, the... the blood.