The Famished

The Famished

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing10m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Mar 27, 2020
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. * * * * * * Candice Bailey is just trying to get through the school year when something terrible happens. The Teachers of the school have turned into flesh eating monsters. Will they make it out of this alive?
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Hell Hall

High School. A virtual hell to every pimple covered, greasy haired, knowledge loving kid who walks the halls of the institution. Only a very proud few manage to rise among the ranks to become "the cool kids," snagging the lucky fate of living the best years of their lives up through the twelfth grade. We'll just not tell them what happens after they graduate. In ten years, when the kid the football team swirlied is their boss, they'll realize that it probably would have been better to not be cool when they were teens. But that doesn't matter now. Why you ask? I'll tell you. My name is Bridge, which isn't short for Bridgette, if you were wondering. My parents were assholes when they were younger, I guess. It could have been worse; at least I'm not a piece of fruit or an airline. Unique names can kiss my little undead butt. Oh yeah, that. I'm also dead. No need to apologize—it's not your fault, unless you're the pile of crap who murdered me. If so, could you fill me in on what happened? I'd really like to know how my life ended. The last thing I remember is going out for a milkshake and then, poof! I was here. Where is here, you ask? If you ask any of the adults, it's Harrison's Preparatory Institution for the Gifted and Unknown. If you ask any of the students, it's Hell Hall. That's right, bitches; high school is now back in session.

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