Working Late

I swear this is going to take me all night. Students just don't understand how much teachers put into work. I will teach them though. I swear this test is gonna kill the ones who never pay attention. What is the chemical formula for sodium chloride? Of course most people would know that it is NaCl, but I know these kids and they won't know what it is if they don't know. I teach Chemistry I, in a high school school. Working late is a part of my life. I stay at the school grading papers and making worksheets. I also get labs ready and such.

It is seven o'clock already tonight. As you probably guessed I am getting a test ready for a tomorrow. What is the atomic mass of Oxygen? I am always the last teacher leaving the high school at night. I am usually out of here by six o'clock, but tonight I had study guides to correct and this cursed test. It is creepy being in a dark empty school into the late hours of the night but I got to do what I got to do. I am as you noticed probably by now a dedicated teacher. I love teaching children, as long as they are willing to learn and not slack off in my class.

BAM! "What was that?" I yelled jumping out of my chair. "Who is there?" It sounded like a door slamming shut as if a teacher had just left for the night. That is impossible though, no other teacher is ever here as late as me. I should go investigate, so I walk around the lab tables in front of my desk leaving the test at question 23: Li stands for what element? 


The hallways are dark, just the emergency lights are on not giving it much light at all. Continuous dull thuds could be heard, like footsteps. No one is here though, and the sound isn't coming from my shoes what is it? The BAM I hear a door slam shut. I scream out, "Who is there?" The footsteps stop, I stop. "Hello?" No response of any kind. A corner was up ahead.

I walk super slowly so no noise will be made as I walk to the edge of the corner. While tip-toeing to the corner of the hallway I can hear a slow raspy breathing. The closer I get the louder it becomes. A test question pops into my head, What elements make up the noble gases? I pass a sign along the wall that is letting kids know when the registration dates for ACT testing is due by. Then I see it, a shadow in the entry way of the corner. In, what looks like to be a man's hand, is a sharp looking object.

I start running back towards my room. I run as fast as I can. I don't even know what is going on behind me, or what the guy could possibly be doing, I just run for my life. I do though hear a clanging noise, like the man attempting to through the knife at me and it missing and clanging to the floor. I just keep on running not hesitating. I run into my classroom and barricade the door. I go for the black school phone on the other side of the room, and to find out the phone line has been cut. I dig in my desk for my iPhone, to find out I have no service at all. I already had known that, but in a panicked situation you never know what your going to do.

BOOM! I look over at the door and I can see this figure slamming a hug sledge hammer against my classroom door. I see the man looking up at me then all of a sudden. He had dark skin, and a scruffy looking face with a poorly cared beard on his face. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood up. BOOM, BOOM!!!

What in the hell am I going to do? I am stuck in this room with a murderous psycho-path outside the door.  BOOM! I grab a knife out of one of the class cupboards used for experiments, preparing myself for the inevitable. BOOM! The hinges on the door where starting to come loose. The wooden door was weakening under the continued pressure, and then there was no more boom's upon the door. The man had stopped banging on the door. Why did he stop?

I look over towards the door, and he wasn't even standing there anymore. "Where did he go?" I said with my nerves on their edge. I was ready to just crack up, just start screaming at the top of my head. There was absolutely no noise being made. I could hear the clicking of the clock but nothing else could be heard. I pasted around the room, walking back and forth in front of all the students desk's. What the hell was going to happen to me?

A thought popped into my head, what if I was imagining things. What if I imagined that shadow, the man's face, and all those noises. I go near the door, and then I remembered, why would the door be almost busted off it's hinges?

Then I heard a loud, CLICK, noise. Louder than a clock ticking every second. I was like a door coming unlocked is what it sounded like. I was rooted to the spot. I couldn't move any part of my body. Then I heard footsteps growing louder and louder. Then I heard a voice, a loud raspy voice yell out, "You shouldn't have ran." I was trying to move as I saw a man's figure move closer and closer to me, but it was like my body was frozen to the spot. I saw him pull out a long sharp object . . .



Luke Rodgers had died on November 13th, 2012. He was found early morning on the 14th of November by the students in is first hour Chemistry class. They had walked into his classroom, all of them said they thought he was sleeping at his desk, face down. None of them bothered to wake him, as to try and get out of a test if he slept through the hour. They were going to draw on his face, but to find out that his skin had been peeled off his face. Further examination had also resulting in the discovery that his genitals had been cut off, toes had been removed by what looked like to be a pliers, and his knees smashed into a bunch of tiny pieces. Autopsy results had proved that Mr. Rodgers had been alive for most of the damage done to him. The man (or women) responsible has not yet been found. It is believed, though, that this has been done by the now legendary serial killer, who has committed around 100 murders in the past five months. There are absolutely no leads to go off of. It does seem to be fishy, though that each person being killed has written about their death before they died. No leads besides that, it seems the killer, whoever it might be, knows what he is doing. The city is starting to fall apart

A continuation of a previous story, and yet to be continued still . . .


This has been a fictional story from Noah Mark Bitney