The Haunted School
The trance broken, you finally act. Crouching down, hands extended in front of you, you inch forward taking show, shuffling steps. You have no idea if you are moving toward or away from safety, You remember the scene in the movie, "Silence of the Lambs" in which the demented serial killer (Buffalo Bill, was it?) plays with his victims by putting them in a dark cellar and chasing them. He wears night vision goggles so that he can see his prey, everything an eerie green, but clear. He gets within inches of them, and they never know it.
Was that happening now? Could whoever is in the room with you be doing the same thing?
Dropping to your hands an knees onto the gritty floor and swishing your hands just across its surface, worried about toughing the filth that might be ground into the tiles, you continue the search. You can see nothing. You hear nothing but the sound of your own ragged breath and your own beating heart.
A strong, coppery smell assails your nostrils just before your groping hand touches something moist. Rubbing your forefinger against your thumb, you note that the liquid is thick and slightly sticky. Also, the pool seems to be growing larger, engulfing your left hand now. Your mind reels. You recoil.
Blood is thick and sticky. Blood has a coppery smell.
Screw your phone. You stand up, angry now, straining to see a way out, heedless of what might be in the room with you.
Was that happening now? Could whoever is in the room with you be doing the same thing?
Dropping to your hands an knees onto the gritty floor and swishing your hands just across its surface, worried about toughing the filth that might be ground into the tiles, you continue the search. You can see nothing. You hear nothing but the sound of your own ragged breath and your own beating heart.
A strong, coppery smell assails your nostrils just before your groping hand touches something moist. Rubbing your forefinger against your thumb, you note that the liquid is thick and slightly sticky. Also, the pool seems to be growing larger, engulfing your left hand now. Your mind reels. You recoil.
Blood is thick and sticky. Blood has a coppery smell.
Screw your phone. You stand up, angry now, straining to see a way out, heedless of what might be in the room with you.