.comThe classroom was quiet with the scratching of pencils on paper as the teacher walked up and down the aisles. Her high-heeled shoes tapped whenever they hit the ground, echoing around the room with an eerie quality...puh-tap...puh-tap...puh-tap...
The ten-year-old children were silent as they continued to work. The teacher looked upon the children in disdain as she grabbed her ruler and tapped it on her desk. Everyone's eyes gazed at the teacher as she wrote on the board in large white letters.
"OK class," said the teacher, "today we are going to learn about the Civil War. What do we know happened during this time period?"
The students looked around at each other, confused as they normally were. The teacher smirked as she called on one of the small girls in front, Betty, to answer her question.
"Mrs. Grady," she stuttered, "We haven't learned about this yet..." Betty looked like she was about to let loose a torrent of tears. The teacher, Mrs. Grady, gave a loud snort of disapproval before going back to the board.
As her back was turned, one of the boys in the back of the room, Wilson, pulled out a straw and some paper and started making spitballs. Just as Mrs. Grady turned around, Wilson blew his ammo at the board. They hit with a sickening splat and the other children started laughing. Enraged, Mrs. Grady grabbed her ruler and slapped it on Wilson's desk. "I will see you after class, Wilson..." she spat as her eyes fixated on his. Wilson just sat back in his desk and showed off a smug grin.
The dismissal bell rang. All of the children except for Wilson got up and solemnly walked to their coats and bags. Mrs. Grady had always been like this: bitter, cold, menacing, some even considered her dangerous. Her husband was one of many that went overseas to fight in the Second World War and never came back. She was devastated, even ten years afterward, but she vowed to never show weakness from that day forward. For some unknown reason, she decided after the war to become a teacher, and after she received her degree she began teaching fourth grade in a small school outside Buffalo, New York.
She looked at Wilson, still smugly smiling in his chair. "Wilson, what should I have you do today?" she crooned. "How does cleaning out erasers for me sound? And then after that you can wash the board, write out "I will not make spitballs in class" a hundred times, erase it all, and then clean the erasers and board again!" Mrs. Grady chuckled at her own deviousness. Wilson just calmly rose and grabbed the erasers as he made his way toward the window.
"You know, Mrs. Grady..." said Wilson, "I don't think you'd be able to handle too many of us...I mean, sure, there are only ten of us, but imagine what would happen if there were twenty, or thirty..."
Mrs. Grady wasn't paying him much attention, as she was too engrossed with the children's papers. "Make sure that you get those erasers nice and clean, Wilson," she spat. She looked up at her papers to make sure he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. Wilson just looked at her and gave his smug little smile.
"I bet you think that you've got complete control over us, Mrs. Grady..." Wilson mused.
"As a matter of fact, I do," she countered. "I am your teacher and elder, so you should respect me as well, you ungrateful little brute!"
"I wonder if you're ready to see us for what we really are, Mrs. Grady..." Wilson purred. His grin grew wider on his face. "I mean, you're tough enough on all of us, so we think it would be time for us to give you a taste of your own medicine...don't you think so, Mrs. Grady?"
A shiver ran straight down Mrs. Grady's spine. It was something about the way Wilson said that sentence...a taste of her own medicine...it was so calm and tranquil that it seemed like a real threat...
Pull it together, Sybil! she thought to herself. You're afraid of a ten-year-old boy with an overactive imagination? You're better than this, Sybil!
The time went by quickly. Wilson occasionally made comments about showing their "true forms," but Mrs. Grady dismissed this as a child having too much creativity. Besides, the children were terrified of her already, so why should she of all people be scared of children?
Wilson finished at five past four. Mrs. Grady dismissed him and drove herself home for the night. His works rang in her head all night long, but she continued to dismiss them as childish fantasies. After a light supper of soup and bread, she decided to go to bed, as she finished grading all of the papers already.
That night she had trouble sleeping.
The next day, class started out as normal. The children, so demoralized, slunk into their chairs as they continued to look at the chalkboard. Mrs. Grady, knowing that her fears were behind her, found a new sense of energy and authority in the classroom. Even Wilson stopped smiling during the lessons. But while her back was turned, Wilson cooked up another batch of spitballs and they hit the chalkboard with a splat!
"Wilson, you will stay here during lunch and recess as you clean out the erasers and the chalkboard of not only my room, but Mrs. Apple's room across the hall," she coldly commanded. Wilson's smug smile returned. The children started laughing at the spitballs. Mrs. Grady heard the lunch bell go off and all of the children (except for Wilson) grabbed their lunches and headed down. Wilson stayed in his seat.
"Wilson, you will start in Mrs. Apple's room, and then you will come back to my room. I am going to go to the ladies' room. Mrs. Apple will be in her room. Behave, Wilson..." she spat. Wilson lethargically got up from his seat.
"You still don't believe me, do you, Mrs. Grady?" he asked. "I bet that you'd love to see people dish out as much terror and fear as you do to us..."
He chuckled as he walked into Mrs. Apple's room. Mrs. Grady started shivering again. There's just something odd about that boy...imagination or not, that boy is just off... she thought to herself as she started toward the bathroom.
She reached the bathroom and quickly moved into the closest stall. She started going when she heard the door open. Betty and her friend, Sarah, had joined Mrs. Grady in the bathroom. She heard the two girls whispering softly to each other.
"Is it safe to do it here?" asked Sarah, whispering no louder than a butterfly beating its wings.
"I'm sure it is..." replied Betty. "No one comes in here during lunch..."
"Good, because I'm dying to get out of my skin..." said Sarah.
Mrs. Grady didn't know what to make of the conversation, but she knew that she had to keep quiet. She stayed in the stall, took off her heels, and climbed on the toilet to get a better look.
What she saw was nightmarish.
There on the floor, stood Sarah and Betty, looking at each other, holding each other's hands. The air started smelling of sulfur, as the two girls' skin started melting onto the floor. They let go of each other's hands, as the flesh and blood had all melted off and was starting to go up the arms and down the chest. The muscle underneath was black still stained red from the blood, but the muscle started growing...morphing...
The rest of the body followed suit. The red muscle underneath the flesh started growing larger and more grotesque. Tails started growing out of the girls' backs as the hair burned away from the heat in the air. Midnight black claws grew out of the "fingers" and "toes" of the two girls. The "bones" underneath the muscle started growing through the "skin," creating jagged spikes down the "arms," back, and "legs," but the worst was yet to come.
The faces of the two girls started melting toward the nose. Then, like fruit in a blender, the eyes, mouth, and nose were blended together in a thick, red paste-like substance. The paste was then expelled from this point, hitting the two "girls" in places around their bodies. What was left in the face was a large concave space, the depths of which no mortal eyes have ever seen. The spots where the face juices hit started burning into the "girls'" skin, creating holes and making the room smell even more like sulfur. Two more gray arm-like appendages grew out of their backs before the two "faces" started uttering an unearthly moan that would drive any mortal man to madness.
At this point, Mrs. Grady couldn't take it any more. She didn't even hear herself scream as she fell off the toilet seat and hit her head on the bathroom door.
***
An hour later, Mrs. Grady woke up in the bathroom with Mrs. Apple standing over her. Mrs. Grady's fourth grade class was with Mrs. Apple as well, because they did not see their teacher come back from lunch.
"Sybil!" Mrs. Apple exclaimed. "What happened to you? You look terrible!"
Mrs. Grady groggily stood up and held herself against the wall. "I...I...I..." she stuttered. She looked around the bathroom, which had since been cleaned. Sarah and Betty came forward and gave her an ice pack. Mrs. Grady gave a slight yelp of surprise after looking at the two girls, for they looked nothing like they had before...they looked like normal schoolchildren. She winced in pain before putting the ice pack on her head.
"I guess I must have just slipped and hit my head on the ground...I'm sorry for making you all worry about me..."
Mrs. Apple came to Mrs. Grady's side. "Don't worry about it, Sybil. I called the substitute for you. Go home and take the rest of today off. You need the rest."
Wilson was in the hallway when Mrs. Grady came out of the bathroom. Wilson's grin was much wider than usual. He stared at Mrs. Grady as she came up to him.
"So, Mrs. Grady...what did you think?" casually asked Wilson. "Didn't I say that you'd be scared?" Mrs. Grady paid no attention to him as she walked past. Wilson started laughing. Mrs. Grady walked out of the school with the visions of what just occurred in her head. SURELY, she thought, I have to do something about this...otherwise I might go insane...
She arrived home. She went up to her bedroom and pulled out a box from deep within the confines of her closet. She pulled off the lid to reveal a revolver and twelve bullets.
She hadn't seen this gun since the day her husband went off to war. This was his gun, but she knew that she had to do something. She put the gun and the bullets in her bag and went to sleep for the rest of the day.
The next morning, Mrs. Grady had a light breakfast. She knew what had to be done. She drove to school like everything was normal. Her stomach did flips as each student arrived to class. She remembered the gun in her bag. All ten students, including Wilson, were here today.
"OK, children," said Mrs. Grady. "Today we have two tests. One for mathematics, and one for history. Are we ready to take them?"
The sighing of the children sent shivers up Mrs. Grady's spine. Easy, Sybil... she told herself. It'll all be over soon...
She passed out the first test. As the students started, she sat back down at her desk and grabbed her bag. "Wilson," she inquired, "Could you come with me for a second?"
Wilson got up and headed for the door. Mrs. Grady led the way to the janitor's closet. It was the farthest away from all the classes and it was well insulated from the inside. She opened the door; the hinges creaked from age and lack of oil. Wilson stepped inside and Mrs. Grady turned on the light.
Wilson looked around as Mrs. Grady shakily pulled out the revolver. The boy looked straight as Mrs. Grady as she aimed right for his forehead. She pulled the trigger. It was a direct hit. Wilson fell down and hit the ground with a thud. Frantically, Mrs. Grady looked for something to cover up the body with. She found some old blankets on the top shelf, which she threw over Wilson's body before leaving to get another child.
She repeated this process with all ten children. Ten of the twelve bullets were used, but Mrs. Grady was relieved that it was all over. She hoped that no one would notice that there were bodies in the janitorial closet. She grabbed her things, including the gun and two leftover bullets, and headed home, claiming that all her students "had come down with polio and were unable to get to school."
That night, Mrs. Grady cooked herself some soup and found some meat. She decided to treat herself; after all, she managed to put to rest her greatest fears. She started cooking on her stove when the power went out.
"Damn electricity company can't even give me a good electric stove now..." grumbled Mrs. Grady. It started to rain, and it grew harder and harder and louder and louder. Thunder boomed in the distance and Mrs. Grady contented herself to watching the lightning from her home.
Something was wrong.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing outside her window when a bolt of lightning flashed. Your mind is playing tricks with you now, Sybil...give it a rest, it's over... but it happened again, and again, and again, until she finally decided to go upstairs.
She started to hear singing outside. Softly at first, but it grew in volume and intensity. It sounded like...little girls singing in the schoolyard. Terrified, Mrs. Grady opened her window to find two girls outside her house, singing. The two looked up.
The faces on the girls were the faces of Sarah and Betty.
"Hello, Mrs. Grady," the girls chanted in unison. "Care to tell us about the Civil War now?"
Terrified, the teacher grabbed more bullets from the box in her closet. During this time, the other children that Mrs. Grady had shot had come with the girls. Sarah and Betty started to transform again; Mrs. Grady ran to the other window to find the other children doing the same thing. Their loud collective moan reduced the teacher to a quivering mass. "What are you children!?" She screamed. She shot one of them. It had no effect.
The rain was coming down harder than before. Another flash of lightning this time revealed something else. Mrs. Grady walked toward the back window with the gun in her hand, cursing and threatening for whoever it was to show themselves. Another flash of lightning showed a face that she never wanted to see again:
Wilson.
Startled, she stumbled backwards as Wilson's face came closer and closer to her. She regained her balance and looked at the face, all the while yelling that he wasn't real. "You're DEAD now, Wilson!" she laughed. "Now LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU DEMON CHILD!"
"I beg to differ, Mrs. Grady...I think you're the one who's dead now..." Wilson's voice echoed. His face started melting like the others. What was left of his head was a large gaping black hole. Mrs. Grady screamed and shot it. There was no effect on that either.
"What's the matter, Sybil?" an unearthly voice spat. "We've been waiting for this day to come. When we find someone else who oppresses us like you did, we'll do the same thing to them. We're going to do this for as long as it takes...Don't worry, Sibyl; it's not going to hurt...much."
Scratching and pounding sounded from downstairs. She heard the unbearable moan again. What could make it stop!? Just what were these creatures? They were mere children this morning! What the hell possessed them to resort to this?
A final gunshot rang through the night. The "children," knowing their job was done, cried one last time before leaving Mrs. Grady's house.
***The next day, the substitute was called again to teach the children. Mrs. Apple drove over to Mrs. Grady's house to see what was wrong. She got no answer when she knocked on the door, so she walked in and looked around...until she saw Mrs. Grady's body sprawled across the floor of her bedroom. Terrified, she called the police, who came quickly and took the corpse away.
Meanwhile, at the school, all of the children were learning about the history of the Civil War...even Wilson, who was usually misbehaving at this time, paid attention to the substitute.
