Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 School Lockdown Horror Stories (Compilation of July 2022)

Episode Date: July 25, 2022

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They are responsible. The conditions apply. Talk to nicely. Edmund's Academy for the talented and gifted was unlike any school I had ever heard of. It was a boarding school tucked deep in the forests of northern California. The school was incredibly wealthy

and had advanced facilities and technology. Every student that attended came from a rich family. And most often they were sent to Edmund's Academy simply because their snobby parents didn't want to have to deal with them throughout the year. This was mostly true for me as well. I had been attending a standard private school near my home, but I never cared much about my education.

My parents grew tired of my dwindling grades, but finding the ounce of weed in my dresser was the last straw for them. They had heard great things about Edmund's Academy. Virtually every student who graduated went on to become a powerful and successful leader in their field. Edmunds Academy also had been a good also proudly advertised that their teaching methods were unorthodox and were geared towards

students who could not thrive in a standardized learning environment. Anyway, my parents signed an unusual number of papers, wrote a breathtakingly large check, and shipped me off to my new academic prison. And prison is the correct word. One day I was hiking through the forest surrounding the campus. I wasn't planning on running away exactly. I was just seeing what I could find. About two miles out, I came across a massive electric fence. What kind of messed up school used an electric fence to keep students in? The teachers were strange to say the least. Their daily attire consisted of white lab coats and dark glasses. Each teacher always carried an electronic tablet with them. It looked as if they were

running science experiments in between classes. Honestly, they probably were. The classes were a bit strange, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Whenever there was a possibility for hands-on learning, the Academy opted for that. We dissected more animals than I could have imagined. But this at least made class entertaining,

and my favorite part was that there were no tests. Evidently, you couldn't find flunk out of Edmunds Academy, which was great news for me. I was in my first year of the upper division, basically the academy's version of high school, when I began to fully understand the nature of the school. It was the last day of our first term in the upper division, and my cohort arrived in our designated learning zone like any other day. We had a cohort of six students, and we all attended every class together and slept in the same dormitory together, even though we were a mixed group consisting of four boys and two girls. The first thing we all

noticed was how quiet and empty the building was. We hadn't seen any students or teachers on our way in. We entered our classroom and sat down. Dr. Selman, our primary instructor, wasn't in the room. We waited. Were we not supposed to come in today? Hal asked me. Hal was pretty much the only person I could stand at the school. He was a bit snobby like every rich kid, but he was also the most down to earth.

Plus, it helped that he had been able to smuggle in a dab pen with many cartridges of cannabis oil. We would get high together all the time. Pretty sure, I replied. Dr. Zellman even said, see you tomorrow yesterday. Why would he say that if we weren't supposed to be here? The last member of our cohort to arrive was Andy Buxton. He was large for his age, and his face was heavily scarred by acne. He was hickish-looking, which made him appear very out of place in our

school uniforms. Although, apparently to make his uniform wore his own, Andy had torn his sleeves on. Everyone knew to stay out of Andy's way. He was menacing, and I hate to say it. But if there was one kid from our school, who I had to guess would go on some violent rampage, I'm not sure if anyone else knew just how scary he was. One night, I had entered our dormitory bathroom to find Andy. He had stolen a box of frogs that were meant for school dissections. The bathroom reeked, with the stench of blood and guts the moment I opened the room. the door. Andy had been tearing the frogs apart, ripping off their legs, peeling their skin back. I never said a word to him about it. I'm not even sure he even saw me. He took a seat in the

back and said nothing. This is stupid. Katie Forrester chimed in. She was chewing gum, obnoxiously. If no one shows up, I'm just going to leave. She was a spoiled rich girl, but I agreed with her. What was the point of sitting in this room if no one was here? I was about to say something to Hal when an alarm blared overhead. Metal blast shields slid down over our windows, and the door to our room shut and locked itself. An automated voice kept repeating. A lockdown is in effect.

Proceed to a designated safety area. What the hell? Katie said and looked around frantically. Do you think there is a shooter here? A shooter? Hal scoffed. So someone came out to the middle of nowhere, snuck past security, climbed an electric fence, just to kill some kids. You don't have to be an asshole.

Katie replied and crossed her arms. I hope it's a shooter. Andy said, mostly to himself. I'd take care of him. We all went silent at this comment. Hal looked at me and mouthed. Yikes. I stifled and laughed.

A smell reached my nose. Smoke. I looked up. The vents at each corner of the room had thick smoke pouring out of them. Is the school on fire? Kyle Dunswick asked in a panic. Is that why the lockdown was engaged? I ran to the door that sealed our room to try and open it.

Edmunds Academy used key cards for all doors. I placed my student ID on the card reader. It made a disapproving beeping sound and flashed red. Megan Livingston, an awkward and quiet girl, responded to Kyle. That doesn't make sense. Why would they lock the doors in the event of a fire? It doesn't matter. Katie shouted,

We're all going to choke to death from this smoke. The large touch screen on the front wall suddenly powered on. There was a five-by-five grid, each square containing strange symbols I didn't recognize. The bottom row, however, was empty. Anyone know what language that is? Hal asked. It's a pattern matrix, Megan said in her meek voice. We have to use the information from the previous squares to complete the pattern on the last row.

She approached the screen and repositioned her glasses. We all coughed as the room thickened with smoke. Megan studied the board for a while. I don't want to be that guy, Kyle said. But would you mind figuring this little puzzle out before we all suffocate? Megan tapped the screen and cycled through different symbols. until she completed the bottom row. Then she pressed enter.

There was a buzzing sound, and Megan's small body crumpled to the floor. She had been electrocuted. A red X flashed on the screen. Hal and I ran to Megan and helped her sit up. Is this some kind of joke? Hal shouted in anger. Are they trying to kill us?

Megan was whimpering and pleading. Don't make me touch it again. Please, don't make me touch it. My eyes were warm. watering from the smoke. You don't have to, I said. Tell me the pattern, and I'll enter it. You can get it right this time. Just focus.

Megan nodded and looked back at the screen. Oh. She said. How did I miss that? Change the last symbol to the oval with three lines through it. I cycled to that symbol and got ready to press enter. I hesitated. Are you sure?

I asked. Positive. I braced myself. and pressed enter. There was an upbeat beeping sound and the door to our room slid open. We all ran out, Hal and I, carrying Megan. The school apparently shifted. Instead of entering the hallway, we found ourselves in another larger room. As we entered, the door to our classroom sealed shut behind us. There was another locked door on the opposite side. Above the door, flush with the wall, was a timer counting down from one minute.

Looking around, I saw that there were no vents and there was no smoke. We could all breathe easily. Oh, come on! Cal shouted in anger. Why are they doing this to us? Katie said and began to sob. The timer reached zero, and the walls to our left and right began to move, closing in on us. Some students instinctively pushed against the walls, but it was no use.

Then the wall stopped. The timer started again from one minute. Andy was standing at a pedestal in the middle of the room. He picked a single object off it. My blood ran cold. He was holding a dagger. He smiled. There's an inscription on it, he said.

It says, the key to your survival. The dagger was the key to our survival? I didn't like the sound of that. And I especially didn't like that Andy was the one holding it. Whoa, Andy. Al said, lifting his hands. Let's talk this through. We need to figure this out together.

Why? Andy said with a disturbing smile. It's obvious, isn't it? It's Charles Darwin. We read him for class a month ago. Survival of the fittest. We need to remove the weak genes. We need to get rid of the one holding us back.

Andy walked right up to Megan. My body tensed. Now! Andy began. pointing the knife at Megan. I would have thought you were the weakest among us. But you got us out of that room. So clearly you're fit for something.

And you? He pointed the dagger at me. You were brave enough to step in and take the shock yourself if she was wrong. Andy walked around all of us, swinging the dagger back and forth in a menacing motion. I know who the weakest among us is. He stopped in front of Katie. You aren't strong.

You aren't smart. You're just a useless burden. Hal and I were moving to intervene when the clock reached zero. The walls began to close in even further. While we were momentarily distracted by our increase in confinement, Andy struck. He plunged the dagger into Katie's chest. She screamed and tried to fight him off. But she was no match for him.

He thrust the dagger into her three more times. She grew still and quiet. The timer reset to one minute and continued to count down. The room was already less than half its original size. Hmm, Andy said, looking at the timer. I guess it wasn't a test to find the weakest. It must be a test to find the strongest. A last man's standing situation.

He was going to kill all of us. He grabbed Megan because she was closest to him. I tackled him to the ground and bent the wrist that was holding the dagger. The dagger slid across the floor. But Andy was much stronger than me. He made me in the stomach and got him. got on top of me. He raised a powerful fist into the air, and he froze. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open. He tumbled off me. Hal stood there, breathing heavily. He had stuck the dagger

in the back of Andy's skull. The clock struck zero again. Quit! I shouted. We have to use the bodies to block the walls. Don't think about it. Just turn them sideways. We positioned the two corpses on top of each other, perpendicular to the shrinking walls. The walls kept coming. They pressed against the lifeless bodies of our classmates and didn't even slow. This was it. We were going to be crushed. The wall stopped again. The door to the exit, suddenly unlatched and slid open. Dr. Zellman stood in the doorway, his bald head shining in the fluorescent light. He was making notes on his tablet. Interesting, he muttered. Yes, very, very, very. interesting. It's been a while since a student resorted to fatal violence. Three whole years, in fact.

He checked something on his tablet. Megan, well done solving that matrix. Excellent work under pressure. And Andy, great job connecting your situation to Darwin. It's important to always draw knowledge from every... He noticed Andy's corpse on the floor. Oh? Dr. Zalman said. Oh dear, he appears to be... Hmm. Yes, well, these things happen. But that reminds me, Jacob.

He said, turning to me. Excellent work overcoming your disgust and trying to use the bodies as a stopping block. Very resourceful. I stared at my professor with my jaw open. You were trying to kill us, I said faintly. What? No.

Of course not. You never were in any real danger. We stopped the walls before they could reach you. And if you hadn't figured out the first room, we would have pulled you out before the smoke suffocated you. No real danger? I asked, anger rising. Two of us are dead. Yes, well, Dr. Zellman began.

We never told you to kill anyone. This was up to you all. We simply permitted you the freedom to do as you wished. What the hell are we supposed to do? I asked. Oh, the knife was the key, literally. It has a key card in its blade. It would have opened the door.

Dr. Zellman said this, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. He looked around at all of us. Look, I can understand your discomfort, but we were trying to get you to overcome your preconceived notions. We gave you a knife, but wanted you to consider that things aren't always as they seem. Unfortunately, you chose to use the knife as well as a knife.

The important thing is that we all learned something. You see, at Edmunds Academy, you don't pass or fail. You just learn. He made some more notes on his tablet, and then smiled and said we were all free to go. When I arrived at our dorm, my anger had to be. completely transformed into unbearable dread. I realized that there was nothing I could do. I couldn't call the police. I couldn't even call my own parents. And we were all trapped here. There was no way out. I sat in my bed knowing that I would remain here for the next three years.

Whatever these people wanted to teach me or whatever they planned to do to me, I would just have to accepted. I wondered if I would die here, or worse, if I survived, I wondered what kind of callous monster I would be. By the end of my time at Edmunds Academy for the talented and gifted, haunts us. Of this, I was always certain. It haunts us through the things we have done, and the things we have left. But I always thought this haunting was one of spectral grief. like a shadow that grows to dim our joy and peace of mind. It was in my senior year of high school that I learned that the past isn't always a forlorn reminds vengeance.

The past can rise and swell with real power and come crashing down not only on ourselves, but on the innocence around us. Our town had many ghost stories and legends. Yet the unimaginable thing that happened at my high school didn't come from any of these. And that should be expected. Ghost stories are just stories after all. The event that left our town's past unsettled was a concrete event, albeit a tragic event. But there was nothing mysterious about it. Some 30 years early, over a decade before I was even

born. A girl from our town was murdered. Her name was Daisy. She was a freshman at the very high school. school I was about to graduate from. She was found days after her death, bruises on her neck indicating strangulation. Her body had been hidden in the ceiling above the principal's office. The principal at the time was arrested and charged with her murder. And so everyone thought the matter was settled. Everyone was wrong. It was a Friday in March. I'm not sure which day, but it was the first day of spring. I remember that clearly. The day was unseasonably warm and bright.

Everyone seemed to have more pep in their steps, and the end of the week excitement was humming through the student body. At lunchtime, I sat alone as per the norm. I wasn't a popular kid, to say the least, and I had no friends. But soon I was to graduate, and I assured myself that college would be different. While I was sitting at that old table in the corner of the cafeteria, biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

It was as if a sudden draught of cold had rushed past me. I wasn't near any occur to whisper. The whisper said, I turned to see who was taunting me. It sounded like a younger girl. I thought it must have been an underclassman who had darted away before I turned around. I was used to freshman girls bullying me. I shrugged off the mean taunt and proceeded to my next class after the lunch bell rang. I had AP calculus with Mr. Hartfield. Mr. Hartfield was a man who looked far older than his age of 60. Honestly, he looked like he was pushing 90.

He was one of the only teachers who had remained after Daisy was murdered. Maybe he aged so pretty much. prematurely due to the trauma of Daisy's death. It was rumored that he had been close to her, something like a father figure. He was a serious but kind man and my only friend in the whole school. Often, I ate lunch with him in his classroom, but sometimes he told me I needed to go out and be with the other students. I understood that he was trying to help me, but this exercise was pointless.

especially considering I was about to leave this school forever. In the middle of calculus, I gave the correct answer to a complex problem, to which Mr. Hartfield smiled and said, Very good, Daniel. Someone behind me coughed. Teachers pet. Everyone laughed. Everyone except Mr. Hartfield and myself. I was turning around to make some comeback that would have made all my classmates despise me even more.

when a piercing sound filled the room. It was the school alarm. Our principal's voice came over the intercom. All students and faculty proceed to the nearest classroom. This is a lockdown. Mr. Hartfield checked the area around our room. No students were nearby, so he immediately closed the door and locked it.

I don't know what this is about, he said. But let's proceed as if it's an active shooter. Daniel, help me close the blind. Everyone pull the tables to the corners of the room and get under them. He switched off the lights and placed a green piece of paper over the rectangular window in our door. This not only prevented anyone from seeing in, but also indicated that all students in the class were accounted for. I pulled the blind shut and ducked under a table. All the students near me were muttering to each other.

Lizzie Smith was clearly in a panic. She was clutching her boyfriend, asking if he really thought there was a shooter in the school, as the principal had not said it was a drill. He pulled her close and said, Nah, I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, if there is a shooter, we could just push Daniel out first and run. He nodded to me. I was appalled that he could seem so casual while joking about me dying.

I was even more appalled that Lizzie laughed at this. My glare in their direction went entirely. unnoticed. Ring, ring! The old landline phone in the classroom, which the faculty used to quickly communicate with each other, began to ring. Mr. Hartfield picked up the phone. I watched his face. He grew pale at whatever was said on the other side. Then he said, yes, understood, and hung up. Dean, Lizzie's boyfriend asked. So what's up, Mr. H? It's just a drill, right? Mr. Hartfield stared at no one in particular and said, Drill?

Er, no, not a drill. But nothing to worry about. Everyone just remain calm and quiet. Knowing that something was wrong, I crawled over to Mr. Hartfield's desk. Mr. Hartfield, I said. I know something bad happened. I won't tell anyone else, but can you please just tell me? He sighed.

Oh, Daniel, they found a body. What? Who? A student found Mr. Davidson's body in the hallway. It appeared that he had been strangled. He barely managed to say the last word. So there's a killer in the school? I asked incredulously.

Yes, but no one knows where. And no one saw anyone enter the school. What else do we do? We just wait. Stay quiet. But there's one more thing. No one has been able to contact the police. No calls can be made outside of the school.

As he finished speaking, the room fell into a deeper darkness. It was as if a shadow had fallen over the school, blocking out the rays of light that had been filtering through the blinds. Then the room burst with brightness as someone switched the lights on. Mr. Hartfield stood up in anger and yelled, Who turned that light on? But no one had moved. And the light switch was still in the off position.

I peeked through the blinds. There was nothing but a black void outside the window. I couldn't see anything. Lily led out a scream. I followed her gaze to the whiteboard. A black, dry erase marker was suspended in mid-air, floating with its cap-off. The marker moved and began to write on the board.

As the marker squeaked, I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening. The writing on the board was neat and unassuming. the marker dropped to the floor. What was written on the board read, when considering triangular formulas, what is the opposite divided by the hypotenuse equal to? It was a math question, and an easy one at that. It was something a freshman would be studying in basic geometry.

The answer, of course, was sign of the angle, or sign of theta. Thinking that answering correctly might help our situation, I shouted, sign of theta. A chuckle ran through the air. It sounded like a girl was laughing, only it seemed to radiate through the room. The lights began to flicker

as a terrible screeching noise pierced our ears. Something else was being written on the board. Only this time, it was as if it was being carved into the board with an invisible knife. The writing was jagged and sloppy and consisted of only three letters, S-I-N. It was the answer to the answer to the word.

to the question, the abbreviation for the word sign, written as sin. As we all stared at the board, the strange laughter that seemed to come from everywhere at once increased. The lights flashed in rhythm with the laughter, then the laughter stopped. I felt the cold chill down my spine again, and the same voice that had said all alone now said, If you want anyone in this school, the voice of a young teenage girl. No one else seemed to hear it. They were all still frozen with fear at what had just happened. I stood up and walked to the classroom door and unlocked it.

What are you doing? Mr. Hartfield shouted. I ignored him and ran into the hall. The hall was cold, a cold that made my skin tingle. Everything had a strange dimness to it. Yet, I could still see clearly. I looked to my left down the hallway of lockers and saw Mr. Davidson's corpse on the floor.

And there, floating just above him, was a young girl. She was pale, semi-transparent. Her hair was pulled back in two pigtails. To the right side of her scalp was a hair clip. And on that hair clip was a daisy. What's your name? She spoke like any other freshman girl. I opened my mouth.

It took all my strength to squeak. To Daniel. Hi, Daniel, she said and smiled. Do you know who I am? The girl who... You're Daisy. That's right. Even though she was positioned above a man she had just murdered, I got the sense that she didn't want to hurt me.

I like you, Daniel. You're like me. All alone, I know what it feels like. I was bullied every day that I walked these halls and abused every night that I was. I went home. I had one friend. Do you know who that was? People have said you were close to Mr. Hartfield, but I've never heard him talk about you. She questioned and cocked her head to the side. She stuck out her bottom lip like a baby pouting and in an obviously fake whiny voice said, He doesn't ever talk about me. He's gonna break my wittle heart. I stared, not knowing what to say.

Daisy's demeanor darkened. The air got colder. Daniel, he was like a father to me. Do you want to know why he doesn't talk about me? Do you want to know what happened here 30 years ago? In that very classroom? She lifted a ghostly hand and pointed to Mr. Hartfield, the old principal. Stuffed my body in old Mr. Callaway's office and had him framed for murder.

And now I need you to bring Mr. Hartfield. out here so we can. She placed a hand over her throat. Talk. Understand. Why can't you just go in there yourself? Daisy spoke in a harsh whisper. Do you know what he did before he strangled me? That man who was like my father. Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. Now there was a genuine sorrow in her voice. Do you know what he did to me while I begged him to stop while I screamed and begged? as if from a living memory I heard the voice of Daisy all around me she was screaming and crying

someone help then the scream turned into the sounds of choking then silence I felt Daisy's sadness rising inside me Daniel she said bring Mr. Hartfield out he was always so kind to me did you not hear what I just said

I know but you're going to to kill him, she said, your tone gentle. He has to pay for what happened. Bring him out here so that justice can prevail. And I was about to go and do as she asked when I saw Mr. Davidson's body again. What did he have to do with this? Why did you kill him?

Daisy remained silent. It took a step back. You're lying. I said, this isn't about justice. This is revenge. I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you just murdered an innocent man. You're no better than Mr. Hartfield. At those words, I felt the very air grow hostile.

Daisy's pigtails came undone, and her hair began to rive. Her eyes turned into soulless pits. Innocent? Her voice changed. It now sounded as if many girls were speaking all at once. It sounded like something ancient and horrible. I am the only innocent one. I am the power of the powerless.

The victims of the world. The lockers around us burst open and closed repeatedly. School supplies flew out of them and began to spiral around Daisy, as if she was in a tornado. She rose higher into the air. I'm the Blood Avenger. She went on in that collective, nightmarish voice. The slaughter of the innocent must be paid with blood. And if he doesn't come to me, I will make these halls run red.

I will upend brick from brick. I will pull out the earth from beneath them and this entire town. Dits of the walls began to tear free and spiral around Daisy. I felt weak and fell forward under the weight of her power. She was going to kill me. She was going to kill everyone. Just as I felt myself about to lose consciousness, I heard a voice shout from behind me.

Daisy! Everything stopped. The school supplies and chunks of debris spiraling around Daisy all froze in the air. A gasp. Mr. Hartfield had taken a step outside of his classroom. You're right, Daisy, he said. I must pay for what I did to you. Not a day has gone by that I don't feel like I'm drowning in shame.

I'm sorry, Daisy. Please don't hurt this boy. Please don't hurt anyone else. Daisy walked through the air, taking soft steps, as if there was an invisible floor in midair. She stopped just in front of Mr. Hartfield. For a moment, she seemed... hesitant, even afraid.

Then she lunged at him with fury. She choked him, not with any supernatural power, but with her own bare hands. Forced to the floor, Mr. Hartfield gasped and sputtered. Begg! Daisy shouted. Her voice now a simple child's again. Bet for me to stop! But Mr. Hartfield didn't beg.

He writhed for a little while, and he was still. His open eyes stared at nothing. Daisy sobbed softly for a moment, and she vanished. As she left, the darkness covering the school went with her, and daylight returned. All the objects floating in the air fell back to the floor. I could sense that the wrathful energy was gone. Everything was calm. Even now, I can't understand why Mr. Hartfield went so willingly.

He had let an innocent man rot in jail for 30 years, never once. owning up to his crime. Perhaps it was seeing the spirit of Daisy, finally forcing him to accept the truth of what he had done. I can't reconcile the kind of man I knew with the man who did such a horrible thing to a little girl. But I suppose I don't have to. The past came with determined wrath to reconcile it itself.

My mother was already in the kitchen that Monday morning, preparing me a breakfast of eggs and hash browns. Good morning, sweetie, she said. I rubbed my eyes and gave a half-hearted morning back to her. I forked an egg into my mouth while partially listening to the chatter from the television set in the living room that my father was watching. Mysterious disappearance at the San Francisco Zoo. Investigation underway. Sam?

My father called from the other room. Have you and your friends heard anything about this? I rolled my eyes. I heard about what, Dad? These zoo animals just disappeared overnight. Guess whoever was supposed to lock up that night is out of a job. I think my friends and I have better things to do than worry about where some animals went, Dad. My mother gave me a stern look as if to say,

Be nice to your father, I whispered. He's got to stop watching the news all day. It just gives him a million pointless things to worry about. My mother shrugged her shoulders, but I knew she agreed with me. The bus is here, she said. Have a good day, sweetie. She handed me a brown paper bag with a heart drawn on it and kissed me on the cheek. Ha-ha, I'm in high school.

I grinned in protest. But you're still my baby boy, she said, and grabbed me and kissed me again. I laughed and pushed her off me and ran out the door to the large yellow vehicle waiting for me. Apparently, every kid on my bus had a concern, news-obsessed father as well, because the topic that dominated the conversation for the whole ride was the escaped zoo animals. The high schoolers were spinning their own wild conspiracy theories. One student claimed that aliens had abducted the animals to conduct research. Another saying that a religious cult had exhausted their supply of animals for ritual sacrifices and were seeking

to replenish it. Brad from AP history had the most reasonable explanation. It was simply that the exotic animals in the San Francisco Zoo could sell for ridiculous amounts of money on the black market. Stealing these animals was akin to stealing gold bars from a bank. I figured that had to be the correct reason. The bus pulled up to our high school, and we all shuffled out and into the school itself. First period, I had English literature, so I made my way to the far end of the school where Mr. Jameson taught. Entering the room, I gave my best friend, Pablo, a fist bump, and sat down next to him. That day we were discussing Hamlet, and to make it more engaging, Mr. Jameson was drawing comparisons

between it and the Lion King. Near the end of class, he showed us a clip from the movie. It was a scene in which the protagonist Lion was fighting his uncle, only the clip wouldn't load. It was frozen on the lion's open mouth. We heard a ferocious roar. Mr. Jameson looked around in confusion. Why is the audio working when the video won't load? He muttered. Something felt wrong.

It didn't sound like the roar had come from the classroom speakers. Screaming. There was screaming coming from the hallway just outside her classroom door. We heard another spine-tingling roar. Then there was a piercing ringing sound. Our school's alarm system. Our principal came on the intercom and spoke quickly. This is an emergency lockdown.

All students and faculty moved to the nearest room and locked the doors. There are predators loose in the school. Predators? We were all stuck to our seats. My eyes were fixed on the little glass window of her closed door. Someone slammed against it hard, and there was a splattering of red across the window. It was the school janitor, and she was screaming, banging on the door. Her face was torn open.

Three long gashes. pouring blood. She fumbled with the handle and found that the door was unlocked. Pulling it open, she fell forward onto the floor. We were all too frightened to even move. I saw that her back also had large gashes on it. She was trying to lift herself up when a lion with bulging muscles, sunk its teeth into her back leg, and dragged her screaming from the room. The door automatically swung close, but not before I saw the lion tear off a chunk of flesh from the janitor's thigh. Her screams were worse than the lion's roar. Mr. Jameson's mouth was open, his eyes wide.

Everyone? Everyone remain calm. Already kids in our class were sobbing. Some of them huddling together in the corner of the room. I turned to Pablo. Dude, what the hell? He just stared at me, then looked at Mr. Jameson. Mr. Jameson was dialing 911. We overheard an automated voice say something about a large volume of calls,

and no one picked up the phone. His face dropped, and he looked up at us and said, I'm sure someone is coming to help. We just need to stay and... It was a thunder at the door. The whole room shook. The entirety of the little window of our door was covered by something black. The room shook again, and the wall around the door began to show cracks.

Something was hurling itself against the door. A final thunderous sound sent the door and parts of the wall sprawling to the ground. sprawling to the ground. In the now gaping hole stood a massive gorilla, larger than I could have ever feared, it locked eyes with Mr. Jameson and charged immediately. It picked him up with its massive hands, holding one of his arms in each hand. Mr. Jameson was screaming and kicking at the beast, but it didn't seem to even notice his assault. The gorilla began to pull his arms out to the side, like a child trying to pull apart a dog. I heard sinews tearing. The area of his shirt around his shoulders turned red. I knew what was about to happen. His arms would be ripped from his body.

Pablo grabbed me and guided me out of the hole where our door used to be. I heard a wet, tearing sound. Mr. Jameson stopped screaming. The hallways of the school were alive with chaos. Apparently many students and faculty members had been outside of classrooms when these animals had entered the school. There were now two lions feasting on the body of our poor janitor. Fortunately for us, they were distracted, and we slipped right past them. To our left, a group of students were huddled together on top of a table as a large alligator paced around on the floor beneath them. Another group came into view, sprinting down the hall.

Behind them, the ground itself seemed to move. A large gathering of serpents slithered across the floor. One of the students at the back of the group was struck on his ankle by a serpent. The student screamed and fell to the floor. Almost instantly, the rest of the serpents swarmed him and coiled around him until only a writhing mass of snakes can be seen. Pablo and I sprinted to the main plaza of our school, seeking the front entrance. The entrance was crowded with students and teachers. Why weren't they leaving?

When we approached, I heard a student crying, They locked us in. Why would they lock us in? My eyes moved to the large double doors. They had been locked from the outside by a thick metal chain. What is going on? Pablo asked. Teachers were hammering against the windows with chairs and various objects they could find, but it was useless. The glass was bulletproof, and even the strongest of our faculty couldn't leave a scratch on the surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our principal pacing back and forth in his office. Come on, dude, I said to Pablo. Maybe he knows what's going on. We ran to his door and found that he hadn't even bothered to lock it. Mr. Hadley, I said, do you know what's happening? He barely even seemed to notice us.

He had apparently just gotten off the phone with someone and was in great distress. With one sudden motion, he flung his phone across the room in anger, then buried his face in his hands. Mr. Hadley! I shouted. He looked up. I'm sorry, boys. I don't know what else to do. What is happening?

I asked again. Something malicious. I'm not sure what. But I finally got through to emergency services. The police said that this is happening at almost every school in the Bay Area. It's some kind of terrorist attack. They said they don't know when they'll be able to send anyone our way. Pablo muttered.

He was looking at his phone. He angled it towards me and said, Look at what's trending on Instagram. It was a video featuring a man sitting in a forest, wearing a metal mask that was half human and half gorilla. He spoke with a deeply modulated voice. Hello, citizen. These psychos are okay with murdering children?

This is bad, Mr. Hadley said on the verge of tears. This is really bad. I was looking at Pablo, uncertain of what we should do. When glass shattered to our right, the window in Mr. Hadley's office, which pointed out into the main plaza of the high school, had been shattered by a large ostrich. Bits of glass fell through the air like diamonds,

and the creature led out a screeching noise. Get behind me, boys! Mr. Hadley shouted, we obeyed. He held up one of his hands as if to push the bird away. It paused and stared at him. Slowly, he turned. Trying to position us closer to the door, the ostrich followed his gaze and cocked its head to the side.

Then, in one swift motion, the bird lunged its head forward and plucked Mr. Hadley's right eye clean from his head. He stumbled back, clutching the bleeding wound with his hand. The bird held the eyeball between its beaks. A long red flashy cord dangled from the eye. The bird tossed back its head and swallowed the eyeball hole.

Run! Mr. Hadley shouted. We sprinted from the room as the ostrich lunged at Mr. Hadrard. Back in the main plaza, the teachers and students had scattered due to what entered the room. On the opposite side of the plaza, emerging from the shadows of the left hallway, was a massive white rhinoceros. It led out a low grunting sound and paced back and forth.

I looked around at the frightened faces. I heard the cries of wild beasts and the cries of innocent children being devoured all throughout the school. I had an idea, a very stupid idea. Walking to the front doors, I positioned myself exactly in the middle and took a couple steps forward, blocking eyes with the rhino. Pablo realized what I was doing, and he approached me. I thought he was about to tell me I was crazy and dragged me away. But instead he patted me on the shoulder and said, You go right, I'll go left. I nodded. The rhino was no longer pacing. It was staring straight at us. I lifted my arms in the air and waved them frantically and shouted to challenged the beast. It snorted and pawed the ground with its front hoof. Then it lowered its head

and charged. The ground shook as it charged across the polished floor. My heart was pounding in harmony with the thunderous footsteps of the beast. I wanted to jump away immediately, but I knew I had to wait for the last possible moment. Only then would it go crashing through the front doors. It drew closer, and I was preparing to dive to the right, when suddenly the great beast collapsed, as if it had tripped. Its body rolled once over due to its movement. Then it slid across the floor and stopped right at our feet. It was dead. Everyone in the plaza just stared in silence.

There was squawking to my left. The ostrich emerged again. It's beak, bloody. But the creature was walking as if it was drunk, stumbling back and forth. Then it collapsed as well. All across the school, the animals just dropped dead. Help finally arrived an hour later. The police cut open the door and helped everyone out.

The ambulances that arrived could do nothing but transport lifeless bodies. Days later, the full story came out on the news. The OAL had released deadly animals into many school districts across the Bay Area. To ensure a bloody outcome, they had given all the animals a serum that enraged them and heightened their aggressive behavior. But they apparently hadn't tested it well because it eventually induced a heart attack in every animal they had set loose.

Ironically, this animal rights group was now responsible for the death of countless animals. All schools closed for three weeks, supposedly to allows to grieve and process what happened, as if that was enough time to recover. Today is the first day we have to go back. I'm sitting in my room in terror, imagining what can happen again, knowing that the leader of this terrorist group hadn't been caught by authorities. I walked downstairs to the kitchen. Our dog barks at me as I enter.

That sound, every image of mutilation I had seen three weeks prior. I collapse on the ground and sob.