Twisted Dreams Series: T-Rex (Short Story)
The children snickered as he outlined the equation on the blackboard. What could they possibly be snickering about? His nerves became more rattled as he began stumbling over the explanation of the equation. ‘And you carry the x . . . , no you carry the y over to the left to celebrate . . . I mean separate it from the . . .’ he couldn’t take it anymore. He calmly placed the chalk in its holder and excused himself from the classroom.
He closed the door behind him and standing in the empty hallway unleashed his frustration. ‘These kids can just die! Those stupid kids can go to hell for all I care! Those dumb kids! I hate them! I hate them all!’ He continued his lunatic ranting as he pounded his fist against his skull and pulled at his hair.
After five minutes or so, the frustration subsided and he returned to his classroom. The children were failing to suppress their laughing. With a deep breath, and a readjustment to his glasses, he completed the equation.
The following day in class, the same snickering consumed his students. Again, the snickering breeds a self-conscious paranoia within him and he excused himself to the hallway. ‘Stupid kids! Always laughing but can’t answer one question right! I’ll break their necks and send them all to hell! Those kids aren’t worth anything!’ Lost in his ranting, he was unaware that his shouting rattled the nearby lockers. ‘Yes, T-Rex I’ll let you have them. And you can have them - those kids – you can have them all T-Rex!’
He returned to his classroom where the children were laughing uncontrollably. The children overheard his loud ranting through the classroom door.
‘Mr. Branch,’ giggled Melissa, an honor student that favored neon blue nail polish, ‘why do you always leave the classroom?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll have you meet T-Rex.’, he smiled.
Melissa stopped giggling, and began writing frantically in her composition book.
Once Melissa reached home, she told her parents of the events that occurred in class. Outraged by what was being reported by their twelve year old daughter, they immediately contacted the school’s principal.
The start of class the next day, the school board members filled the auction block, and standing before parents and students, announced Mr. Branch’s replacement with Mr. McCrimmon. Without answering any questions regarding the sudden dismissal, the members left the auction block one after the other.
Mr. McCrimmon settled along with his new class that day, with no problems to report to the principal or other teaching staff.
Around 5:30pm, the main office was suddenly swarmed with phone calls. Parents were reporting their children missing and asking of their whereabouts. School ended at 3:30pm, and after school sessions ended at 5:00pm. What the staff assistant found peculiar was that all the missing children belonged to Mr. McCrimmon’s class. She reported her findings to the principal. The principal made his way to Mr. McCrimmon’s class, in hopes he could provide some assistance.
A few minutes passed, the principal returned to the main office with loss of all color to his face.
‘What’s – what’s wrong sir?’ asked the staff assistance, a little hesitant in whether she wanted the answer.
‘There’s blood everywhere,’ he whispered, ‘I can’t tell a leg from an arm in there.’
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