The old man in dungarees, his body bent, his
face cruel and hard shuffled along a corridor, pushing his way through a stream
of students. It was break time at school and most students ignored the old man
but a few were imitating his moves or mimicking his words. Two boys scowled at
the caretaker as he passed by.
“He’s pathetic,” said one of the boys glaring at
the caretaker.
“Yeah!” He’s pathetic but harmless,” said the other
boy dismissively.
In the lesson the teacher sent two boys to get
new exercise books from the store cupboard which looked the inside of a wobbly
cardboard. Suddenly the caretaker loomed out of the darkness, behind the two
victims. He grabbed the boys putting one large hand over the mouths and
dragging them off in the dark.
More pupils began to go missing, one by one. All
of them who had tormented the caretaker. Some remaining kids realised their
mistakes of their victims. Once it was clear to the caretaker that the heroes
were starting to suspect something, they became the next targets. The children
urgently needed help but a private conversation with any of the teachers was
impossible. Without any help all the heroes were picked off except one.
He was walking down the main corridors
confidently but realising that he was alone made him more anxious. He stopped
when he heard a faint cry and realised he was standing next to the door of the
basement. Then he began to walk slowly down the stairs, making little noise.
The boy forgot his cautions and ran forward, falling on his knees. His face was
filled with horror and tears rolled down his cheeks. The bodies at the top of
the pile were his friends.
“Seen enough boy?” the boy spun round to face
him.
“You killed them,” he gasped.
“Did I?”
The violins screeched to a final and the words
‘THE END’ appeared in the middle of the television screen.
