The Elementary School
They said the school was built on a cemetery. Not something we were eager to believe, but we couldn’t deny the strange things that happened.
For starters, there was the cat. No one knew where it came from, or how it had gotten inside, but everyone had seen it. It would be rounding a corner as you passed a hallway. Or pacing in front of the stairs as you went into your classroom. If you tried to get close, it would be gone in seconds. Off to its hiding place.
Then there was the creature. At the back of the field there was a sewer grate. We used to drop berries through the holes, until we heard the growling. The older kids would warn us about losing our fingers if we stuck them down there. No one could tell us what it was exactly, but we all knew there was something.
Not to mention the time the fire alarm went off in the middle of winter. Us kids stood shivering in the snow for over an hour as the grown-ups tried to find out what had happened. It wasn’t a drill. No one had pulled it. Even the fire fighters couldn’t figure it out.
But worst of all was the girl’s bathroom on the first floor. We were ignorant little kids. We tempted fate. We turned out the lights and played Bloody Mary. Now, everyone knows what’s supposed to happen; or at least a few different versions of it. But we didn’t see a face in the mirror or anything like that. Instead, the lights would start to flicker. The stall doors would slam open and closed. And then there’d be a girl’s voice, calling to us to come and play. Most of us would run for it by that point; screaming and laughing in the hallway. We thought we were so clever. So cute.
But one day, Anna didn’t run out with the rest of us. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to prove herself. But all she proved was that it was possible to drown in a toilet.
