Hush

Taylor inhales sharply through his nose, then begins, “There are two kinds of people who survive this plain of existence, the strong and the smart. Often at odds, because they are told they are so different. But, in reality…”

“Dude shut the fuck up. This is not the time for your existential bullshit.” I whisper sharply. We scramble to the back of the classroom.

Alarms blare throughout the building, echoing off of the cinderblock walls. The doors are magnetically locked. Standard school shooter protocol dictates Teachers huddle their pupils in the back of the room away from any interior or exterior windows. I’d hate to be in the art lab, that place is basically all windows.

“I mean, you know this kid is neither right?” Taylor continues in a hushed voice. “I bet its Ian, he’s always getting picked on. Oh no, its Ethan, gotta be. That kid definitely has some issues. It’s definitely not Igor, shooting up a school isn’t very,” air quotes, “Russian.”

I look at him bewildered, “What is wrong with you? Do you not hear the screams? This is no joke man.”

Placing a hand over his mouth, like a coy geisha he continues, “Oh right this is serious. I should be serious. You should be serious. Mrs. Serious is seriously serious about being serious. Just look at that face.”

“Dude, stop!” I say with a shoulder shove as an exclamation.

“Look at her, she’s right behind you.”

As I turn, “So, what’s the big dea…” An eerie grin and dead stare made me jump back. Not just Mrs. Seriphios, the entire class, thirty-two other students. All staring beyond my soul, into my atomic structure.

I turn back to Taylor. BANG!

The plastic desk vibrates beneath my head, I pop back in my seat almost flipping the whole desk contraption.

“I’m glad you decided to rejoin us Mr. Lamant,” Mrs. Seriphios says, as she pushes me back to earth. She takes her book from my desk and continues her lesson.

Taylor leans in from the left, “Haha, man you were knocked out. And you looked like you were having one hell of a dream.”

“Yeah, I was. The shooter alarm was…” “BRRRRRRT, BRRRRRRT, BRRRRRRT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL THERE IS A SHOOTER IN THE BUILDING, BRRRRRRT, BRRRRRRT, BRRRRRRT “Fuck!”

Published by Danton Lamar

I grew up in a country that thinks it is better than it is and left because I wanted to know if the rest of the world was as crazy. These are the writings of a man trying to stay sane I'll post a story or poem every Wednesday

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