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One.Three.Thirteen.

Short story By: carlia
Horror



Thirteen. I don't know why but the number held some kind of importance to me. One...three...thirteen...
Its thirteen minutes till schools out for the year and everyone is waiting anxiously for the bell to go but little do they know is that someone else is also waiting. But for something else... Waiting to kill, waiting to get revenge for all those years of torture they put him through. Who makes it out alive, what does thirteen mean and what happens that makes him think twice?


Submitted:Nov 22, 2011    Reads: 23    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


The sweat dripped down the back of my neck, slowly trickling down my spine; I could feel it making a wet patch on my t-shirt, forcing it to stick to my skin. An irritation, an annoyance, the stickiness of everything bringing frustration to a rise. The sound of the flies moving around in the background in perfect sync; harmonising with the ever constant sound of the droning buzz of their wings, was quite discomforting to my ears. I could feel mine and everybody else's eyes pouring into the clock on the white clinical wall. Waiting, just waiting in anticipation of what was to come. Thirteen minutes left, thirteen minutes till Christmas holidays and I could already visualise the tents on the dusty dry ground, the sizzling of the sausages on the barbie and the scorching heat bringing drops of sweat to my brow. Thirteen minutes till the whole school would go wild. I don't know why but the number held some kind of importance to me. One…three…thirteen… I tried to shake it off and think about something else, but I could feel it. Just sitting there at the back of my mind. As the clock ticked on, the thought never left. One, three, thirteen…

A clap of thunder accompanied by lightening, shot through the sky outside and I felt my body jump in surprise as my insides trembled. The kind of scream that causes the tiny yet deep cracks in the mirrors to be there, echoed through the room. I felt my head jerk to the side without my consent and my throat let out a stuttered gasp. Blood, like red wine, soaked the white of her skin, the metal from the protruding object reflecting light to a hole in the cracked glass of the window. Murmurs and yelps carried around the class while some ran forwards to help. Mind frozen in fear I couldn't move, my eyes quivering were focused dead ahead on the hole in the window from which the object came flying through.

I felt my muscles tighten, mouth slam shut and thoughts jump in fear as my ears found the sound of another clap of lightening. The sky outside was fading, losing light. The light above my head flickered uncertainly. Craning my neck to look towards the fluctuating light, darkness confronted the room as the bulb sizzled in shock. Something had hit the electricity box outside in the storm. The power was out, we couldn't call for help and there was a student screaming and moaning in agony.

Not being able to do anything we just sat there, stricken in fear, listening to the hard pattering of rain like needles stabbing into the roof. Aside from the cries of the helpless young girl the room was silent, like the dead of night. Too scared to speak, words got caught up in my throat and came out as loud sobs. I didn't know what was going to happen and I didn't want to imagine it either, afraid it would be all too real.

Suddenly the door swung violently open, my eyes flickered over to the doorway and my heart caught my breath in a most dangerous fashion. I saw the glint of the sharpened blade twirling around almost playfully, as if to tease me. Tell me my life could be over in a matter of seconds. Swallowing hard, I shrank down the cold hard plastic of my chair. I could feel my body shaking as my eyes stayed staring at the monster of a human being in the doorway. Although I was seated in the darkest corner of the room and I knew he couldn't see me; it felt like he could see right thru the dark and into me. Seeing my fear.

His silhouette started making its way round the room, earning strangled cries and gasps from students. I could feel my throat swallow harshly as hot tears ran down my stone cold cheeks. Gripping the desk I tried not to look at what he was doing, but found myself unable to look away. Needing to know, not wanting to be surprised by a dagger being punched through my back, I stayed watching. Hearts pounding, I could sense everyone in the room was just as terrified as I was, wondering what their fate would be, if they'd live to see tomorrow. One step, two steps, three in my direction and a quick flick of his wrist sent the butchers knife plunging into the blue veins of a student's neck. A strangled scream coming to a painfully quick end as he dropped dead to the floor. My shaking hands gripping my mouth harshly to stop myself from screaming. Eyes and cheeks delicately wet with tears. I brought my knees slowly to my chest trying to stay silent and buried my face and body into myself as much as I could. Turning my head to the side I sighed in slight relief as my eyes saw the heartless cold person with the knife turn to walk to the other side of the classroom.

My skin, clothes and hair were sticky from sweat and by now there were flies dancing around the lifeless body lying on the floor exactly two meters away from me. I felt sick seeing the blood drain out of the boy who once had his whole life in front of them. Now dead because of a brutally inhuman figure.

Screams, shouts and pleas for help bounced around the room as the silhouetted figure went on a killing spree. Gasping in shock horror as I saw blood squirting out of veins in necks, back and chests. Knives being propelled into people at every available angle. I could feel myself coming to a state of hyperventilating as I was about to faint. Cries for him to stop coming out of my mouth without permission as he raged around the room.

His eyes, black with thirst caught mine and I knew I was next. Falling of my chair in an attempt to get out and away, I scrambled along the ground backwards. I hear a familiar scream of shock as I hit the wall. Trying to see who was had been hurt instead of me, I realised the scream was mine and the killer was exactly three steps from me. I could hear the squelching of the blood on the soles of his shoes as he moved ever closer to me. Bawling my eyes out for fear in between hyperventilating I squished myself into the corner, shaking my head as I knew my fate had been decided.

Looking up at him trying desperately to find some sort of sign that would tell me that he might just possibly let me live. There was none. My heart was pounding harder than it ever had before, feeling like it was about to burst out of my chest. I caught the glint in his eye again and realised I knew it. Josh. It was the kid who had always been bullied right since preschool.

He raised the knife to my neck watching me squirm. I begged myself not to scream. As the blood coated blade started scraping my neck I heard a tiny voice say please, I heard it say I'm sorry. That was my voice. Squeezing my eyelids shut as hard as I could, preparing myself for the inevitable, the knife left the base of my throat and my pulsing veins. Releasing a breath I never realised I was holding I looked up at him in utter amazement. He was standing straight, just staring at me. Then he turned and walked away. Crying in relief I wondered what made him stop only to remember what I'd said. Sorry. I realised I had never heard anyone ever tell him sorry before.

Looking around the room, twelve people had been killed. I was number thirteen. I felt my eyes go wide as I remembered the number from earlier today. Thirteen. I had stopped him, and all it took was sorry.





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