Heads will Roll

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Please read my short story Heads will Roll.

Submitted: August 19, 2013

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Submitted: August 19, 2013



Mrs Bennet was the meanest teacher around. She would yell at the children in the scariest voice. Her eyes were all bloodshot and her mouth contorted to an uglyness that many a child discusted at.

She would walk into the classroom and say, "Now I am going to teach this lesson and I am not going to hear a peep from any of you children. You are going to all sit there an you are going to learn. And if you don't learn, heads will roll."

She, Mrs Bennet, said this last phrase, "heads will roll," in a sinister, forboding tone.

Little Donnie was very scared of this, sitting in the middle row of desks as not to be noticed. Little Donnie wanted nothing more that to live a life with as little notice, as inconsipicuous, as possible.

Little Donnie, who was as inocent as can be, wondered, literally, if their was any substance to this threat. He started to get scared of the gilletine. Surely she didn't mean it literally, or did she? And, if she didn't, it was a terrible thing to say, and a rotten threat to make.

Mrs Bennet noticed that children shaking, and said, "ha ha, now I see I've got your attention, all you children are shivering, shuddering and shaking (especially that little boy in the middle row) there is nothing like fear to get a child learning."

Mrs Bennets mouth was as ugly, or even uglier, than ever and she narrowed her eyes at the children. She saw all the children sitting up strait and attentive. "This is what I teach for," she thought, "I command my authority on a classroom as soon as I enter that classroom and then the children are blank canvasses before me, ready to learn."

Learning was a big thing for Mrs Bennet. She really believed in it. "Knowledge can mean the difference between a happy life and a unskilled unhappy life," she thought.

Those kids were frightened before her but she would teach them some of her knowledge. Scare it into them.

Little Donnie tried to do his work but the threat of, "heads will roll," rung in his ears and he was so nervous he couldn't write neatly. Her ugly mouth and narrowed eyes held his starled vision and the fear kept his eyes glued on these unattractive features of the teacher.

"Look at your work," Mrs Bennet snapped at him, "is this a trouble maker we have here in my classroom. Keep your eyes on the page or heads will roll."

Little Donnie was terrified at this. Firstly, he didn't want to be noticed - and all his classmates looked up at him - and, secondly, this terrible threat was directed directly at him. Oh, he was scared, he imagined his head in the gillotine, and the blade coming down, and his head rolling away over the classroom carpet. He thought how mean Mrs Bennet was and then he knew that he wanted, oh so badly, for the class to end. He listened to the clock tick but didn't dare look up to the clock.

Little Donnie was still shaking to much and his pencil, when he put it to the page, only made a tremulous, scraggley, squiggly line.

Then, much to Donnie's dismay, one of the lads behind him, named Alex, started spitting spit-balls at him, through an emptied out pen encasement cilinder.

"Spoot," it went, right into the back of little Donnie's head.

Little Donnie ignored it but the spit-balls were very irritating, as can be expected.

"Spoot," they were getting lodged in his hair.

"Spoot," "Alex will stop if I ignore him," Donnie thought.

"Spoot," that was it! Donnie let out a huge groan and vigorously rubbed the spit-balls out of the back of his hair.

Mrs Bennet noticed little Donnie's movements and her mouth made the ugliest, bitterest expression yet. Then she spoke:

"What is this we've got here. I'll tell you what I see. It's a trouble maker if ever I saw one. What's the matter boy, you got a bee in you bonnet. I tell you this, never have I known a boy to be so disrespectful as this. Heads will roll."

Mrs Bennet sounded like a broken record, or a robot, with a frizzed out fuse.

"I am just an innocent kid," Donnie said, "I endevour for nothing more in life than to pass through it, drawing as little attention as possible. I am the quietest boy you will ever meet and please don't cut my head off! Please don't cut it off!"

Now Mrs Bennet's mouth was more than ugly. It had contorted in to the most unnatural, macabre, something-not-of-this-earth (like a deformity or an atrosity, nothing living on this here earth could define it, it was "of the dead" - daemonic) expression imaginable.

"Heads will roll, heads will roll," she said, in a robotic way.

"No, not my head," said Little Donnie, "I am pretty sure if you cut off my head from my body it will make me die. I don't want to die," Donnie started crying, "I am to young to die."

And Alex, who was starting to feel sorry for Little Donnie, added, "Yeah, and he wont be able to learn."

Mrs Bennet tilted her head for a second like a puppy. She was confused. The she shook it off and started in a tone far louder, "Heads will roll, heads will roll."

All the children were getting frightened by this point, and they exchanged looks around the classroom. Was any behavior for a teacher? Something was definately astray here. And all of them knew at that moment that this wasn't ordinary behavior and they all deteriated trust in this woman.

"Heads will roll, heads will roll," she screamed.

Little Donnie had now taken cover under his desk. "Oh, no, please no, Mrs Bennet don't cut off my head. I ask no more in this life than not to draw attention. Oh, no, please no," he was whispering in a terror.

Then the little boy, Alex, crawled under the desk with him.

"Don't be scared. I am sorry about the spit-balls but now I am here to calm you, and, help you. Don't worry, my friend, soon the alarm will be raised, if all this ruckus keeps up, and somebody will come to help."

Little Donnie calmed down a little, and wondered about Alex, he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"Heads will roll, heads will roll," Mrs Bennet repititiously screached in the most not-of-this-realm voice.

The children in the classroom were all terribly upset. Three quarters cried, some hid under their desks, and some had been reduced to screeming, with their hands up to their red cheeks. Donnie was brave though with his new friend, Alex, to comfort him.

Then, finally, the door bust open. It was the principal Mrs Percevile. She was a rosy cheeked woman with a rainbow polkadot mini dress on, which had giant hand-span polkadots on.

"Oh dear, what's going on here," Mrs Percevile said.

She got a male teacher and he took Mrs Bennet from the room. Mrs Percevile, with her rosy cheeks, and full lips, which broke into a sympathetic smile, made a speech:

"Oh, you poor children, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that Mrs Bennet went loco on you all. Oh, are you alright, my little darlings?"

Then a little girl in her school uniform bravely said, "Little Donnie was the one who got the brunt of the abuse. He is the one that deserves the most apology."

"Little Donnie," Mrs Percevile said, taking out two lollie-pops from her pocket, one for Alex and one for Donnie, who were still hiding under Donnie's desk, and continued, "You are one of my favorites. You are modest and I believe that you want to live a quiet life, drawing as little attention to yourself as possible."

She handed over the lolliepops.

* * * * * * *

Alex and Donnie sat together in their recently accumulated friendship sucking on their lollie-pops. They laughed at the adventure. That mean old lady, Mrs Benett, went loco on them. They were just about to go inside for their next lesson when they saw mean Mrs Bennet being carted away by the men in white jackets. Mrs Bennet got what she deserved. They never saw her agian.


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