by Dave Edie

I was there when they came bursting in with  guns blazing, shooting at anything that moved. They wore dark clothes and long duster  trench  coats. They moved through the hallways, with fury, firing into selected class rooms. I can still hear the roar of the shotguns and the deafening sound of pipe bombs exploding,  sending strange echoes throughout the school.

It was my junior year. I was an awkward kid, small, not  athletic. I had tried out for various sports teams to no avail. In my school, you had  to have that special something to make the team or  be in the special cliques. That is how I knew who these killers were. They too had been forsaken by our classmates. Shunned and ridiculed to the breaking point. These were not athletes,  but the guns they carried leveled that playing field.

They  were from my clique. Stevie Malvo was our leader. He and I had shared English Lit together. We both sat towards the back trying to stay out of the sight of the others. We both found  Edgar Allen Poe to be cool, but liked Stephen King better. We both agreed that Salem’s Lot was his best work, and it was a shame they did not cover him in class.  He put a bullet into the back of Ms. Shaw’s head for making him read Twilight and then giving him a C.

Drew Nelson was the other. We had gym class together our sophomore year. Dodge ball was always  miserable for us.  We were picked last, and always first out. Tim Russell, the quarterback of the football team  made it his mission to tag us first, throwing as hard as he could. I must have seen Drew swept of f his feet numerous times as that red ball screamed into him. Drew found him cowering behind a bookshelf in the school library and swept him off his feet with his shotgun. Equals at last.

I had known them. Fellow outcasts. I thought I was one of them, however they had planned this all without my knowledge. As the police sirens closed in on the school,  I watched them moved into one of our favorite spots in school. The audio-visual room was our sanctum from the bullying and teasing.  I tried to follow, but Stevie stopped me. “No”, he said to me, “you are not one of us.” They locked me out, and I heard the last two shotgun blasts. I was alone. Alone, and forsaken by all.

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Dave Edie

Dave Edie is a retired soldier from the U.S. Army. He ha a Master’s Degree in U. S. History, and loves dogs, motorcycles and horror fiction.

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