St. Cain’s Private School-Urban Legend

All my life I’ve wanted to teach. To give the next generation knowledge of the past so that they can use it to make a difference in the future. (St. Cain’s Private School-Urban Legend)

I’ve gone from School to School teaching all sorts of children. The smart type who brim with great potential, the type to mess around and cause trouble, and the shy ho just need a little push to get there on their feet. There aren’t any children that I haven’t seen or been unable to teach.

I can proudly say that I am the best at the doing what I love, and though I could teach every child at any School, I only select those who are considered the worst type of trouble. Not paying attention, throwing paper airplanes, giving off attitude. I look for those and I change them, correct them. It’s what I do best.

That’s why, when I received a letter requesting my aid at St. Cain’s Private School known for harboring very specially troubled kids, I knew that this was a challenge I could not reject.To give the next generation knowledge of the past so that they can use it to make a difference in the future. (St. Cain’s Private School-Urban Legend)

My heels clap against the grey pavement as I approach the tall black gate that is the entrance to St. Cain’s Private School .The School itself is made up of red brick, some sort of clear white cement holding it together. The School seems stands strong, radiating a strong sense of authority.

A small silver panel is attached to the gate with three plastic buttons with text. I press the plastic button titled, ‘reception’ and a buzzing sound rings on contact. There’s a long silence that makes me feel like the School is closed, a silence so long that I even start to turn around to leave when with a small beep, a voice finally comes through and responds.

“Hello?” The dull female voice calls from the intercom.

“Yes hello, this is Megan Lennon. I’m a new teacher that’s supposed to be-.” There’s a wiring sound from the other end which only lasts a moment before the line cuts to silence… Again, I’m left waiting in another long silence that just takes up the air around me. I stand there awkwardly, slightly annoyed even, but then nearly taken by shock when the gate scratches against the surface of the ground as it opens outward from me. I clear my throat as I quite too eagerly proceed into the School grounds.

The front yard is full of nature, flowers, well-kept bushes and a couple of fountains. But as a whole I find it unusually silent, unusually still… I walk up the few steps that lead up to a large brown double door and push against it, but only mid-way through the motion I find that the door gets lighter and that it’s being pulled away from me faster than I can push, and in turn, my body succumbing to the force of gravity.

I brace myself for the impact, my arms flying out before me to take it all, but I don’t hit the ground. I open my eyes, the ground inches away from me and I slowly turn myself around to see a tall man dressed in a fitted suit holding me. He pulls me up and I clear my throat, trying to settling my heart from the sudden shock of the fall. (St. Cain’s Private School-Urban Legend)

“Th-Thank you.”

“No, that was my fault; I didn’t realize somebody was coming in.” He says in a monotone voice. “You’re our new teacher, correct?”

“Yes, I am. And not to sound rude or anything, but who are you?”

“Oh right, I am the principle of St. Cain’s.” He reaches out a hand and I shake it. His grip is strong.

“It is nice to meet you.” I respond.

He simply nods his head and turning and says, “This way.” As he starts guiding me down a long corridor, the walls made of glass, but the ceiling and floor that same red brick. The view is stunning with roses and dandelion pushes lining the exterior.

“I’m sure you read the email, but just to make sure, you do know these children are Dangerous, to say the least.”

“I am well aware, though I think calling them dangerous is in poor taste. That’s how you get the idea and those mannerisms into them; it’s how they turn out the way they do…” I argue, but he just laughs, which takes me back.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s just… Well, you’ll see soon enough.”

We continue on till we eventually come to the third yellow door out of a series of five. The corridor is loud and being close to the doors now, I can hear the kids raging and making a mess.

“Sounds terrible in there…” I comment.

“They’re honestly not that bad, that’s just them when there isn’t a teacher in.” The Principle is just about to open the door when he stops in his tracks, “Oh right, before I forget. He hands me a protective vest, the sort you’d see police officers wear when going out into action. I laugh out loud,

(St. Cain’s Private School-Urban Legend)

“Are you serious?” The amused expression on my face drops when I see how stone cold serious he is.

“If you’d prefer to go in there without one, you’re free to do so. But I’d strongly advise against that. Strongly,” He says holding it in the air. After a moment of battling my own internal dilemma, I reluctantly put it on. Then, he opens the door…

As soon as we walk in the room instantly falls silent. The four rows of tables filled with students sitting still, backs straight and smiling innocently.

“Good morning Class 2-B, I see you’ve settled down.” He says walking up to the front of the classroom, just before the old school chalk whiteboard. “You have a new teacher today.” He points at me and I respond by waving and smiling as warmly as I can. First impressions are important; I want the children to know that I am on their side and that I’m nothing to fear.

“Treat her well.” The teacher smiles and the kids start to snicker. “I’ll leave you to it then.” The principle says nodding at me, a prompt informing me to take over. I smile and he leaves the room.

“Hello class, my name is Miss Lennon. I’ll be your teacher for some duration of time. “I say placing my bag down besides my new desk.

“Miss Lennon?” One of the students at the front calls out. I quick placing the stuff I need onto the table and get back up before addressing him.

“Yes?”

“Can you catch a knife?” He smirks.

“Um… “ I laugh nervously, “That’s a strange question-” My voice is cut off by a high pitch, yet quick whistling sound, followed by a sudden impact upon my chest that throws me back against the blackboard. I scream out in surprise and as I look down at my chest, my breathing increases to a rapid rate.

“D-Did you just… Throw a knife at me!?” I shout out in disbelief. The class roars into laughter.

I scramble to pick myself up and gently place both my hands onto the knife stuck onto my chest, I slowly pick it out allowing the object to drop out of my hand as soon as it was out. The knife clatters on the ground.

“Miss, you’re looking a little pale,” said a small girl also sitting at the front row of the classroom.

“I… I…” I fumble with my words, struggling to form any kind of sentence. I’m beyond grateful for the principle for the vest he had given, but then it sinks in… He knew. I pull myself, anger starting to brew within me, but the fear I now feel towards the children is still evident.

I clear my throat, “Who… Where did you get that knife from?”

“I got one when I came here Miss.” He smiles innocently, “But it’s nothing like my daddies, his one is a lot sharper he has a whole collection!”

“Oh shut it Brad, nobody wants to hear that story over and over again.” The tired voice comes from the top left corner of the classroom; on the last row is a male student with long shaggy hair, his head resting upon the desk.

I’ll cut off the mop on your head and rip out your heart.” Brad threatens, taking out another knife from under his desk. The two boys stand from their seats and slowly march up to one another. I instinctively run in between them my mind briefly forgetting that these students are armed and dangerous.

“L-Look you two, I don’t know how or where you got these weapons from, but you can’t use them. They’re not toys, put them down go to your seats, right now.”

The two points stop in their checks and look from myself, to each other and then back to me. Brad laughs.

“Miss, do you know where you are?”

“Y-Yes, St. Cain’s Private School…” I answer; feeling a bit puzzled at the sudden question.

“Exactly, a School that takes in troubled kids and trains them to become killers.” The boy with the shaggy hair continues.

“… What?” I look at them both, dumbfounded. I take a couple of step back from the two boys, my eyes begin to wonder around the room and I look upon all the faces of the children around me. I start to see crazed eyes upon some of their faces, I see scars and bruises evident on the fragile yet hardened skins of many of them.

Before I know it, I’ve backed myself up against the door of the classroom, my back pressing upon its rough wooden surface. Brad and the shaggy haired boy slowly approach me.

“Oh well isn’t this interesting Marcus!” Brad shouted.

“Oh… She didn’t know.” Marcus too concludes. “I think she might be our target for today.”

At the mention of the word everybody in the classroom seems to gain a simultaneous buzz of excitement. They start shuffling in their seats and whispering to each other, giggling and glancing over at me with mischievous smiles.

“I call dibs!” Brad shouts out, flexing the knife in his hand.

“You can’t call dibs, we have to wait for-” But before Marcus can finish what he’s saying, brad bolts from the spot and rushes towards me, his knife piercing through the air, its target: Me. My eyes wide open, heart pulsing fast and hard, all that I can think of is

“I’m going to die.”

Just before Brad reaches me I hear the knob of the door rattle and I jump away as it swings open. A the blurry motion of figure zooms past my vision and when I look back to the classroom, I see Brad on the floor, his head pressed against the ground and his hand twisted to his back. The knife lies on the ground besides him.

“So sorry about that Miss Lennon” The principle says keeping Brad in the hold.

“What… What…” Is all I can say as my legs fall week and my body droops to the ground? Everyone in the classroom, who isn’t sat, rushes to their seats, and those already sitting adjust their postures and take on the personas of well-behaved kids. I can’t seem to believe my eyes.

“I see you’ve warmed up to the kids a little bit, that’s good.” He looks me directly in the eyes and smiles.

“He… He tried to kill me!” I shout, my mind going from refusing to believe any of it, to acknowledging the truth of the situation. These kids are dangerous.

“Yes about that… I’m so very glad that you answered our request for a teacher here so quickly. But I’m afraid I may not have told you the full story and missed telling you what you’d be doing here exactly.” The principle lets go of Brad who jumps to his feet, rubbing at his wrist. He stares at me with an expression of hatred before turning around and returning to his seat.

“We sent you in without prior knowledge to see how you’d react, and to also give the children a taste of how their victim would act. It’s their first time you.”

“First time… What?” I ask him cautiously, not exactly wanting to hear the answer myself, but the question was out and the answer came just as quickly.

“This is first time attempting to kill someone.” He laughs, as if it were something obvious. “Well now that you know what we’re really doing here, I’ll tell you what you’ll be doing for us exactly. The door to the classroom is open. The campus is empty. You are to get as far as you can without these little ones killing you.

How long do you think you can survive?” He asks his smile still present on his face. Suddenly the school’s bell chimes, the principle looks at his watch and then back at him.

“Looks like it’s time. Run.” And with those words I turn on my heels and sprint out of the room.

This is too much, this can’t be happening, is this all really?? Are the questions flooding my mind as I run down the corridor I had gone up when I arrived? I find that I’m so focused on the thoughts within my mind and the sudden fright of the situation   that I forget to slow down and I slam right into the door. The force of the impact doesn’t throw me to the floor, but I quickly realize that the door is locked, even as I grasp the hands with a strong grip and desperately pull on them as hard as I can.

I turn to run in the opposite the direction, hoping that there’s another way to the entrance, but I soon as my body rotates, I’m met with the image of Brad standing by the classroom door,  knives in hand and smiling at me sweetly.

“Y-You don’t have to do this Brad, I’m sure you’re a sweet kid. If these adults are forcing you to do this, you don’t have to!” I plead to him, trying my best to get through to some tender and kind side of him. But when his expression drops, when I see the lack of life in his eyes and the words that follow, I know there’s no saving him from whatever darkness he was thrown into.

“Oh but Miss… I want to do this.” And with that he starts to slowly walk up to me, his arm stretched out besides him, allowing the knife to scrape against the surface of the wall, emitting a loud and irritating noise.

All I can do is shake my head in denial, allow the hot tears of despair to spill from my eyes, and my vision to be obscured by the towering structure of Brad as I collapse to the ground.

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