Staff Writer
The Bulletin
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By Shannen Mavros

Grade 10

Woodstock Academy

The blood is on the walls. The scene is sickening, but not nearly as grotesque as the screams that had pierced the silent night only hours ago. The screams are gone now, and the sad fact is that I’m relieved. The irony of these words is so sick, but I am glad the screams have stopped.

The blood is on the walls. I don’t recognize this place. My world has gone gray, but I still see the blood. That sick little mess. I want to crawl away. Back into my cave. So I can hide, so I can be safe, like I was before.

I don’t understand what would case a person to commit such an act. Why a person would take a knife, destroy a life. Is it mindless, or is there a purpose?

I stand in the psycho’s aftermath, in the blood he left behind. The lives are gone, and he left me alone.

I stand staring at the mess, the shattered glass, the broken pieces scattered in pools of deep red. I cry out, but no one is left to hear me. The psycho, he killed them all. Every last one.

Now though, I stand here. The blood is on the walls. My memories fall, not all in place. A puzzle, I’m slowly putting together. The blood, it’s everywhere. The blood is on the floor, dripping from the walls. The blood is on the knife, and the knife is in my hand.

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