Creepy Chronicles of Colaiste Chiarain

No​ ​blinking​ ​by​ ​Rachael​ ​Allen​ ​Taylor
Rain​ ​falls​ ​like​ ​it​ ​means​ ​to​ ​wash​ ​us​ ​away,​ ​like​ ​it​ ​means​ ​to​ ​keep
hammering​ ​until​ ​we​ ​smudge​ ​like​ ​a​ ​Monet​ ​masterpiece.
It​ ​sounds​ ​like​ ​the​ ​heavens​ ​are​ ​knocking​ ​on​ ​our​ ​door,​ ​roof​ ​and​ ​window
panes.​ ​Today​ ​is​ ​a​ ​day​ ​of​ ​certain​ ​wetness,​ ​even​ ​as​ ​I​ ​sit​ ​to​ ​watch​ ​the
downpour​ ​uncontrollable​ ​drops​ ​fall​ ​on​ ​the​ ​window​ ​pane.
I​ ​sat​ ​down​ ​typing​ ​away​ ​in​ ​room​ ​36,​ ​the​ ​German​ ​room.​ ​Earlier​ ​in​ ​the
morning​ ​the​ ​blue​ ​that​ ​stretched​ ​into​ ​the​ ​horizon​ ​had​ ​only​ ​been​ ​broken
only​ ​by​ ​unstable​ ​wisps​ ​of​ ​white.​ ​Now​ ​it​ ​threaded​ ​across​ ​the​ ​sky​ ​in
thicker​ ​bands.​ ​Yet​ ​they​ ​were​ ​still​ ​white​ ​with​ ​hardly​ ​a​ ​trace​ ​of​ ​grey​ ​and
I​ ​dispelled​ ​worries​ ​of​ ​rain.​ ​The​ ​students​ ​had​ ​left​ ​the​ ​school​ ​and​ ​there
were​ ​a​ ​few​ ​teachers​ ​left.​ ​It​ ​was​ ​getting​ ​darker​ ​by​ ​the​ ​minute.​ ​Teachers
going​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​school.​ ​Soon​ ​I​ ​was​ ​the​ ​only​ ​one​ ​left​ ​typing​ ​away​ ​trying
to​ ​finish​ ​correcting​ ​tests​ ​for​ ​my​ ​classes​ ​and​ ​write​ ​up​ ​exams​ ​for​ ​my​ ​6th
years.​ ​A​ ​shadow​ ​swifted​ ​passed​ ​the​ ​window.​ ​I​ ​glanced​ ​over;​ ​there​ ​was
nothing​ ​there.​ ​I​ ​heard​ ​a​ ​key​ ​turn​ ​in​ ​the​ ​lock.​ ​I​ ​honestly​ ​thought​ ​this
was​ ​a​ ​joke.​ ​The​ ​lights​ ​started​ ​to​ ​flicker.​ ​The​ ​shadow​ ​appeared,​ ​the
voice​ ​was​ ​like​ ​iron​ ​nails​ ​dragged​ ​over​ ​rock.​ ​It​ ​rose​ ​and​ ​fell,​ ​never​ ​once
making​ ​the​ ​words​ ​audible.​ ​Then​ ​the​ ​eyes​ ​that​ ​had​ ​been​ ​as​ ​white​ ​as​ ​the
naked​ ​body​ ​turned​ ​to​ ​black​ ​and​ ​the​ ​mouth​ ​stretched​ ​wide​ ​in​ ​an
eternal​ ​scream.​ ​No​ ​matter​ ​how​ ​much​ ​I​ ​screamed​ ​for​ ​help,​ ​no​ ​voice
would​ ​come​ ​out…​ ​or​ ​so​ ​I​ ​thought.​ ​In​ ​truth​ ​there​ ​was​ ​simply​ ​no-one
left​ ​to​ ​hear,​ ​or​ ​rather​ ​no-one​ ​with​ ​the​ ​capacity​ ​to​ ​respond.​ ​I​ ​ran​ ​to​ ​the
door​ ​in​ ​a​ ​blink​ ​of​ ​an​ ​eye​ ​struggling​ ​to​ ​open​ ​it.​ ​I​ ​couldn't​ ​take​ ​it
anymore.​ ​Burning​ ​rage​ ​hissed​ ​through​ ​my​ ​body​ ​like​ ​deathly​ ​poison,
screeching​ ​a​ ​demanded​ ​release​ ​in​ ​the​ ​form​ ​of​ ​unwanted​ ​violence.​ ​It
was​ ​like​ ​a​ ​volcano​ ​erupting;​ ​rage​ ​sweeping​ ​off​ ​me​ ​like​ ​ferocious
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