Bus 568

 

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

They keep going and going...

They never stop....

7:45 a.m. Monday....

I jolt out of bed, startled by the loud gutteral squeal of Bus 568. God I hated that sound. Who needs an alarm right? 

The school bus stood there across the street on the corner where the Stop sign was. The bus was elongated like a centipede, comprising of the most vile toxic students of Baum Highschool.  Did Hubby seriously have to look for month to month rentals by the damn highschool? 

They step on the bus one by one after finishing then flicking their cigarette butts onto the ground and stomping the lit up butt with their heels. Oh my God, you are soo cool, I thought sarcastically rolling my eyes. But they hop on Bus 568, one by one. For breakfast they consumed nicotine and malicious and life sabotage intended gossip. And I hear it... 

I hear every word..

Every single word...

"So did you see what Kyle posted last night?!"

"I know! The likes keep increasing"!

"Mel, you have some nerve, shaming Raquel all over social media for going out with Ritchie after YOU are the one who cheated on him! You are a waste of human space! 

"You better text your parents goodbye, because after school, you won't be going back home"...

Oh their endless and soulless chatter never ceases to end.. I hate highschool teenagers..

But then why do I feel so scared all of a sudden?  What is supposed to be so unnerving and frightening about Bus 568? Obnoxious teenagers are supposed to get on your nerves not scare you right? But I was scared. My heart fluttered and my nightgown began to stick to my body's apprehensive perspiration. My Husband slept soundly and peacefully. But I was feeling anything but peaceful...

I woke up and after processing my feelings from my dream about Bus 568, I carried on with my day as usual. I tried not to think about it...

A couple of days and nights were okay I guess. I tried not to make myself miserable over one strange dream. But on Friday 7:45 a.m., Bus 568 was back..

Same stop.

This time it didn't exactly squeal. It sounded like a slightly angry roar that blended in with the high schoolers abuse towards one another. 

"You can go rot in fucking Hell after what you did to me!"

"Oh come on, you know you wanted it.. Easy bitches like you always do"..

"Let's bring Marcus to the alcove after school, you record and upload it"! 

"Oh man Nick, Lisa doesn't believe in showers. I can't believe I ever tapped that! "

Geez, why am I hearing this??  

My heart was starting tighten in my chest. The perspiration was still there but the apprehensive energy escalated. And escalated over what exactly??? 

Teenagers are scary I get that. Hell, I dreaded having my own one day. Maybe I can tell myself that to feel better and maybe poke some humor about it. But there was nothing funny about how I was feeling right now...

I woke up. I still had beads of sweat pouring down my forehead. My Husband had left for work. I was all alone in our cozy apartment. But was I truly alone? 

The horrendous chatter of the damn teenagers echoed non stop in my brain. I heard the commotion all day long as though it was taunting me. It was as though it was trying to lead me somewhere. But where and why? 

The tightness in my chest eased up slightly when my Husband came home. Dinner hadn't even been prepared for. Was I so enmeshed in my own fear and misery over a dream that I actually forgot to cook for my husband?? 

And even following that confusion, my fear and paranoia over Bus 568 and those no soul poor excuses of teenagers hadn't ceased. In fact, it only got worse...

Monday 7:45 a.m.

I didn't wake up out of bed like I normally do. In fact, I wondered when or if I even slept at all. Only Bus 568 knew the answer. I just sat in my living room, looking outside the window, stirring in hot flashes and anxiety as Bus 568s red lights burned a hole through my soul. The bus driver stepped down the bus for a quick cigarette. I peered at this old , lanky , unkept man with a cap. His gray hair seeped out of his cap to the tip of his collar bone. It looked unwashed from where I could make out. Then after he was done smoking his cigarette, he dropped it to the ground and put the light out with a belligerent stomp. Maybe he envisioned the smoked cigarette as the head of one of those gnarly teens. He must have been doing this for too long, I thought. Was the pay even good or worth the aggravation and abuse, one has to wonder. Maybe he had a family at home he was still supporting. But only he knows why he chose to drive Bus 568. And all I knew was that I was still scared. More than ever. The bus driver, from the stop right across the street, looked up into my direction. He looked straight at me! All of a sudden I jolted up and stood still, paralyzed with fear. The bus driver took one good look at me and I was able to make out the sadness and discontent expression on his face.  He shook his head then hopped onto the belligerent bus. I was still unable to move as I was stuck standing in place. The bus driver put his seatbelt on, and took out what looked like a flask. My eyes squinted with curiosity as the bus driver opened his flask and took a massive gulp. Oh my God, is he drinking and driving??!!  And I still can't budge to stop him!!! 

Panic began rising in my throat morphing into a full blown yell. 

"STOP!!!" I cried out. 

"Honey! Honey!!, are you okay?!", my Husband cried out shaking me. I had another nightmare apparently. He woke me from my severe state of panic. I looked at him and around our bedroom. I ran outside the bedroom door into the living room. The living room didn't look previously occupied so I had to have been dreaming. 

But the bus driver hadn't left me yet. Did the years of this thankless job  drive him to drink? Drinking and driving is wrong in EVERY sense of the word yet I actually felt I could understand the bus driver. 

By now, I have gotten too accustomed to my patterns of nightmares about Bus 568. It came back for me the beginning and end of the dreaded school week. Mondays were always an anxiety inducing dreaded drag. Fridays should have screamed TGIF but it didn't. Because one way or another Bus 568 wasn't going to re route its way out of my head and out of my life. 

Friday 7:45 a.m.

Bus 568 stopped at a demonic halting guttural screech. It sounded angry. I wasn't immobile like last time so maybe I could chase the drunk bus driver down or even call the police. I opened the door, hoping to confront the bus driver and possibly save the toxic teens, even though they didn't deserve it. As I opened the door, and attempted to step down to the porch, I realized I wasn't stepping foot on my property anymore. I found myself stepping up onto Bus 568, and I wasn't even in my nightgown. I was wearing a long gray skirt with a black blouse with a small knapsack on my back. My eyes widened with horror as I glared at the environment around me. The door abruptly closed shut behind me. I wasn't going to get out of this Hell easily this much I knew. But what do I do in the meantime? I am stuck on this evil bus with a creepy bus driver and at the mercy of the evil teenagers. As I gingerly walked over to an empty seat, the rowdiness amplified worse than I imagined. One boy heckled at me. "Hey Megan, think fast"! Before I could even register in my mind to duck, I felt the hard impact of an egg shooting at me straight into my abdomen, splattering yolk all over my clothes. "Aw Meg can't play a basic game of catch, the boy snickered".  He wasn't the only one. Drenched in that messy yolk, I tried to browse the bus for an empty seat. I approached two boys passing a joint and one puffed that horrendous weed smoke right in my face. I coughed so hard I actually fell to the ground. The entire bus pointed and laughed at me. Garbage was thrown at me, I was being pelted with adolescent messes. One of the girls raised up my skirt from behind me. Another girl spit her gum in my hair. I was being pushed, pulled, kicked and bullied.....

All over again.....

I was still unable to scream as the bus driver looked into the rearview mirror. He placed his flask down and stopped the bus. He got up and turned around. I saw his name badge. Charlie Drake it read. 

I looked up at him and his dark beady eyes stared down at me.  He wasn't trying to stop the bullies. But his eyes started to tell me something....

My Husband was stroking my hair and cheek as I woke up shivering. But I wasn't in my apartment. I was in the hospital! But what for?? Was I really sick? Or was I going insane? I tried to speak but my Husband raised his finger to my lips immediately.

"Shh, my love. It's okay. You were sleepwalking and crossing the street. Plus you have a temperature of 103."

So that's what it was the whole time.. 

I was sick. And I was sleepwalking. I do get kind of loopy when I am sick with a severe stomach virus which is what I had. But does this mean that it was never real? Nothing. No Bus 568. No obnoxious soulless teenagers. No Charlie Drake. They never existed! Oh my God, I was safe! I was at peace! I finally sat up and this time with ease. I was going to go home now finally. 

My Husband was talking to the Doctor briefly before coming back in to help me up, and get ready to sign me out. 

I put my coat on and shoes, then followed my Husband out. 

As we walked out, my Husband began walking at a rapid pace as though he was trying to get away from me. "Jeff, wait up!", I cried behind him. Jeff just kept sprint walking so fast that I end up losing him in the hospital. I opened the door and didn't end up outside the hospital building. 

I ended up back on the bus. Bus 568. The condemned bus. The door shut behind me abruptly as I reluctantly climbed up the bus steps dreading seeing the students and Charlie Drake. My palpitations got so bad that I almost felt dizzy. I walked closer to the bus' seating and gasped so hard I fell back.

All the teenagers were sitting on the bus dead!!! They were brutally massacred. I stumbled across what was most probably a boy's foot or what was left of it. One boy's dead eyes stared directly at me as though he was accusing me. But of what though? Was any of it my fault? Charlie Drake was the one who did this, there was no doubt in my mind. And yet a wave of understanding began to wash over me as I studied the bus macabre. I don't ever wish harm on anyone but the last time I ever had such vindictive thoughts was when I was bullied in highschool. Though I never acted on it, the dark thoughts had crossed my mind on several occasions. But for Charlie Drake? The bus driver had a very thankless job. He had taken too much abuse from these no soul teenagers too and it is possible his mind had snapped. But I knew I had to get off Bus 568 before mine did too. However, the door was bolted shut. I had my back turned to the left and I felt a girl's hand slightly brush my shoulder. I turned around startled and the dead girl's eyes opened! 

That is when I finally screamed.

And screamed 

And screamed.

Hells Bells were in full retreat now.

I was still screaming when I woke up in the hospital. That's where I was, back at the hospital in this hellish loop. My Husband and Doctor both tried to restrain me as I could only make out one name in my state of extreme panic..

"Charlie Drake"...

The doctor's olive colored face turned ghost white as his eyes widened in terror. My Husband was confused.

"Who did you say"?, my Husband asked with a hint of concern in his tone.

I couldn't take my eyes off the Doctor who was not only white as a ghost now, but was trembling. 

"Doctor, do you know who Charlie Drake is? I have been having frequent nightmares since moving to our new rental four months ago. We live around the block from Baum Highschool. I have been seeing this condemned bus in my dreams and its scaring the hell out of me. The dreams are too vivid". 

I knew I was rambling but if anyone could help me at all it had to be a doctor right? Even though he wasn't a shrink, he should still br able to help me. He had to. I was beyond desperate at this point.

But the Doctor was scared himself. He attempted to regain his bearings as he asked my Husband to please wait outside. The Doctor sat on my Hospital bed and leaned closer. 

"Charlie Drake can't hurt you now."

The Doctor pulled out his phone and did a search online. A ten year old article popped up. He showed me his phone screen.

"Baum Highschool School Bus Massacre: An Axe Wielding Maniacal Driver and 30 Students Dead.."

I gasped in shock as I saw a picture of Charlie Drake in his greasy cap, lanky frame holding up his tattered jacket and clothes. His grin was rotted from years of smoking and alcohol use. And Bus 568 was in the back drop. 

So these were only nightmares but my block was still condemned. There was only one solution and that was to move out of this town and far away from Baum Highschool. In fact the next place we moved to was three towns over, with a beautiful co-op. Good, I needed an indoor building I thought. I'd be safe if I never looked outside to see a school bus again. 

For a good three months into our new home, there were no nightmares. But I was still unable to get Charlie Drake off my mind....

I took the elevator downstairs to retrieve my mail. The lobby was dead silent as my eyes darted to a notice on the bulletin board. I had to do a double take at what I thought I was reading...

"Charlie Drake, Maintenance Department"....

I stepped back but didn't flinch. In fact, I wasn't even shocked anymore. I just stared at the name on the board in a trance. A gravel like voice crept up from behind me, and I turned around slowly but bravely. 

There he was right behind me. Charlie Drake...

You might be wondering what happened next...

Nothing happened. That's just it...

"I had to", Charlie said, his voice a gravely whisper. "You understand don't you"?

I looked into Charlie Drake's eyes, and for a second, Bus 568's red lights beamed into my eyes, but then they were gone. All I saw was Charlie Drake's sad face. 

"Yes, I do"...

One Month Later ..

"Asses in the seats and buckle up kids"!, I hollered. The toxic teenagers of Seaton Highschool got situated, as I drove them to school. 

Fictional Story Written By Zainab Ali 

Into The Gravel Pit (2025)

 

Pass the joint..
Pass the blunt..
Pass the pill .
Pass the substance...
Pass the truth...
Pass your doom....

Friends who go on "trips" together, stay together...

The plot treads carefully with a WTF or OMG moment that ensues. The shock value comes out of nowhere. 

Lisa Wilcox reprises her maternal role, bringing familiarity to Horror Fans. The emotional depth she brings to her performance, demonstrates the love and heartbreak only a Mother could feel. The narrative is unsettling, weighing on the emotional turmoil Lisa Wilcox's character is undergoing. The entire supporting cast delivers a powerful and emotional performance, which convey a very important message:

Just ..

Say...

NO!

10/10 rating!

My Dear Debbie Doe Eyes

The local tavern on Fawn Drive was where it all began. Jackson Sinclair, 30, had only wanted a drink that evening. The tavern was nestled deep in the wilderness, hidden away from the bustling world. Deer roamed freely in the surrounding woods, their graceful movements adding an almost theatrical touch to the secluded setting. Inside, the tavern exuded a nostalgic charm. The smell of aged pine lingered in the air, mingling with the soft hum of a jazz tune playing from an old jukebox. Dim lighting cast shadows along the wood-paneled walls, and the mounted deer head above the bar seemed to watch over every patron, its glassy, muddled eyes unrelenting. Jackson hadn’t planned to stop there. In fact, he didn’t even know why he’d taken that route. But something—some pull he couldn’t explain—had brought him to this place.

 And that’s when he saw her. Debbie sat alone at the bar, her dark green dress clinging to her lean, slender figure. Her long, flowing brown hair with golden streaks framed an angelic face. But it was her eyes—those wide, bold, mesmerizing doe eyes—that truly stopped Jackson in his tracks. “Is this seat taken?” Debbie asked, her voice soft yet inviting. “Not anymore,” Jackson replied, his lips curving into a small smile. 

 From that moment, everything changed. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and by the end of the night, Jackson knew he’d met someone extraordinary. Within months, they were married. At their wedding, Jackson whispered, “My Dear Debbie Doe Eyes, I’ll love you forever.” It became their thing, a phrase Jackson used so often it felt like a spell he couldn’t help but utter. Their first year of marriage was idyllic. Debbie’s eyes lit up Jackson’s world, and her laugh was a melody he couldn’t live without. No matter where they went—be it a quaint cabin or a bustling city—it was never about the destination. It was only about being with her.

 “You make everywhere feel like home,” Jackson once told her during a quiet walk on the beach. Debbie had laughed, her doe eyes glinting in the sunlight. “And you make me feel like I belong, but you are going to burn a hole through me if you keep staring into my eyes like that "! 

 "But you are my Dear Debbie Doe Eyes ", Jackson laughed right back. Jackson found himself captivated by her every glance, every movement. Life felt perfect, like a dream he never wanted to wake from. 

 But dreams always end. One evening, a simple disagreement spiraled into their first real argument. It was about money—a common fight, but one that carried weight. Debbie had grown frustrated with Jackson’s spending, especially after he purchased an expensive tie when his car needed repairs. “It was just a tie!” Jackson snapped, his voice rising. “Why do you always blow things out of proportion?” Debbie’s doe eyes darkened with hurt, and she took a step back. “I’m trying to keep us afloat, Jackson. But you just don’t care, do you?” In a flash of frustration, Jackson punched the wall, the sound echoing through their home. Silence fell between them. Debbie stared at the hole in the wall, her doe eyes no longer sparkling. They were filled with sadness and betrayal. Jackson’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, stepping toward her. “I didn’t mean it. Please, let’s fix this.” Debbie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t touch me,” she said softly. “I need to go for a drive and clear my head.” She grabbed her coat and left, leaving Jackson standing in stunned silence. Jackson waited all night, calling her repeatedly. Each call went to voicemail, and by 3 a.m., her phone was dead. 

 Then came the knock at the door. Jackson opened it to find two police officers standing on his porch, their faces grim. “Mr. Sinclair,” one said, “may we come in?” Jackson’s heart pounded as fragments of their words filtered through his shock:

 Fawn Drive. Tavern. Hit by a car. Dead. 

 The world blurred around him. His Dear Debbie Doe Eyes was gone. 

 A month after the funeral, Jackson was a broken man. Grief consumed him, and he found himself spiraling. One evening, desperate for escape, he decided to drive to the liquor store. 

 As he drove, the familiar streets transformed. Houses and streetlights vanished, replaced by an endless stretch of trees. Ahead, the road sign read Fawn Drive. Jackson’s stomach twisted as he saw the tavern emerge from the shadows. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. 

 Then he saw it—a lifeless deer lying on the shoulder of the road. “Oh my God,” Jackson whispered. He stopped the car and approached the animal. As he knelt beside it, the deer opened its eyes. 

 “Please, Jackson, my love. Please,” it whispered in Debbie’s voice. 

 Jackson’s breath hitched as tears streamed down his face. 

“Debbie? I’m so sorry, my love. Please come back to me. We can fix this—together.” 

 The deer’s eyes darkened, swirling like pools of shadow, and it let out a guttural, unearthly moan. Jackson screamed as the world went black.

 Jackson woke drenched in sweat, his body trembling. He raced to the bathroom, but when he opened the door, he wasn’t in his home anymore. He was back at the tavern. A bunch of female patrons were sitting at the bar with their backs turned. 

 The deer head on the wall seemed alive, its muddled eyes fixed on him. 

 Then he saw her amongst the rest of the patrons. Debbie, in her dark green dress, walked toward him, her doe eyes glistening. 

 “Do you want to dance?” she asked. 

 “Yes,” Jackson whispered, his voice breaking. 

He pulled her close as the jukebox came alive with jazz. But as they swayed, everything dissolved into darkness. 

 Jackson woke again, this time in his bed. Debbie lay beside him. 

 “It was just a dream,” he muttered. "Oh my God honey, I had the most insane nightmare!" 

 But as Debbie sat up, she didn’t look at him. She got out of bed, wearing the green dress from his nightmare. Jackson followed her, his fear mounting as he noticed hoofprints on the carpet. In the bathroom mirror, a diabolical deer stared back at him. The door slammed shut, and when Jackson turned, he was back at the tavern. The women he’d seen earlier turned toward him. They were all Debbie. The deer head roared as the Debbies morphed into deer, their bodies elongating, hooves ripping through their dresses. They surrounded Jackson, their glowing eyes locking onto him.

 Jackson woke up screaming. There were deer guarding his bedside. One deer approached Jackson and whispered in Debbie's voice.

 “You will always belong to us, Jackson"..

***Fictional Story Written By Zainab Ali***

Flight Of Stairs

Flight of Stairs

Susie's bedroom was a typical girl's room. Stuffed animals on one shelf, books on the other. Pictures of her and her boyfriend hanging on her walls. Her bedroom walls had a faint lavender tone. Even at 25 Susie would always be a little girl at heart. She felt the safest in her bedroom. She got all the privacy in the world, nobody to bother her. Plus it was her safe haven from the big bad world as she liked to call it. There were so many bad things going on in the world but none of it would affect Susie as long as she was in her little bedroom. After work, Susie couldn't wait to go home and get under the covers all tucked safely in bed. Her and her boyfriend Joe also spent a good majority of their time watching movies in her bedroom. Susie was grateful for that little safe space she had. 

At 11:30 P.M. Susie stepped out of her room to go downstairs to the kitchen to make a hot cup of cocoa. She was getting ready to watch a movie. After she made her cocoa, she walked right to her bedroom and opened the door. Susie dropped her cocoa and gasped. Her bedroom had changed! The walls were black. No pictures hanging on the wall. No stuffed toys. No TV. No bed. No nothing! It was just an empty room Susie entered. "How could this be?" she thought panic struck. "I'm imagining this. I'm probably dreaming". Susie makes hot cocoa all the time. And today of all days, in just a very brief moment, her bedroom changed! She stepped out of her safe haven for less than ten minutes and got back and now nothing was the same. Susie felt confused and scared. There had to be an explanation but there was none that she could see. The room was a dark silent room. To the right corner, Susie saw a door. But that was impossible. Susie did not have a door that led outside. She felt the need to approach the door and open it but was so afraid of what could have been behind the door that she wanted to resist. She turned around and tried to run out of the room to the hallway of the house, but that door was gone! The only door that was left was the new one Susie was afraid to open. But if she didn't open the door then she would be trapped. Trapped in this eerie and silent room. 

"HELP!" Susie cried out. 

"Mom, Dad, HELP ME!". Nobody came to her rescue. Susie walked to the door and put her ear against it. She didn't hear anything. Her heart was racing so fast to the point where she felt it was going to burst right out of her chest. She opened the door. All she saw was a flight of stairs. 

A very long flight of stairs leading up. Susie was confused. "Now I know I have to be dreaming", she thought. She walked up the dark lit stairs. It was a never ending stair case. But where did it lead to? Was it going to lead to somewhere safe? Susie looked behind her and the staircase going back down was so dark like a black hole that she was afraid if she lost her balance, she would fall right in. The stair case would swallow her whole. She continued to walk up. And up. And up. Going back down was no option now. It was as though with every step she took, the previous step was chipping away. Her room was now a distant image in her mind. She no longer felt safe. She had a gut wrenching feeling that she may never see her room again. 

She continued to walk up. And up. And up.After a long travel up the flight of stairs in what it seemed like slow motion, Susie finally found a door. She was so hesitant to open this door too for she had no clue what could be behind this door, but she could not go back down. The flight of stairs will eat her alive. Susie opened the door and there was a hallway. The hallway had doors. It looked like she was in a someone's house. It was a nice looking carpeted hallway. 

Susie heard screaming coming from one of the doors. She shrieked so hard but unable to scream herself. "STOP! PLEASE"! Susie heard cries of what sounded like a young woman who was being attacked. Susie ran towards the door where she heard the screams from and saw the door was open a crack. A woman was being bludgeoned to death by a crazy mad man. And Susie was watching it happen! She stood there in shock and unable to move. But the man and woman in the room did not even acknowledge her presence. It's like she was watching a movie but up close and personal. Susie looked back and headed out the door. The room diagonal from that room where the woman was being attacked, Susie saw a German Shepherd. It was whimpering as though it was wounded. Susie tried to walk towards the dog in the other room and saw the dog's fur was matted in blood. The dog was sitting in a blood bath. There was a man lying next to the dog dead! It was THAT same man who attacked THAT woman in the other room! Susie let out a scream finally. She tried to run back as hard as she could. She ran towards the same door in which she came in through the flight of dark stairs, opened it, and started screaming. The stairs opened up and Susie was falling in. Like a black hole, she was getting swallowed in.

At 12:30 A.M., Susie woke up in a bed at the local county hospital. The doctor came over to her and put his hand on her head and smiled. "You had one helluva nasty fall there kiddo. You have some broken ribs and a bad concussion. But it could have been worse. You are lucky you did not break your neck with the kind of trip you had. Maybe next time you won't leave things lying on the stair case for you to trip over." Susie was so groggy  but still remembered her dream. 

In her dream she didn't fall down the stairs, she was being eaten alive by the stairs. It was so dark and so vivid. Then she heard doctors yelling down the hallway that caused her to jump right out of her drugged up state. They sounded panic struck. From her bed, Susie saw right outside her hospital room. She saw doctors frantically transporting away a woman who had been through a very horrific accident. Susie all of a sudden began to feel beads of sweat rolling down her face and her air supply being labored. It was the same woman in her dream who was being bludgeoned the death by that man! The doctor came into Susie's room to check in on her shortly and saw Susie was as white as a ghost. "Is everything ok"? he asked her. 

"I have to get out of here Doctor. Please! That woman...that woman you just wheeled by my room, she was attacked by a crazy man...please Doctor, I am scared", Susie pleaded. The doctor tried to calm Susie down. "There is no need to worry. You just relax now. That man is not going to hurt anybody again. He was a crazy jealous boyfriend who was way too possessive of his girlfriend. She tried to leave him and he wouldn't hear of it. Shortly after he had killed her, the woman's guard dog attacked and killed him."

There was no more mad man on the loose. 

Fictional Story Written By Zainab Ali

No Silence Please...

---

No Silence Please...

Mrs. Lane Anderson’s 11th-grade classroom had been her second home for forty years. She’d seen good days and bad, wrangling hormonally unpredictable teenagers. The driven, studious kids aiming for college often became targets of those who pushed boundaries, lacking the same motivation. Handling these dynamics came with the territory.

That night, Mrs. Anderson went to bed hoping for a peaceful sleep—she needed to be in the right headspace for the Algebra test she’d prepared for her often-thankless adolescents.

She drifted into a deep sleep almost instantly. In her dream, she was back in her classroom, facing three former students who should have graduated by now: Patrick, Andrea, and Sean.

“Alright, Patrick, Andrea, Sean—who can tell me how to construct a truth table?” She didn’t know why she’d asked it; it was a random math question, but this was a dream, after all.

The students only stared back at her with an unnerving, blank gaze. Math could be tricky, sure, but the silence felt strange. Their expressions held a deep stillness, almost as if they didn’t see her at all.

“Anyone?” Mrs. Anderson asked, her voice faltering. Still, no answer—just those stares. She woke up abruptly, unnerved. Shrugging it off, she got up, showered, and prepared for the long day ahead.

The day of the Algebra test, the students were restless, and the classroom felt stifling. She tried to ignore her lingering unease. She had to push through; if her students wanted to graduate, they’d have to suffer through this mentally exhausting test.

“Silence, please!” she ordered.

It had been a taxing day. Drained, she collapsed on her sofa at home, too tired to cook. She questioned her career choice—teaching often felt so thankless. Soon, she was asleep again, slipping back into a familiar nightmare.

Once more, she was in her classroom. Patrick, Andrea, and Sean were seated before her.

“Who can tell me where the element mercury is found?” she asked, her voice echoing in the eerie stillness. They stared back, but this time, their eyes were different—deeper, accusatory, laced with something almost vengeful. Mrs. Anderson shivered. Maybe they were here to punish her for failing them when they’d deserved it. These three had been the biggest bullies in their grade, the unruliest of students. Detentions meant nothing to them, but their popularity had made them untouchable.

But now, they were silent, their eyes fixated on her with an intensity that felt otherworldly. Mrs. Anderson turned to write on the board, but when she turned back, she found them standing ominously close to her desk. Frozen in place, her body refused to move. She watched in horror as they marched back to their seats in eerie unison, their eyes never leaving her.

Then, as if slumping into sleep, each of their heads dropped forward. To Mrs. Anderson’s shock, blood began to pool around their desks, slowly spreading across the floor. She jolted awake.

At 6 a.m., Mrs. Anderson shot up, shivering uncontrollably. She’d overslept and couldn’t even remember falling asleep. Only when she glanced at her clock did she realize it was Saturday—not Friday. Yet, she felt an urgent pull to go to her classroom. The nightmares were getting worse.

By 11 a.m., she found herself at the empty school. The building was as silent as a tomb, but she felt compelled to sit in her cold, eerie classroom, staring at each desk. Her thoughts were interrupted when Margaret, one of her former students, entered.

“Why did you call me here, Lane?” Margaret asked.

“Listen, I’ve kept this secret buried for years. But they’re haunting me in my nightmares, every single night.” Mrs. Anderson’s voice was barely a whisper.

Margaret stood casually, her hands behind her back, but her gaze was fixed and serious. “They were supposed to graduate with me two years ago, but they chose a different path.” She looked down, her expression darkening. “Patrick… he humiliated me after prom. Posted things all over social media. I thought he loved me. He told me he did, that prom was going to be our special night.”

Margaret’s voice broke, and she began to sob.

“After that night, he ghosted me. I thought he was going to apologize, but he told me we were ‘too young to commit,’ and that it ‘was for the best.’ Then I saw him in the courtyard, laughing with Sean, like my pain was some kind of malicious game. Andrea even threatened to ‘beat my skull in’ if I so much as looked at him again.” Her voice hardened. “I spent the rest of junior year and all of senior year being slut-shamed by them. They made my life hell. What did I do wrong except love Patrick?”

Mrs. Anderson reached out a hand, her face pained. “I know what they put you through, dear. They were the most unruly students I’ve ever had. There were days I wished…” She trailed off, casting a meaningful look at Margaret before reaching into her desk drawer and pulling out a few newspaper clippings.

"Three 17-Year-Old Students at Myers High School Bludgeoned to Death. Unknown Assailant. Parents Plead for Answers."

“These kids had plenty of enemies,” Mrs. Anderson whispered, waving the printouts. “Taking care of them later threw off any suspicion. Who would ever suspect an honors student and her teacher? But now… they’re haunting me. I don’t know what to do.”

Margaret slowly brought her arms from behind her back, revealing a tire iron—the very weapon used to end Patrick, Andrea, and Sean’s lives.

“Just don’t say a word to the police,” Margaret said coldly. “I wouldn’t want you sharing the same fate as them.”

Mrs. Anderson’s eyes flickered with unease but softened as she looked at her niece. She understood the threat but also the unbreakable bond they shared. Her voice barely a whisper, she replied, “You’re my niece. You know I’ve always got your back.”

--- Fictional Story Written By Zainab Ali ---

Do Not Face The Wall..

 Riley was an introverted 12-year-old girl with one close best friend, Mackenzie. The two shared a lot in common, including their selective interests and tendency to keep to themselves. One of their favorite activities was watching Infinite Days, a drama featuring the young and charismatic Shane Carrington. Shane played a charming newscaster on the show, his words flowing like a river, and his turquoise eyes seemed to dance with every glance. He was Riley’s first major crush, a man she dreamed of waiting for until she turned 18. She had already planned it out: she would find out where Shane lived and meet him in person.

Every night before bed, Riley scrolled through videos of Shane on her phone, his presence making her feel safe. He didn’t know she existed, but that didn’t matter—one day, she was sure he would. That thought comforted her as she drifted off to sleep.

On Monday morning, Riley’s dad, Thomas, was watching the news as usual. The entertainment segment came on, and Riley was instantly drawn to the screen.

"In Entertainment today: Infinite Days star Shane Carrington celebrates his 25th birthday—"

Before she could hear more, Thomas flipped the channel.

“Dad, what the…?”

“Entertainment news is nonsense,” Thomas muttered, landing on a breaking news report. Annoyed, Riley stormed outside.

That night, Riley struggled to fall asleep. She tried watching videos of Shane again to relax, but something felt off. Her body was hot, and she couldn’t stop sweating. Am I coming down with the flu? she wondered. Despite her exhaustion, sleep came in short, restless bursts.

The following evening, Riley crashed into bed at 9 PM, too tired to care about anything. She had plans with Mackenzie the next day, but tonight, all she wanted was to sleep. She lay down facing the wall, as she always did, and drifted off.

Then the dream started.

A projector-like image appeared on the wall, displaying Shane Carrington in his usual gray suit and black tie. "And in breaking news, a new gummy snack, FANtastic Flavorfuls, has officially launched! The ingredients are so naturally delicious..." Shane smiled, his eyes twinkling as usual. But something felt off. The dream left her with a strange feeling that she couldn’t quite shake when she woke up.

On Saturday, Riley and Mackenzie had plans to go to the movies. At 12:05 PM, Riley called Mackenzie, but there was no answer. She figured Mackenzie had overslept and shrugged it off. As the day went on, however, she tried calling a few more times—still no response.

That night, Riley went to bed around midnight after spending hours browsing Shane’s fan page. She was surprised not to see any birthday pictures, even though the entertainment news had mentioned it.

Facing the wall again, Riley drifted into another dream. The projector-like image reappeared, showing Shane Carrington in his newscaster attire, just like before. But this time, things took a disturbing turn. Shane’s face became more lined, his bright turquoise eyes darkened and turned black—empty, like something sinister had taken over. His smile, once warm, morphed into something horrifying as his white teeth decayed before her eyes, revealing razor-sharp fangs stained with blood.

Riley woke up screaming.

It was Sunday, 7:15 AM. As she gasped for breath, her phone vibrated on the dresser. The caller ID read "Mackenzie BFF." Finally. Riley answered.

“Hey, Ri, I’m sooo sorry about yesterday. I got caught up with stuff. Can you come over now?”

Riley thought it was odd that Mackenzie wanted her to come over so early—especially before breakfast. But she figured maybe something had come up, so she agreed to go.

“Hey, Dad, I’m going to Mackenzie’s,” Riley called out. Thomas barely looked up from the television.

"Breaking News," the anchor said. “Three adolescent girls have been reported missing following a Shane Carrington meet-and-greet in New York City."

Riley froze in horror as Mackenzie’s face flashed on the screen. Thomas remained glued to the TV, unaware of his daughter’s panic. Heart racing, Riley called Mackenzie again, but there was no answer. Without telling her father, she ran out of the house and headed to Mackenzie’s place.

The front door was unlocked. Riley stepped inside, calling out her friend’s name. As she entered the living room, her blood ran cold.

Mackenzie was lying in a pool of blood, lifeless.

Before she could process the horror, Shane Carrington appeared, wearing his signature newscaster suit. “Don’t you know by now, Riley?” he said, flashing a smile. “You know how much my fans mean to me.” He held up a packet of FANtastic Flavorfuls, pulling out a single gummy candy. Blood oozed from his mouth as he ate it.

“I think you know now, Riley...”

Riley woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. Was it a dream? A nightmare? It had to be... didn’t it?

Terrified, she stumbled into the living room where her father was still watching the news.

“Dad?” she whispered, tapping his shoulder.

His head fell back.

His throat was slit.

Riley ran out of the house screaming and screaming.

Fictional Story Written By Zainab Ali..