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“Sir, I- I’m really sorry sir, I really shouldn’t have been talking…” squealed the tiny Year 7. Mr Attwood growled.
“Sorry won’t do! Meet me in my room at lunch!” The child gulped.
12:00 pm
The Year 7 opens the door, and jumps. The room is a mess, tables thrown apart, with large chunks missing. The carpet is torn up, and in the corner, Mr Attwood chews away at the plaster walls.
“YOU’RE LATE!” he exclaims, with a mouthful of wall. The Year 7 swallows his fear and tries to run, but Attwood stomps his foot and the ceiling crashes down, blocking the door. The Year 7 cowers in the corner, trembling. THUD! THUD! THUD! He approaches, slowly. The lights flicker on and off, crashing onto the floor. “You shouldn’t leave me hungry for too long, or things like this happen!”
He smiles grimly. His jaw dislocates like a snake, hitting the floor, and he engulfs the Year 7. The last thing he remembers is the endless abyss, and falling, falling, falling…
3:55 pm
“You can’t contain me forever, Tom Carter.” He smiles. “This is how many now… 8 disappearances? The media will notice eventually. And then I will be free.” Mr Carter quivers in his chair.
“Maybe so… but we must contain you while we can. For the sake of humanity.” He mutters.
“What was that? Oh well, I’m bored of this mortal shell anyways.” Attwood muses.
“No… William you can’t… NO!”
It was too late. Mr Attwood expands exponentially, faster and faster, bigger and bigger. Mr Carter tries to run but is crushed. He is slowly absorbed into the glutenous mass.
“What a fool” he laughs. “I guess all mortals are the same. Now, I fancy its time for a bigger snack…”
TO BE CONTINUED