Lead in the Classroom

Lead in the Classroom

A Story by Romeo

School Shooting


BANG! Gunshots echoed through the corridors of my school. I heard individual bullet shells fall and bounce on the tiled floors as students and teachers screamed and squealed in fright for their lives.


My teacher Mrs Mango rushed to lock the door of the classroom. Fear had set into the classroom as I heard loud sobbing and crying from my peers. Mrs Mango commanded the class to take a safer position underneath our tables as she closed the shutters and blinds to the corridor, sending the room into complete darkness.


Time passed on like eternity. As every minute passed, the gunshots were becoming more frequent and louder. The gunman was working his way up through the corridors, releasing a magazine of bullets into each class he passed. He started from the pre-school students and made his way up through the year levels.


“Everything will be alright. I promise. Just keep calm” Mrs Mango exclaimed to the class.

While Mrs Mango strived to convince us that we were going to make it through this, I sensed the uncertainty and distress in the trembling of her voice.


The sound of gunshots ceased for a few moments. The room was quiet. All I could hear was the heavy breathing of my classmates. As I sat there, in that short moment of tranquillity, I heard the screeching of our rusty doorknob. The gunman was attempting to force entry upon our room. Mrs Mango signalled to us to be quiet and motionless by the tapping of her finger against her quivering red lips.


Moments passed and the intruder seemed to have resigned. For a split second, I thought my life was going to be spared, but within a few seconds, bullets scattered across the wall of our classroom. The gunman then smashed the window of our door using the handle of his semi-automatic rifle. As he unlocked the door through the gaps between the fragments of glass, I saw Mrs Mango making movement. Mrs Mango sacrificed herself and scampered toward the gunman in an attempt to stop his terrorism. He showed no mercy and gunned down our beloved teacher within a few seconds. Blood sprayed and showered the room like that of crushed pomegranate fruit.


The classroom plummeted into chaos as students ran frantically around the classroom, searching desperately for an escape from this nightmare. The armed terrorist begun to release bullet after bullet into the dearest friends around me. I watched body after body collapse to the ground in a lifeless motion. I couldn’t cope with the insanity for any longer and had to make a getaway before it was too late.


In the heart of the moment, the terrorist’s gun overheated and became jammed. This was the perfect opportunity to flee. I briskly climbed out from underneath my table. I charged towards him with speed and power, shoving him out the way and propelling him into the door. As I passed him I hear yelps of pain as he fell into the thousands of sharp fragments of glass scattered on the floor. I turned right out of the classroom door and sprinted towards the end of the corridor. I ran as fast as I could and didn’t take notice of anything around me.


As I approached the end of the passage, I turned around to check whether my worst enemy was in pursuit. To my surprise, I had seen a number of my classmates following me in this defiance. I made a quick dash around the corner and signalled to my fellow escapees to file into the storage room. I slammed the door behind me and ensured I fastened it with the metal latch. I shut off all the lights to turn the room into darkness. Only petite lines of light peeked in through the cracks of the door. We huddled together in the corner, and prayed we were safe from this barbarian.  


“Will we be safe here?” I heard one classmate ask.

I whispered in reply, “I don’t know. I just don’t…” before being abruptly interrupted by a loud scraping screech. It sounded like the noise of a gun being dragged along the walls. My heart was in my mouth and I could feel the clench of the other students grip tighter.


The footsteps approached, becoming louder and louder until it came to a pause. The figure stopped at the front of the door and his shadow obstructed any light from passing through. I could see the sole of his rubber boots through the small gap underneath the door. I began to brace myself. I was ready to die. As I sat there, huddled in the corner with my classmates, hands joined, I reminisced through the happiest of my memories.


The metal hatch rattled in a patterned sequence as the man repeatedly turned the door handle. He persisted and the rattling evolved into a powerful thumping. In a clean motion, the man stepped back from the entrance and charged towards it like a raging bull. The door propelled open like a slingshot and the silhouette of the man and his gun was visible. We squeezed together, grabbed each other tightly and prepared for a spray of ammunition. 


“We have some more survivors!” I heard bellowed.

I took my head out from between my legs and looked up. It wasn’t the gunman but instead was a police officer. It was our saviour, our rescuer, and our escape from this ordeal. I got up from the cold dusty concreted floor of the storage room and fastened myself into the arms of the officer.

“You’re safe now”, the officer whispered into my ear.


In that single moment, I forgot about the hundreds of students that were heartlessly murdered. I forgot that my teacher, Mrs Mango, was gunned down right in front of my eyes. I forgot about everything around me. I was so unaware that the single hour I had just endured was going to haunt and torment my thoughts everyday for the remainder of my life.


© 2013 Romeo

Author's Note

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wow this is a very innovative piece. it contains a lot of emotive language and visual images are presented throughout. I really enjoyed this short story and i hope there is more to come, maybe the next story could be a little bit happier.

Posted 7 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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1 Review
Added on June 3, 2013
Last Updated on July 10, 2013
Tags: school, shooting, crime, shortstory, story, murder, narrative, writing, review, intense, bullets, guns, warfare, war, conflict
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South Australia, Australia

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