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It was dark. Yes, it was very, very, dark. In the bright light of the street lamp could be seen the dreariness of the high school, sparkling in the everlasting blackness.

The void around the school attracted many people, including the sexy, loveable Kate Thomas, and the gory but cunning kill rapist.

Kate had been there to catch up on her homework, but couldn’t see anything in the nothingness of the exactly nothing. Suddenly she let out a plea for "help" as she felt the physical closeness of someone near. But it was only Cheriderf Retsel, a shy boy in her History class. (Wouldn't you be if you had a name like Cheriderf Retsel?) She had seen him many times, all tired without expression in his face, and had fallen in love with him. And here they were in a dark building, alone, and in love.

The rest of this story should be history. He should hold her close, speak sweet nothings in her ear, and then. . . well. . .

But it didn't. Kate was found as a bloody clump in the Algebra teacher' trashcan, while her clothes were suspiciously found lying amongst yesterday's test papers.

And Cheriderf? Right now Cheriderf is sitting in his history class the exact same way that he always had. But at least he’s smiling . . .

 © 1983, 

T. G. Taft

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