The school day began as it always had.  Uneventful.  

Until death arrived.

Few were prepared.  None understood.   Cries, screams, pleadings, rang out unheard.   Nobody came.  Carnage, blasphemous and absolute reigned down upon the unfortunate souls within.  The end came swiftly for none, for the motive was not death, it was much more than that.

In the end, only the children remained, each of them transformed in their own manner.  Blackened faces, putrid and swollen, signified unnatural death.  Some showed no outwardly sign they had turned, except for a maniacal smile that proclaimed ‘mortality doesn’t live here anymore’.  Still others signified their transference by feeding on the flesh of those not yet turned.  Blackened blood, thick with scent, spilled like Cabernet Sauvignon, marking them all, heel to chin.

As the bell tolled three, death moved on.  

The day ended for the Holy School of the Resurrection, eventful at last.