Happiest Days Of Your Life

It was something instinctive that Timmy felt; when the doors of school shut behind him he would be totally forgotten by his parents; he would really be alone.

This wasn't the same school he was used to, not the safe haven he had known for the last eight years, the sanctuary of warm teachers, chalk dust and comforting school dinners.

This was the big school where you learnt to become a man and here, for the first time, Timmy felt completely alone. All of the friends he had made in St. Wilfs were no more, they didn't want anything to do with him; they seemed completely unreachable. They had all found cliques and new friends but Timmy, who had seen no one over the summer holidays, felt extremely vulnerable and close to tears.

The building was so much bigger than he had ever imagined: cold stone walls and echoing corridors ready to swallow the unwary child; and as they were shown into the great hall he found it hard not to think of the childhood sacrifices he had read about in his beloved horror comics. Would they select the weakest specimens so that the strongest could feast upon them?

A prefect suddenly flanked him, almost bending double to address him.

“Hello! Timmy, isn't it?” The prefect had seen the brightly embossed badge that was stuck to his jumper. “Don't worry, chap -it's always daunting on the first day, but we'll see you right. I'll help you settle in...”

The first act of kindness, disarming in its simplicity and; the world didn't seem as scary anymore and it allowed Timmy to look at how the other people were coping. Surprisingly he wasn't alone in his numbing fears; a couple of the smaller children had actually succumbed to tears and were being led away by other prefects.

Timmy felt lucky, his size meant that he could stand up for himself; something he had had to do a lot in St Wilfs; so why should here be any different? Something his father had told him stuck in his mind: “Buck it up, don't chuck it up and if in doubt grow up.”

The first assembly wasn't the ritual disembowelling he had been led to believe. All the teachers seemed non-threatening, endearing even... and Timmy found himself looking forward to starting his new subjects.

“Ward Hill,” The Headmaster dwarfed even the tallest teacher. Despite being an impressive figure of a woman she insisted on being addressed as Headmaster. It suited her. “Ward Hill stands as one of the best secondary comprehensive schools in the country. Our methods are... unorthodox, by some, but the results have always shone out for themselves. Learn the rules we are here to teach. Your parents have brought you here for one reason only, to become adults. Now is the time to put behind the childish life and grow up. Your parents will not want to know about your life at Ward Hill -the majority of them have lived it for themselves; they will not want to be reminded, I'm sure. What happens here stays here.”

Timmy's parents hadn't gone to Ward Hill, they were not that fortunate. It seemed to be a miracle that Timmy had made it so far; so much so that his parents had already told him that regardless of what happened to him there he had to stay. There would be no second chances.

As it was, the first day was exciting and tiring for there was so much going on. Ward Hill had created a whole new approach to teaching -total immersion. Classes were made up of all ages and each age was responsible for the teaching of the younger. Boys and girls shared the same classroom which made things embarrassing during the sex education classes.

As the weeks progressed Timmy struggled in many ways. He had always found both English and Maths easy at St Wilfs, but upon moving to Ward Hill it was as if someone had changed the rules overnight. He was constantly at the bottom of his class and picked on mercilessly by the older kids.

This too become something that he just got used to, just part of the ritual. Bizarrely enough, even the bullies saw it that way. There seemed to be no malice or delight in the activity, just a passive acceptance from both sides. Many of them bore the scars of bullying themselves so this may have been a form of cathartic release for them.

Every night Timmy was faced with the same cold stares from his parents, they never seemed to care enough to asked how his day went or whether he had learnt anything. Nor could he have explained even if they were interested; the Headmasters speech held him fast.

He felt an obligation to his parents, a word that no child should even recognise let alone be driven by. They had made his position perfectly clear so his nights and weekends passed by in cold silence.

It wasn't long before he was given to the school as a live-in pupil -an honour that was rarely given to less privileged families. On that day there was an air of guilt and finality -his mother barely able to look him in the eye as she packed his belongings. But it was his father who troubled Timmy the most; his father, who had never shown the slightest emotion but vague disappointment, wept uncontrollably as Timmy left on that bleak Sunday morning.

It was night time that Timmy felt the loss of his parents the most... but it wasn't long before he realised that it was the idea of them he had been clinging to; an idea that was easy enough to let go of.

He slept in a large, low ceilinged room in the basement of the school. When he had first become a pupil -four months ago he had been told that the school was haunted at night by Troglodytes. He now knew that to be true for he was one of them. In fact, he was proud to be a Trog and had even created an informal club that celebrated that, and as the tallest of the children that lived at the school he was elected leader of the Trogs; he was Head Trog!

For the first time he felt as if he had a purpose and for the next few weeks there was something else: -a feeling that had been denied him: contentment.. happiness even!

Lessons were improving and even the bullying had subsided. The teachers were starting to see, not only him, but the other Trogs in a new light, as if they were being sized up for something. The Trogs, for their part, had become a team under Tim's auspices.

Tim -his new name. It had been the Headmaster who had re-christened him one day after assembly. She had publicly thanked him for all the work he had done for the other Trogs and called him Tim. The name immediately stuck and with it came extra bonuses.

He was often first in the queue for meal times and given extra portions to boot; he was even allowed to skip the PE that he so loathed. Some of the other Trogs were given the same benefits as well. Life was good. In fact, for a while, things became heavenly.

Then came the first wounding.

Williamson had fallen foul during a particularly wet bog-trot. This was a special form of torment that Tim no longer had to take part in: running round the local woods that sat behind the school. It was said that witches lived there, waiting for the unwary school children who lost their way. For Williamson all it had meant was a badly sprained ankle and a nasty cut on his leg.

Upon seeing Williamson carted back into the school on a makeshift stretcher Tim again thanked his lucky stars that he no longer had to do bog-trot. He also vowed that he'd make Williamson's life as easy as possible; he arranged a whip-round with the other Trogs and managed to rustle up sweets and fruit and comics. When Williamson returned from the nurses station he was as white as the bandage that covered his leg, but his eyes lit up on seeing the stash that sat on his bed waiting for him.

Days passed and Williamson showed no signs of recovery. His bandage was soon replaced by a cast, which itself, was renewed every couple of days. Nobody thought anything of it at first. Then came another accident.

Sophie was in the home economics class room and because it was a large class with no one paying any attention no one noticed her chopping up the vegetables with one of the elder girls. The knife must have slipped.

The knives were always kept razor sharp and Sophie can't have realised what was happening  It was her partner that asked whether they were supposed to be cutting up beetroot, but by then it was too late. Mrs Forquot, the teacher of the lesson, took control immediately and found the tips of the fingers and placed them in a jar for safe keeping.

Other children found cuts and grazes appearing on their bodies with no real understanding how they got there, and Williamson was getting worse.

It was when Rob had his accident in Craftworking that Tim became really suspicious. They were using saws for the first time and none of them had been given any training or safety equipment -they were told to just get on with it.

“Best way to learn.” The jovial Mr Tomlinson had spouted. “Drop you in at the deep end, only two outcomes really!”

Of course, it was a wonder that it took that long for an accident to happen; Rob had lost control of the saw and chewed into his own leg. Tim, who knew nothing about DIY or health and safety, found it impossible that such a thing had been allowed to happen. No one had been watching except for one of the elder lads who looked sheepish.

When Mr Tomlinson rushed over to see the state of the injury he seemed almost disappointed that it was just a flesh wound that only needed a couple of stitches.

Tim wasn't the only one who thought that something was amiss. One of the slightly older girl Trogs, Sandy, and Dave Massy felt the same thing. None of them knew what was going on but it had an air of macabre familiarity about it. The one thing that they did know was that they were being withered down piece by piece. In the three weeks since Williamson's accident Tim had decided enough was enough. Williamson should have recovered by now, but if anything he was much, much worse. He was constantly perspiring, lying in the same supine way, almost delirious with pain; and the cast seemed to take up most of his leg now.

That night Tim, Sandy and Dave took it upon themselves to uncover the truth.

Williamson's cast was the most obvious starting point -none of them possessed any medical knowledge but even they knew that his ankle should have healed by now. Williamson himself was completely out of it, doped up to the heavens, so it was easy to investigate without waking him.

Sandy kept an eye out for any teachers or prefects, more down to her squeamishness than her keen eyesight. It seemed bizarre to put on such a cast for just a graze and a twisted ankle. Tim rapped his knuckles on the cast and was surprised to hear a hollowness to the rapport. Placing a hand firmly on the plaster mould he found it very odd that it gave very easily -it was paper thin.

He exchanged glances with Dave who got a torch out to shine on the leg itself. There was no choice -they needed to know what was beneath the cast so they were prepared to break it off. They didn't need to.

It was only secured to the top part of his leg by strips of surgical tape which were easy enough to remove. It felt like taking the top off of a bottle of sauce -one final tug and they were left staring in disbelief at a cauterised stump where the knee should have been. They both stared at each other, tears already forming in their eyes as they tried to process this abomination, but it was Sally's scream that brought the reality home to them.

Tim couldn't move. This wasn't happening. Dave was adamant that they needed to escape before the teachers found them and made them pay. He ran when he realised that Tim could no longer follow him -his legs refused to work anymore, so adamant were they that his was just another nightmare. Sally was just screaming and screaming. Soon she was led away by two of the female prefects and Tim? Tim was taken to the Headmaster.

“In life, we must all learn our place, Tim.” The Headmaster sat at her desk, peering down at him through horn-rimmed spectacles, her hands forming a steeple. “You've heard the term 'law of the jungle' and have no doubt been aware of natural selection, hmm?” The office was toasty warm; strangely enough, there was a large open fire on the far side of the office and a large, antique wooden table that had seen many meals. Score marks and great gouges had been taken out of it and there were many stains that took no imagination to fill in the gaps as to what they were, despite how outlandish it seemed.

“This is a special school and great things will be expected by all those who eventually leave. They will be among the very top, the elite. It's a privileged position with certain demands placed on them, on you.”

With that, she stood up out of the chair, slowly, like a lioness stretching, eyeing up her prey. She must have been woken by Sally's screaming and the commotion. Despite wearing a full length dressing gown and carpet slippers, she still exuded power and menace. She still towered over Tim, who severely doubted his life expectancy.

“We are not all created equal.” She continued, taking him by the hand. He got up, in a daze and was led towards the fire. “The strong survive and the weak are but food.” She pushed him down gently into the seat and sat down next to him, facing the crackling, spitting flames.

“I have been watching you, Timmy.” She cooed, placing her clammy hand over his. “And I think that you have potential. You have shown yourself to be one of the leaders.” Taking it in her hand, she moved his hand to her knee, moving the dressing gown aside with the other; she was completely naked underneath.

Tim stared in disbelief, tried to pull his hand away, but she held it tight and smiled, moving it further up her leg. “But you must be shown, you must be indoctrinated, like the rest.”

He tried to pull with all his might but all this did was make her predatory smile wider. She grabbed hold of him with her other hand and pulled him towards her, smothering him into her breasts.

All his childish world consisted of now was her, her power, the dank decrepit smell of her flesh, the decaying cloy of her suffocating breasts. But she wasn't breathing... It took him a couple of minutes to realise that.... she wasn't breathing at all.

All the while his other hand was forcibly tracking up her leg, inch by harrowing inch until he could feel the hairy mouth of her sewer. The slime crusted jewel of her empire, its jaws parting, allowing him to pass within.

He wanted it over, tried to scream but she held him tighter into her.

“Shhhh.” She hushed into his ear, almost hypnotically. “You will soon be one of us, you will soon be grown up and be one of us.  Just let go, let it go, let go of your child-life  and give it to me.”

His fingers were inside of her, the revulsion shook through him, bile soaking through every pore. The pain was sharp, a crushing tearing pain that was as indescribable as it was unexpected. He drew his hand out disbelievingly looking to where his fingers had once been -now just bloody, spouting stumps.

“Timmy, let me look at them.” She placated, snatching at them, shoving his hand into her mouth. She actually licked them and sucked at his fingers, lapping at every spurt.

Tim screamed, pushing himself back out of her grasp, the pain now the only thing keeping him from going mad, losing all sense of sanity, nearly falling into the fire. The Headmaster grabbed at him and missed, driven by bloodlust, no longer a woman now something formless and bestial; its true self transubstantiating. He barely ducked out of the way. The second time he wasn't so lucky -his head felt light and brittle, the flame shadows flickering around him, making him feel so dizzy. He couldn't duck quickly enough and her claws dug into his shoulders. He screamed again and just collapsed, putting the creature off balance -it had expected him to struggle and had over-compensated. Tim saw his chance and grabbed the creature, pulled it over the top of him with a makeshift judo roll into the fire, before rolling away from the blaze. The creature was rapidly consumed by the flames; screamed in agony and all Tim could do was watch.

He wanted to just die, he knew now that no one would ever believe him. Blood loss was making him ill and had it not been for Sally and Dave he would have given up and died, but he had a responsibility to them both. He had to make sure that they were both ok.

The rest of the school was strangely quiet -all of the other Trogs were fast asleep still. They had probably been told that it was just someone else's night terrors. Tim hoped that Dave had made it out ok, but he realised the truth in the Nurses room.

He was there alright, stripped of all his clothes, his skin in tatters, the flesh exposed underneath, going ripe whilst the blood drained into buckets. Tim had no tears left, no more hope -just find Sally and run.

He almost didn't feel the knife pierce his kidney; it was such an expertly placed blow. He turned around to Sally's peaceful features.

“I thought you'd be smarter than this, Timmy. They had such high hopes for you.”

“..what.... why?” were all that Tim could manage as he slumped into a heap on the floor.

“I was given the same offer that you were, but I accepted, i guess I know my place in the world and know where I want to be. It's a shame, but I suppose that everyone has their place on the food chain, don't they?”

She turned and walked to the door, turning on the lights to the nurses station and whistled shrilly. To Tim's surprise none of the teachers arrived, or the prefects. For a couple of minutes nobody showed, then there came a noise. A kind of shuffling, grunts and labored breathing, of bodies jockeying for position.

Eyes dilated through fear, wide with disbelief he could only stare as the Trogs jostled in, lips licking, salivating at the meal in front of them. Why had he never made the connection before? If he was being groomed then it stood to reason that they had been as well.

He was bleeding profusely now and there was nothing he could do to fend them off. It was obvious where they would start, what child doesn't love finger food?

But as the first of the Trogs started gnawing at his exposed digits Tim felt his first pang of pride. After all, wasn't he still giving his all for the benefit of the group? Wasn't that what a leader had to do?