The Outkast

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Exactly one week prior to the incident that brought abysmal tragedy upon Ogre’s Pond, Trevor Carter’s body lay on the floor near the doorway to the toilet, smiling up at the men as they ran into his office. A tiny ring of blood sat on the front of his neck.

“Shit. He’s dead,” Donnie Murphy said.

“No, not yet. Maybe later.” Breathing hard, Brad Conner stood with his hands propped against the edge of the principal’s mahogany desk, slightly shaking. It appeared the morning sprint from the staff room to the principal’s office-coupled with the bad news lying on the floor-had got him winded. His tiny frame seemed to have started diminishing even further.

“How did you figure that out?” Donnie asked, bunching up his eyebrows and scowling at Brad, as if the short and hearing-impaired man had just uttered the most disgusting statement of all time. “Are you a doctor, or what?”

“Do I need to be one to use my eyes and common sense, Donnie? Or can’t you see he’s not drenched yet?”

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