11:45 AM: You arrive at the classroom. It is the first day of this class. You find a seat, avoiding a chair that holds a small puddle of water.
11:50 AM: You notice that the string attached to projector screen has been tied like a noose. You take a picture and send it to many of your friends, with a few joking remarks about how this class is going to make you want to hang yourself. Everyone in the room stares at you as you take the picture. Obviously nobody else sees the remarkable similarity between the knot and a noose.
11:52 AM: You notice that by sitting between the wet chair and the wall, you have effectively isolated yourself.
11:53 AM: The instructor finally arrives. She is perky and innocent looking in a light blue cardigan.
11:55 AM: The instructor begins class early. She locks the door as she begins talking. You vaguely think that this is odd, but you have a hard time focusing on one thing long enough for it to cause true alarm.
11:58 AM: Your eyes begin to droop. The room seems to be getting... wavy?
12:06 PM: You absent-mindedly scratch at the scab on your arm. The scab comes off and blood begins to ooze out of the wound, contrasting bright red against your skin.
12:08 PM: The blood makes you uncomfortable. Everyone can see it. You wipe at it with your hand, doing nothing but smearing it and leaving a coppery smudge across your finger.
12:12 PM: The blood is leaving the wound in fat drops. Your hands are covered in blood, yet you can't stop wiping at it.
12:20 PM: You are holding your hand up to the wound, trying to stop the flow. A tiny torn off scab should not be bleeding this heavily! You look up, trying to find a paper towel, a kleenex, anything to clean the blood off of yourself, when you see them. At the window, there is a crowd of masked faces peering in. All of them are turned toward you. Conversely, the faces of your classmates are all turned toward the instructor, paying you no mind.
12:23 PM: You notice that all your classmates are using red pen to take their notes. No, not red pen, you realize slowly, it's blood. The smell of it permeates the room, metallic sweet.
12:28 PM: You are trying not to throw up. You have already tried to get up, but you can't move from your seat. You struggle desperately again to lift yourself from the chair. The instructor has finally noticed your plight. She sharply calls your name. You look up at her. "Do I need to keep you after class?" You quickly, fearfully shake your head. She smiles predatorily. "Good." As she smiles, you notice that her teeth are sharp. Her grin is much too large. It literally stretches from ear to ear, making her look like Venom, or a frightening real life Cheshire Cat. This is the last straw. You need to get out. You are totally taken over by fear. You find that you can stand up, and you do, knocking over your chair. Lightning fast, every face in the room turns toward you. All the students are perfectly normal except for the blood-ink pens they hold. You run from the room.
12:39 PM: You don't stop running until you reach your apartment. You didn't see anything amiss on your run home, but you are still so afraid that you slam the door shut behind you and use every lock the door has (all four of them, including the chain). You take a deep breath, your forehead pressed against the heavy wooden door. Finally, after a few breaths, you turn around.
There are dozens of masked faces pressed against your window. You scream.
With a creak, the window begins to open.
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