History, it repeats itself. We all know this from everyday life and from history. But what of history class? Does anything repeat itself there? What of in the school? Does history repeat itself even inside a school with a bloody past?




Sworn High school was like any other high school. It had its form of cliques as well as any high school. But this school had a past, a bloody past. In the only history room in the school was where the bloodshed began. Years ago, when the school opened up in 1905 a mass murder was committed there. The children and teacher were found dead with their body parts strewn across the room. A message written in blood was on the chalkboard: “The silent one has spoken up.”




Destiny. She was the outcast. None liked here, none talked to her. She was repeatedly being put down, but she tried her best to ignore it all. She didn’t even want to be at school. She knew she wasn’t like any of the other girls. The girls, the preps avoided her like she was the plague. She didn’t care, she was used to it since she was in kindergarten. The girls teased her, hurting her. But she never let them see her cry. The guys, the jocks avoided her as well. She hated it all, wanting out of the school. But still she went day after day to just make her father proud…




It was too much. A week after prom was hectic for poor Destiny. The girls locked her inside the bathroom, throwing bucket after bucket of what Destiny hoped was water. She was drenched, a stench coming from her as she walked the halls. This made her late for her 3rd block class. She always sat in the back of the row, ignoring everybody. No one knew she was there, they didn’t miss her. She tried to get ready for the class, ignoring her own stench. A few of the girls walked in, holding their noses, laughing. This was one class she had with those girls, but next block was worse. It was the class she had with all of the preps and jocks. One of the girls stood up in the class saying loudly, “Ew, what is that stench?” The girls turned to Destiny, pointing her out. She hated attention, hating that they were putting her on the spot. The teacher ordered Destiny out of the room and to the nurse. She didn’t argue, accepting the excuse to leave the classroom. She didn’t go to the nurse, knowing there was nothing the nurse could do to remove the stench. She sat in the library, reading her novels. The bell rang for last block and Destiny sighed, gathering her things. She slowly walked to last block, being shoved by the jocks. She hated it, keeping her silence.




A jock shoved her to the floor, making her drop her things with her knees bashing to the floor. Her binders and notebooks slid across the floor. People ran to their blocks, purposely stepping on them. The jock that shoved her, grinning. He knew she wouldn’t do anything to her, knowing she was just the outcast. Douche, thought Destiny as she slowly gathered her items. Her history teacher Mr. Postlewaith handed her, her last notebook when she got to her door. She knew one of the preps took it and was shocked to find it had her secrets in it. She made her way to her seat, feeling the preps and jocks eyes on her. She sat in the very back, her eyes on the desk. The tardy bell rang and class began.




Destiny felt Mr. Postlewaith place a strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. She knew he knew her pain from those douches in his class. He began class and she took careful notes, already knowing the subject. She just used it as an excuse to not look at the jocks. But she couldn’t help it, she had to. She, Destiny had enough! She wasn’t going to sit there in silence anymore, taking the abuse! She met the jock’s eyes, smiling mischievously. The fact that I am smiling should scare you, she thought. There were 32 students in all in her history class, most of them were the jocks. She let them meet her gaze, let them see her smile. They would have never known what was to come…




The final bell, releasing students as rang and yet students of Mr. Postlewaith class never left. Two hours later Destiny walked out of the classroom, her body completely clean. The other students never did. Inside the room was clean, neater then before. Yet there was evidence the students never left. Mr. Postlewaith was gone as well and yet he was home. There was no evidence he ever left. The students were gone, no trace left behind. A murder, everyone says was committed there. Destiny was the suspect and yet she was innocent despite the fact she was the first and only person to leave the room. A message was written on the chalkboard, the only clue to those who cared to read it: “The silent one has spoken up.”