Mrs. Shannon is a teacher who rules her class with fear. Unfortunately when dark secrets of her past begin to resurface, she begins to loose control over her students. When the tables are turned what will the desperate teacher do to regain control? What secrets are held within her mind? Those Little Devils Wham, went a ruler as it slammed onto one of the student's desks. “Mr. Harper!” A slightly aged vixetta barked at one of her students, “Do I need to assign one more essay to the entire class due tomorrow?” Her nostrils flared as she leaned over the desk in an intimidating manner. The poor wolf slid back in his desk as if to try to merge with the wood of the seat. In his paw, clutched tightly, a crumpled piece of a paper. The cub tried to hide it under his desk, stuck it to a piece of gum on the underside of the faded desk top. But everyone knew it was fruitless. Mrs. Shannon was ruthless, she knew here room better then any other staff within the small town middle school and never let any of her students misbehave. Mrs. Shannon had her tricks to monitor the class. She focused on the bubble glass that covered the clock watching Tracey and Trixie gossip about who is developing faster. She adjusted her reading glasses so that she could look behind her and see where the next spit ball or paper hornet was targeted. She had the class scared to make a move. “Now Harper, hand over the note.” Shannon's paw extended toward the cub. A bit of her gray arm slid from beneath the sleeve of her red, form fitting suit. She always wore red. Reluctantly, the cub sat back up and adjusted his posture into a pout. He slapped the wad of loose leaf into her paw. “Ah ah, watch the attitude or you will be kept after class.” The threat was enough to make the young cub's ears fold against his head in shame. Mrs. Shannon read over the note. A simple meet at X, style of note, common among the young students. “Now Harper, who were you going to pass this note too?” “Well um I was...passing it to...” A snicker came from beside the wolf cub. Mrs. Shannon clearly annoyed by the disruption, whipped her head toward the snickering coyote. Unlike the others in her class, the coyote did not fear her. In fact he almost seemed to mock her. This angered Shannon to no end. “Is something funny Loren? Do you find a disruption in class to be funny?” The cranky vixetta approached the coyote slowly. The coyote cub only started to laugh loudly this time. Some of the other students around him looked worried for his well being. Shannon's anger growing steadily as her snout began to wrinkle in a snarl. “You are being selfish, keeping the other's from learning. Did you coerce poor Harper over here to pass you a note? You are a selfish--” “The only thing that is keeping us from learning anything in your class is your nit picking, ya bitch.” The coyote chuckled and spoke casually as an almost audible gasp rippled through the classroom. Mrs. Shannon blushed at the cursing coyote, “That kind of language is inexcusable. You will stay after class so I can write you up for swearing in my class.” The coyote only grinned, not a smug grin, but an almost evil and taunting grin. A grin only a true mischief maker could make. He sat in an exaggerated polite way. Paws folded on the desk, chin up and forward, a slight sparkle in his green eyes. It disgusted Mrs. Shannon “Well Mrs. Shannon you'd better get to writing. By the time you reach the desk the bell will ring, thanks for providing me entertainment for the last thirty minutes.” The coyote shot back to the cranky teacher. The coyote cub was right, which only ticked Shannon off more. Once she sat down in her slightly stiff rolling chair the bell rang and signified the school days end. Mrs. Shannon looked up to Loren the coyote, whose muzzle still had that same devilish grin on his muzzle. With a slight growl of annoyance, “Everyone is excused, except for Mr. Loren.” There was a flurry of movement as the students, row by row, stood up and filed out the door in an organized manner. Mrs. Shannon's hard glare, watched to make sure her students moved as she had taught them. The sound of the wooden door acted like a director tamping his stick to get the orchestra quiet and ready. The room was silent, save for the muffled giggles and jabbering of the kids outside. Mr. Shannon's glare was now focused on the grinning coyote. “You disgust me,” she said matter of factually before she pulled open a drawer to retrieve the pink referral form. “Calling me a bitch,” she said with disgust, “all I do is treat all you little rats with respect.” That got a snicker out of the coyote, who remained seated. Mrs. Shannon rolled her eyes and began to scribble the details of the incident within the small boxes. Sure some teachers write outside the box, but not Mrs. Shannon. She wrote microscopically, anyone who'd try to read what was scribed onto the piece of paper would need a magnifying glass to read. Mrs. Shannon used one of her tricks to monitor the coyote. She watched Loren in the reflection of a glass paper weight on her desk. The coyote's grin and face was clear, illuminated by the sun that shined on him. This struck Mrs. Shannon as odd, since normally she would only be able to make out general forms within the distorted and slightly frosted glass. She looked down at the paper and look back at the paper weight and kept tabs on the naughty coyote. That same grin plastered on his face, his eyes seemed to lock on her own through the reflection. It sent shivers down her spine. She knew the coyote and his tricks, he was a smart cub. After a bit of a scowl she began to approach the finish of her angered writing. She gave a last look into the reflection and stared wide eyed in shock. The coyote's reflection was distorted or so Shannon thought. As she inspected the reflection closer, she found that the coyote had turned into something more monstrous almost demonic? His face maintained a canine shape, but was covered in scales where tan fur once was. His teeth sharp and a long serpentine tongue, slithered from between his rotten teeth. As she watched this strange metamorphosis, the coyote seemed to vanish; no, flicker like a candle flame from his desk almost to right against the glass paper weight as if he transported from his desk to right in front of her own. The sudden quickness in proximity startled Shannon. She jumped back in her seat and looked at the coyote, still seated in the second row. The grin still held on his face as her breath caught in a gasp. “What's the matter? Did you just realize how much of a bitch you are?” The coyote poked Shannon with his words. Shannon growled and stood up from her desk and quickly closed the gap between her and her pupil. She slapped the pink slip onto the coyote's desk. “Take your own referral to the front office, perhaps the principal will have a word with you.” She scoffed and started to walk back to her desk, “You're excused.” “There are more of us Mrs. Shannon.” The coyote said as he stood and collected the pink slip of paper. He began to walk toward the door and ignored the curious look Mrs. Shannon gave him as she plopped herself back behind her long desk. Mrs. Shannon covered up her emotions with a poker face that would put Doyle Brunson to shame. “I've heard enough of your nonsense. Now get out of my room, so I can air out your nastiness.” Shannon looked at the door. The coyote tapped the top of his forehead with a claw. As he stepped out of the room, Mrs. Shannon caught the tail of the coyote. Her eye brows crooked as she saw a draconic, scaled tail instead of the usual fluffy coyote tail. She almost jumped out of her chair to go check and verify what she had just observed. But she sat back down with a huff and rationalized it was just her imagination. Her dark, guilty secrets boiling back up to the surface... ...The incident with the coyote pestered Shannon all through the night. The strange image of the coyote burned into her subconscious and wandered in and out of her thoughts. She had dreams, where some of the features of the demon were projected on to the vague characters in her nightmares and dreamscapes. She did not get much sleep and was even crankier then ever. Shannon's school day started one hour before her students arrived for a long day of class. When she walked to the front office and picked up her mail and notices, she was shocked to see that the bright, pink referral she had written stuck out of her slot. She did not think much of it as she collected it and walked alone and through the hallways to her cold class room. She sat at her cold pristine desk and looked over her classroom. The desks neatly arranged in rows and columns, shelves covered by books and other learning resources that lined the walls. There were windows along one side of the wall and one on her door. Cheap roller blinds hanged above the large square windows that overlooked the courtyard and playground. The clock on the wall behind her desk tick toked away like a melody in the quiet room. She looked over the notices and teacher information papers the principal loved to write every day. The cafeteria staff was to prepare the questionable dish of tuna casserole. A bubbling, slimy, disgusting dish that surprised the bravest of kids when it didn’t taste like it looked, it was much much worse. But soon Shannon arrived back on the referral, which had a paper stapled to the front. The vixetta did not bother to look at it as she flipped to the pink referral. Her eyes looked over the paper and noticed the box titled, Reason for discipline, circled several times in red pen. Off to the side of the circle was drawn an angry face that used an equal sign and an open parentheses. Shannon looked at the body of the box and was mortified to see what was written within. Slander, insults and vulgar language was written in the box. It filled all seven lines of the box, sentences that cursed the school and the faculty. Calling Mr. Shelly, the principal, a slut and many other unmentionable and hateful, blasphemous things. What really sent Shannon into a panic was that it was all in her meticulously small hand writing. She quickly flipped to the front page again and found it was a letter from Mrs. Shelly. Shelly stated she wanted to speak with Mrs. Shannon for her actions, whether it was some sort of sick joke or an actual stab at their adult friendship. As it now stood, Mrs. Shannon's day looked dismal. The students trickled in and sat at their assigned desks, well most of them. Trixie and Tracey had to change places in an attempt to sit next to their crushes. The classroom gossip duo grumbled as Mrs. Shannon adjusted their seated arrangement. The classroom was alive with chatter as Mrs. Shannon prepared to start class. She allowed this and figured if her students got the morning stories out now, they would be less likely to disrupt her class. She sat at her desk and watched all her little monsters chatter. Her cold, stern eyes traveled from the front of the class to back. She studied her future athletes and scientists of the world closely, disgusted that they would bring happiness to their parents. Mrs. Shannon would never know that feeling, to be a parent with a successful son or daughter. She had a son but lost him during a divorce. It was not that the court took him away, but the husband. Although separated the wolf still came in contact with Shannon. Depressed, he could not take the control Shannon demanded in there relationship. In a fit of rage, he kidnapped their son and gave him an overdose of cough medicine. He drove to a nearby lake and tied their son to the passenger seat. He got out of the car, left it in neutral and let the vehicle roll into the cold water. The cab quickly filled with water and the sedated cub, hardly even five, drowned to death. Distraught the husband wrote a suicide note and hanged himself by the neck at a nearby tree. The note detailed the scene up to the point of his death. He described what he did to the cub, then how the car rolled into the water. When authorities found the hideous sight, they observed deep gashes around the husband's collar bone. His claws still had the remnants of dried blood and flesh under the nails. Flies would have been drawn to the wolf's body, if it wasn't for the frost. When they found the car and pulled it through the thin ice and out of the water, Shannon's son was still tied into the seat. His nails where torn out of their paws and embedded in the ropes that held him tight in his seat. Though sedated, he still had fight in him till the last water filled breath. Shannon's mind wandered over that dark winter's day, the anniversary of it was on it's way. In two days it would have been one year, one long torturous year. Her thoughts though were interrupted as the coyote's voice was heard loud and clear through the chatter of the classroom. “Come on Mrs. Shannon, stop your crying,” the coyote had a mocking tone in his voice, “You're late by a minute, stay after class and meet with the principal.” Mrs. Shannon looked up at the coyote, whose muzzle had that same evil, malicious grin on his muzzle. If daggers could shoot from Mrs. Shannon's eyes, the coyote would have been chopped and ready for the market. Another snicker came from beside the coyote, as the wolf named Caleb, had the same grin plastered on his muzzle. Both cubs straightened their posture and turned their body to face forward toward Mrs. Shannon. They folded their paws, almost in unison and laid them neatly on the desk top. Their spines, straight and snouts pointed forward, they looked at Mrs. Shannon and grinned while she composed herself... ...The first third of class went relatively well. The students did not seem to be misbehaving as much or more likely Mrs. Shannon was to distracted by the two cubs who followed her every movement. The coyote and wolf cub followed her around the room with their entire head. Their facial expressions never changed, ever eerie and twin like. Soon a buzzer sounded and signaled that recess had begun. Mrs. Shannon felt exhausted as she slumped into her chair. Her eyes looked up at her class and noticed they were still seated. “Mrs. Shannon, you didn't excuse us.” A timid voice from the back sounded off. Perhaps it was Timmy she did not care. “Oh right, you're dismissed,” her paw held up and flicked as if swatting at a fly. Her students shuffled out the door and into the halls before they charged outside. She stared out of the window and watched the courtyard fill with children that laughed, smiled and played. The sight would of warmed some souls, but only seemed to rot her own. She could see herself as she played with her son. The chains of the swing set cracking and protesting under the wait of the wolf cub as she pushed him. She visualized playing tag in the open field as Charles dragged the cooler under the shade of a tree and watched his wife and son play. The laughter of the children soon brought her back to happier times in her life. Her eyes closed as she was almost brought back in time to the field where her family had frequent picnics. She felt for the first time in a long while, happy. Soon a chill shot through her spine again. The cold feeling reminded her of ice cold water dripped onto bare flesh. Her eyes slowly opened as a tear rolled down her cheek. The coyote cub stood near a swing set, his gaze casted right at Shannon through the window. The wolf cub also was just stood and stared at her freakishly, mischievously, as if they knew her secret. She continued to look out of the window and soon several more students, from other classes and her own stopped dead in their tracks as if suddenly no longer interested in the game of tag. They all turned toward her classroom window, the one she stood at and stared at her. Some with grins, others with vicious snarls. Mrs. Shannon could not stand their constant stares that seemed to drill holes through her anymore. She stood and walked to the windows and pulled on the chords that lowered the blinds. The light shut out, denied entrance into the dismal classroom. Shut out like memories of her past. The rest of the day passed effortlessly. When it came time to dismiss the class, Mrs. Shannon again asked Loren to stay after class. Though a bit more reluctantly then the last. She had to find out if the coyote had something to do with the referral. Mrs. Shannon did not miss a beat as the bell rang and she excused her class. Something was strange about some of her students. Some seemed to turned their heads toward her and kept a silent glare, poised with her eyes. Some had snarls on their faces, other's had grins that would put a Cheshire to shame. However, they all seemed malicious, sadistic and mischievous. Unpleasant, little devils. Left alone with only Loren left in her class. She stood up and started to walk toward the coyote cub. The door as it shut caught Shannon's attention. It seemed louder then usual and as her eyes focused on the clear window in the center of the door. She was shocked to see several of her students faces as they filled the small door window. Their eyes, completely black, their fur much paler and rough, gritty and soiled in appearance, uncharacteristic of youth. It scared Mrs. Shannon greatly, so much so that she jumped when Loren smacked his paw against the top of his desk. Her attention was drawn back to Loren who had a wild grin on his face, “I told you there are more of us.” Mrs. Shannon's eyes trailed from Loren and back to the window, the strange devils had seemed to dematerialized from behind the door and were nowhere to be found, “What are you?” Shannon replied to the coyote sternly, the grumpy lady persona dropped completely knowing it was no longer effective with this student. The coyote only cackled a laugh, “You saw what we are. Have you forgotten what I look like already Mrs. Shannon? I figured my reflection would have been enough. Let me jog your memory...” The coyote's voice was gravely as he began to shift and change in front of Shannon The vixetta backed up as the coyote cub seemed to grow in his chair. His fur and skin seemed to rot and peel away from his muzzle, fell to the floor and vanished into dust. A sickly, squelching noise could be heard as new scales grew over the patches of exposed meat. The coyote turned demon let out a loud, airy and horrid screech that completely terrified Shannon. She stumbled back onto her desk, paled and sat in her chair. Eyes, unblinking, stared as the creature stood up from his desk. It moved toward Mrs. Shannon and stopped when his reptilian eyes observed the amount of terror in her own.It leaned forward, it's breath wreaked of rotted flesh. A loud, snarling, laugh, cackle came from the creature before it spoke, “Well Mrs. Shannon?” The vixetta could only mouth the words, so paralyzed with terror, “You're excused...” Mrs. Shannon fainted, head hitting the desk with a dull thud. Mrs. Shannon lazily awoken from a deep sleep. It had been several hours since school had let out, the sun had set and casted a blood red light across the sky. It lit the blinds with red squares, which glowed and illuminated the otherwise dark class room. She looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. Her heart rate was still sky high unsure of what she had witnessed was real or not. All she knew was that she missed her meeting with the principal and she hoped she would not be pissed about it. She knew it was not worth while to worry about it for now. She gathered her belongings and set out for home... ...It was dark and cold as the vixetta ran through the woods. She panted, her breath visible in the cold winter's air as she pushed through the brush. “Mom!” She could hear off in the distance. The smell of car exhaust fresh in the air as she became closer and closer to the lake. She punched through the thick undergrowth to find their old car as it began to roll down the embankment. The naked, brown furred husband stood near the edge as he watched the car roll into the water. Shannon could see the face of her son at the back window, lit by the moon. Fist pounded at the window as he yelled and pleaded for his mother to save him. The car sputtered as the air began to escape the slowly, sinking car. Shannon rushed to her husband and grabbed hold of his strong shoulders. Her claws dug into his skin as she snarled at him, “Don't just stand there, go in and,--” A strong slap to her muzzle sent her down the embankment and near the water's edge. The wolf only grinned as he looked down at her wife, covered in mud. Hair amuck as she shot daggers at him. She did not wait long before she waded and leaped into the frigid water. The moon's light rippled under the water's surface and illuminated the small car. She swam desperately until she was aligned with the front passenger door. She could see her son as he swam in the cabin. Bits of red trailed his paws as his claws had been torn from their tips. He pounded at the glass desperately as he tried to break his way out of the death trap. She tried desperately to get the door open, but nothing would budge. She felt helpless as she watched her son's face snarl with anger and fear. She watched as her son's chest convulsed and expelled the soiled breath from his lungs. His body flailed as he sucked in the first of the burning cold water into his lungs. He was being drowned in front of his mother's eyes. His body kicked and pulsed in the water. The body floated erratically through the water before it grew still. His eyes wide with a look of absolute fear, forever plastered on his dead face. His dead green eyes stared into Shannon's. She could not help but read those pleading fearful eyes as, “Why couldn't you help me mother?” She soon swam back up to the surface of the lake and caught her breath. She panted and sobbed at the same time. She wailed and howled over the loss of her child. Her frail arms pulled herself up the embankment, soaked in sorrow, she crawled up through the mud and muck. She clutched her sides as she vomited, overcome by so many emotions it made her dizzy. The glossy eyed gaze looked up and focused on her husband noose around his neck. She leapt up to stop him from taking his life, but was to late. The log rolled from underneath him. The short drop and sharp jerk of the stop dug his nails into his chest. The sharp claws skinned away his fur and flesh as he was left hanged by the neck, strangled and airless. “No no!” Shannon cried out as she wrapped her arms around her husbands waist and tried to pull his body up to relieve the powerful, relentless, crushing pressure on his neck. But she failed, her husband proved to be far to heavy for her to save in that way. The wolf sputtered and gasped for breath as he slowly lost consciousness. All the while, Shannon stood and screamed for help. She watched as her husbands tongue purple and engorged with blood, she witnessed the last shuttered twitch from his body as he died. Her sobs, loud and piercing as she cried and hugged her dead husband's body. As her cries died, they were replaced with apologies, “I drove you to this...I'm sorry...I drove you to this...” She repeated and sobbed incoherent words between. The wolf's paw moved after death and landed on her head, stroking her fur comforting. “It's to late for apologies, I'm already dead,” the wolf's voice was masculine but was covered by gurgling a wet, ghastly sound. Shannon's eyes looked up and jumped back when she saw the demonic face of the coyote, in place of her husband's. The coyote giggled and laughed at her still hanged from the noose. “Just remember Shannon, there are more of us!...” Shannon jerked herself awake, alone and in bed. A cold sweat layered her skin under the ruffled fur. The horrible nightmare seemed to become more frequent as the anniversary of the event neared. She looked at her red digital clock, digits glowed brightly, fiery and noted the time. The eve of the anniversary had arrived only one minute prior. She couldn't sleep, to spooked to close her eyes... ...The morning came too quick for Shannon. Sleep deprived, she had large heavy bags under her eyes. Her fur seemed to have lost the youthful sheen she once had. She arrived late and when she walked to her door and looked in. The class was busy as they chatted away, waiting for their teacher. But when she walked in, they all seemed to snap their heads toward her and spoke in unison, “Good morning Mrs. Shannon” Mrs. Shannon's eye twitched as she realized the monsters had spread to all her students. As she stared at the unblinking faces, something snapped, broke, in the back of her mind and made her leave the class. Her face was pale as she left. The classroom sat in complete silence, their heads swiveled, slowly, mechanically, as one. They almost seemed to follow her movements through the thick concrete walls and to the Principal's office. A few minutes passed and soon a substitute teacher walked through the doors to teach the class. The moment the sub stepped in, the class seemed to return to normal children. Bickering, gossiping, loud the new teacher interrupted them, “Good morning class, my name is Shelley.” “Are you that lady with all those beautiful roses in her yard?” Someone asked. Mrs. Shelley smiled warmly almost brightening the entire room, “I see I have a fan...” The day went by uneventfully and the substitute made sure to inform the class about a pop test tomorrow that would be given by Mrs. Shannon herself. The class was excused and all left to their parents. The substitute's cell phone rang and was answered. Mrs. Shannon was on the other line. “How were the kids?” She asked, a subtle waver in her tone. “Oh they were little angels! I've never been to such a well behaved class” Mrs. Shelley gushed on about all the little, angels, that made the day go by painlessly. “I see. Shelley,” Shannon paused, “did they stare at you strangely? Did they sit proper?” “No, each one was a delight! They all have their own little personalities. Trixe and Tracey the two in the back are a hoot to listen too. Little gossip girls they are,” Shelly paused. She could hear heavy breathing on the opposite end as well as a soft clicking noise, “Is something the matter?” “No nothing is the matter, thank you for coming in on such short notice. I really needed to get some extra sleep,” Shannon spoke as her paws where busy, a subtle, metallic click echoed in the ear piece rhythmically. “It isn't a problem dear, get some rest.” Shelley said with a look of concern on her face. She hung up her phone and decided then and there that she would pay the class a visit tomorrow. Something just did not feel right in her gut. Tomorrow came soon enough and Shannon returned to her normal self, at least by outward appearance. She dressed in a suit though instead of her usual red, she wore a black one. Her entire attire was nothing but black, grim, depressed and beautiful. Black slacks, shirt, shoes, socks and scarf. The sun still hadn't crest the horizon and casted a dim eerie glow across the sky as she solemnly stepped into her car. The entire drive to the small middle school was plagued with blips of her traumatic past memories. She drove passed a lake, not the lake, but a lake. The cold water rippled as a cool winter's breeze pushed the water to shore. Her eyes traveled along the rim not lifting a brow as she watched a car roll into the water and a wolf the hanged from a tree branch. The line that separated reality from horrid memory began to fade as she was constantly tortured with images.. She walked slowly, like attending a funeral march, to the front office and collected her daily fliers. Today's informative flier had rainbows and smilies on it. The principal obviously going wild with the clip art. She did not bother reading it. She had more important and pressing things to do. She set her purse on her desk and pulled out the cold, heavy and loaded gun. She put it in one of her suit pockets before moving to each window and pulled down the roller blinds. No one would see in and no one would see out. As she approached the last window to, she looked out at the small playground. Echos of her past rung in her ears, laughter. The dim light of dawn barely illuminated the courtyard. A dog barked along with the sound of a pleased master who praised the animal. She heard the man before she could see him. A hyena was out in the field. A rubber toy being tossed out to a dog who could be seen as it darted away to retrieve the toy. The dashing and strong hyena had on a black hoodie and a long grey scarf. He looked over toward the window Mrs. Shannon was at and smiled. She rolled down the blinds with a small sense of guilt. With her room sealed from the world she stood outside her classroom to greet and prepare her students for their final exams. As the students slowly began to arrive, left by their trusting families, she lined them up along the wall out in the hall. They all appeared to be their normal self, but Shannon knew they were only acting that way because they were in public. “Now then class, you will be taking this exam orally one by one. Once the exam is over you are to go to your assign seat and sit with your head down. Do not make a noise once your head is down or you will fail this class and repeat this grade. If you leave line, or talk out of line, you will fail. So be quiet please.” she paused and looked over the perfectly formed line of students, “Lets see who is first?” She walked to the front of the line and noticed it was the coyote. She grinned and he grinned back at her. “It appears Loren is first. Come along cub. You are dressed sharp today.” The young coyote cub was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks. “I can say the same about you Mrs. Shannon, but you look to be dressed for a funeral.” Shannon pushed the young coyote into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click as the door latched shut. She walked in toward her desk and asked the coyote to have a seat. “You wanna see me again? I've learned a new trick wanna see?” The coyote ignored his teacher as his shirt seemed to auto ignite and become consumed in bright fire. The coyote, now bare of clothing, fur began to decay and curl off his body, pus and maggots began to drip from scratches along his collar bone, claw marks. His eyes seemed to deflate and sink into their respective pits. His skin pulled tight against his skull giving his face a more aged and skeleton like look. Mrs. Shannon reached into her pocket and grabbed hold of the warmed pistol grip. She clicked off the safety, the coyote contorted and transformed into a miniature version of her husband. Decayed and insect infest, his bones cracked as he walked toward Shannon shakily. “Tell me what I should do....now, I am useless without you.” The rotting, falling apart, breath wreaking of rot wolf spoke airily. “No more, you monster!” Mrs. Shannon said as she took aim for the dead wolf's head. Her finger quivered and pounced off the sensitive trigger. The loud bang that filled the room, as well as the unique scent of the pyrotechnic residue from the brass shell, startled her. The loud bang sounded only like a soft pop of a balloon outside the chamber. The thick concrete walls muffled the sound perfectly. The coyote stumbled backward, eyes wide as he fell against the cold, painted white concrete, blood and meat splattered wall. The blood and brain matter clung to the wall as the coyote slumped to the floor in a limp and pathetic manner. Mrs. Shannon dragged the dead coyote's body to his desk and propped him up in his seat with his head down. A pool of blood puddled across the desk. She cleaned the mess on the wall with a towel and stepped out to retrieve the next monster. “Mr. Harper, you are next.” The wolf followed Mrs. Shannon into the death chamber of a classroom. His nose flared as the scent of blood hung thick in the air, “Hmm it seems you've finally taken matters into your own hand. It doesn't matter though. No gun can kill what's in here,” The wolf cub said as he taped the top of his skull. The wolf cub had a blank look in his eyes as his fur began to peel away from his skin like the coyote before him. Slowly the wolf's clean and styled fur decayed. His eyes slowly began to take on the form of her son's eyes. Water began to manifest from on top of the wolf's head and pool on the floor below. The wolf cub extended his paws toward Shannon. Shannon extended her own and took aim. His nails snapped and popped upward as if they were being torn out of the flesh by an invisible force. Each pop spattered Shannon's muzzle. The liquid joined her tears as she mouthed an 'I'm sorry.' Bang, the wolf met a similar fate as his fellow class mate. His lifeless body fell forward with a splat as the back of his head lay exposed and bloody. Shannon treated the wolf cub's body much like the coyote's, positioning him in his desk. Shannon continued down the line of students. Her off white towel, now soaked through in blood and brain did little to help clean off the wall. But she did not care. The monster that lived within the kids, began to get more aggressive. The smell of their brethren’s blood in the air turned them into ferocious snarling beasts. They seemed to lunge at her before being stopped dead in their tracks by a bullet. Soon no kids where left. The classroom was quiet, save for the sound of the clock as it ticked away in the background. In addition to the sound of the blood that dripped from the cold desks. It plipped and pattered away as Mrs. Shannon slumped in her desk, relaxed and relieved. She set the gun down and slept soundly for the first time in a week. She was awakened by the sound of the recess bell. No one stood in her classroom. No one but Mrs. Shannon. But soon her door opened. It was Shelley. “Good morning Mrs. Shannon! I just thought I'd....” she stopped short as she saw the blood smeared on the walls. Concrete chipped away from the walls where the hot pieces of lead had embedded themselves. Shelley screamed and wailed and rushed out of the room and down the hall to the Principal's office. Shannon felt no remorse only blissful peace. A few years after the incident, Shannon found herself in front of children. She taught within the white, sterile walls of the penitentiary that housed both Shannon and a small group of challenged kids. She was under observation from behind a one way mirror. Psychiatrists and doctors studied her stability, stability needed in order to be sent to a prison. Many of the parents and families of the kids she killed, thought that she got off easy. They all wanted to see her die. When the judge deemed her insane and sentenced her to psychiatric care, many where crushed. She looked over the children and smiled the entire time. She read from her book, a picture book with only three lines per page. Everything seemed to be going fine. Toward the end of the book, Shannon began to frown and tears formed at her face. She began to become agitated by the presence of the children and was soon taken back to her room. Later that same night, Shannon was found hanged in her cell. Bed sheets turned into rope and tied to the coat hook behind the strong door... Keep an eye out for Peace with the Dogs The next short story that intertwines with this one.