Before the blood finished flowing down the stairs, End returned to the front door. His shoes came into the view of the camera, his undone shoelaces dragging through the blood.

The world spun as End reached down and scooped up the camera and Mr. Hopscotch. Oddly, he did not point the camera at his face. For once, he held it in front of him as he skipped through the halls. “Come on, I made a new friend!”

The picture bounced with him, barely catching glimpses of blue metal lockers, white walls, splattered blood, and the occasional limb. End stopped in front of a pair of blue metal doors, with chipped paint and one of the doors hanging partially off its hinges. End’s pale, clean hand came into the camera’s view and pushed the door open.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Sneakers squeaked on a gym floor as End stepped into the room, “aw man!” End whined. The camera drooped, the gym- basketball hoop, bright colored lines, a small crumpled body- flashing by. The shiny wood floor was all the camera saw as End walked forward. End reached the crumpled body; an elbow in a bright red shirt and a scraped knee came into view.

The camera swung and End’s sneaker with bloody shoelaces nudged a gun out of a hand smaller than his.

“Oh well.”