Literature
The Conductor.fear itself.
FEAR ITSELF
Passing bell rang and the class stood up to leave with much voracity, like race horses out the starting gates. I grabbed the straps of my backpack and tried to head out the backdoor before Mr. Mahler could catch me, feeling sure he’d want a word. I could just see it on his face, the urgent need to rake me over the coals for my unconsciousness. There was a bottle-neck though, thirty-five some odd students all trying to fit through a three and a half foot wide doorway.
“Miss Shastid, I’d like to speak to you.” Mr. Mahler called out loudly, like a barking rottweiler, before I could even reach the crowd before
