They say people are no longer haunted by the case of the girl who used Locker 7. How she walked home from school and stopped by the park to feed the ducks.
How she was taken screaming to a muffled basement and scratched with frantic fingers on the walls. Days later found, ice-cold, her eyes white and rolled back like a dead fowl.
Pupils prayed to God and lit candles at the feet of marble-eyed statues in the school cloisters.
But I know if you open the door of locker 7, you see white rolled-back eyes, and feel ice-cold fingers.
Written for ‘100 Words’