for Darkness begets Darkness
Hey diddle diddle… Here comes Piddle…
It had been one accident, way back in grade 1, just one, and the name had suck on. Everywhere he went the chant followed him. He had tried his hardest to become invisible, kept to himself, staying away from the lockers and gym, eating lunch alone behind the cafeteria, ignoring all the snickers and taunts, waiting for the death of Piddle.
But Piddle would not die. On the contrary new tales were invented and with every passing year the legend of Piddle grew. Even the juniors were taught to call him that. When he had told his father, the Colonel only rebuked him. Take it like a man, son. Then this morning in the lab, while they were testing for Ammonia, Mr. Haas had asked them to describe the pungent smell and the entire class had shouted out – Smells like Piddle and pointed at him. Even Haas had laughed. That was the ultimate humiliation. Even the teachers knew the name. They knew it and had done nothing to stop it. Instead they were laughing too. Everyone was laughing.
He had run out of the door, trying to muffle the pain that threatened to bubble out. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Right now he couldn’t even bear to see himself. So he had continued running; running till he was out of the school, running down the lanes, running till his lungs were on fire, and then when he could run no more, he had huddled up and screamed. Screamed and screamed until he could scream no more.
It was days before he returned to school again.
He slowly walked to the center of the cafeteria, took out his father’s gun, and started firing.