The Gulls

Hailey trudges the edge of the playing field, picking litter. They should make the kids eat inside.

A gull flaps down, looking for crumbs. Hailey flinches, remembering that holiday in Cornwall when a seagull did just the same thing: stole her ice cream and left her with a black-eye. The kids really should eat indoors!

Hailey's been working at Greenacres Secondary for six years. In that time, she's seen a string of headteachers and rule changes. Behaviour worsened, skirts shortened. More bullying of staff and students alike. Some boys lure the birds with bits of pizza bagel, then throw stones at them.

With Summer holidays on the horizon, a heatwave sweeps over the county. The kids burn gently for 20 minutes at 11am and 1pm daily. Gulls circle, swooping closer. They're bigger than you think, and they've abandoned other food sources. Their wariness of humans has melted away.

They start stealing food right from students' hands, undeterred by swinging bookbags. The attacks escalate.

Surely over the holidays, the gulls will forage for food normally again? From September, the Head's email says, all food must be eaten in the canteen.

The first day back, an urgent message is sent to AllStaff: Has anyone seen Emily Grieves (Yr9)? She's not been marked in for any lessons since morning break. Suspicions of truancy coalesced into horror when someone found her bookbag, torn and bloodied. Kids picked over the spreading rumours like vultures.

Next day, another student disappears, then another. Increased security doesn't help. Many parents stop sending their children to school.

Hailey, on break duty, sees gulls attacking a student. She rushes to help, but her steps skitter when she sees the glow in their eyes and red on their beaks. Frenzied tearing at flesh, strip after strip, the clatter of wings almost loud enough to drown out Billy's shrieking.

Hailey wields her litter-picker like a weapon, helps Billy up, and they stumble together towards the main building. He clamps a hand over his eye to keep it in the socket. Blood trickles through his fingers. The birds regroup, swooping again.

We're not going to make it.

They vanish under a cloud of wings.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Word count excluding note: 366 Submitted on Friday 2nd August at 23.58 - I'm slightly early posting this one! Still trying to get ahead because of anticipated internet access problems.

*Quick Author's Note* First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent. If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another! A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 216 day streak since 1st January. Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day! Rachel Deeming Gerard DiLeo Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier. The story behind the story: Guys, I went full Hitchcock! 🤣 This is a response to my own Dollar Challenge for August, which you can read about here.

The image: I was pleased with this one. The birds do look like they'd have you, don't they? Remind me of a standard 90s music video.

Thank you again!

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +