The spindly body of the old schoolmaster lay broken in the classroom. I suppose I had not expected him to survive among all the dead, but there was some pang in my heart at seeing him there, where his duty was, caught up in things far beyond his ken. He’d been preparing some diagram on the chalkboard; half-finished, no children would groan nor copybooks be filled. Of all the dead, this one hung heavy with me. He had simply gone about his job, as best he could, no doubt grumbling just as much as his charges, ignorant of the danger.
In the Schoolroom
Tale Told 