Try this.....

[dragula_66]

Good challenge. I'll take a shot at it.

The heavy branch made dull, wet sounds as it connected. Again, and again, and again with the head of geramy. However, there was no mercy or remorse in regans eyes as he struck. Pieces of skull, brain and blood stained the wall and ground behind the main school building as regan continued, with all his might to literally beat his step-brothers head into the hard, parched earth. His insanity was finally broken by the screams of other students, and he sprinted back inside the building, revelling in the sweet taste of revenge.

Regan flew down the aisle of the classroom, and leapt the teachers desk as easily as he would a flowerbed, to kneel beside the huddled, shivering form of mrs thatcher, their teacher, his mother, geramy's victim. As he looked at her all thoughts of justice and revenge left him, to be replaced with a dull sense of shock, and silent tears streamed down his young face. "how could he have done it" he cried. She was the only mother he ever knew.

 

[Sketti]

Here's what I came up with.

Albert smirked down at the miserable excuse for a human being sobbing before the whole class. There were but few things in life that brought him as much satisfaction as showing all these wannabe accountants the futility of their efforts. They were pathetic and slow. Not one in this latest lot was worth his time.
”Cry all you want, Mister Freeman, that paper is not even worth the ink it took to write that F,” he told him coldly, “return to your seat. Now.” No student rose to challenge him.
However, Freeman did not return to his seat, instead, he collapsed at the foot of the raised desk and sobbed on his knees. Albert scoffed and moved to help him to his feet, he had only so many weeks to impart his knowledge to this latest band of morons and Freeman was wasting a portion of that time.
“You listen to me, and listen good,” he bellowed at the class once Freeman was back in a seat, “this is not fun. I’m not here to make sure you all graduate. I’m here to make sure idiots like you don’t go taking the place that rightfully belong to actually intelligent people. You all got into this program thinking it would be easy. You thought you’d breeze through. Well guess what? That’s not how this business works! Your other professors may tell you how brilliant you are, what good children! ********! I didn’t get to where I am that way and neither will you! It took sweat and blood and more determination that you lazy asses could ever muster! No one made it easy for me! No one encouraged me! No one gave me another chance because I was too sick to come to a class! It took ten long and hard years! They didn’t make it easy for me and I will not make it easy for you! Prof. Whiteberry made me a stronger, better man and I thank him everyday for all the times he made me repeat an exercise or rewrite a paper or failed me a course. I will be your Prof. Whiteberry!”

I tried not to make him pathetic but pitiable.

 

[Saltheart]

She laughed inanely, as though her entire sanity was leaking like the brain fluids from the cracks in her skull. Her children screamed at the sight of their dying mother. She dropped the lighter into the kerosine, and from it the flames surged like thousands of orange devils. "Goodbye, fuckers." And then she turned away as the bastards burnt to death, screaming into the night, and walked back to the cemetary, grinning like a demon under the full moon.

It was finally over. She had made her choice.

She swept her children into her hands and kissed and hugged them for as long as she could. She refused to let them out of her sight again. They shivered and shuddered through the whole night, and by the time they were calm, it was almost dawn. Like the demons' ashes flying to the sea, she could see the sparrows coming for her, too, from the golden horizon. Still holding her children firmly, a tear fell from one of her eyes as she exhaled one long, tired, convulsion.