“I’m terrified,” one student wrote in a recent anonymous survey. “I thought I would be safe in my own home, but now that I know that…thing…is out there, I live in constant fear that I could be next.”
I could be next: these are the words that trouble the minds of IHS students and staff alike. The case of the “Serial Face Thief,” as it has come to be known, has created a growing sensation of fear in the community, causing IHS administrators to advise students to double-check their locks and lock screens before bed.
“Lock your Windows and doors. Or if you’re on a Chromebook…Well, they block everything, so you should be safe,” administrators said when asked for commentary, revealing the lack of knowledge regarding the Thief’s methods of attack. At this time, little remains known about the culprit. No one can be sure how the Thief is infiltrating the victims’ homes, nor can we say what sort of atrocities take place. Is it a single individual? A group of vandals? An incorporeal entity? Only those who have lived through the experience can enlighten us, but unfortunately, it has been impossible to make contact with the victims following their encounters with the Thief. Whether this is because the victims are left physically unable to speak or traumatized by the experience remains unknown.
Only one thing is certain: since the first day of school, faces have been disappearing one by one from virtual classrooms. What started off as a seemingly-innocent trend has grown exponentially in recent weeks.
Mrs. Crowly, a 10th grade Honors English teacher, tearfully described the slow demise of her once-vibrant classroom environment. What was once a Google Meet filled with awkwardly-smiling sophomores has been transformed into a cold, empty void of avatars. One by one, the faces disappeared, leaving behind only a sinister silence and the nostalgic memory of what once was. At first, Mrs. Crowly was unconcerned—a reaction shared by most teachers in the earliest days of the scare. At first, it seemed likely that students were simply shy, or perhaps embarrassed to show their faces on camera. But as even the most rambunctious and outspoken students began to disappear, it became clear that something else entirely was going on. “I would ask a question and just…silence,” Mrs. Crowly said. “No matter what I tried, there was no response. Then I heard the rumors and realized: my students hadn’t just lost face. They actually lost their faces!”
Mrs. Crowly invited skeptical administrators to see for themselves, but when administrators logged onto her 2B virtual classroom on Tuesday morning, they were horrified by the sea of silent icons that confronted them — a certain “Jennifer Crowly” among them. This shocking revelation only reveals the extent of the danger posed by our unknown assailant. No one is safe, not even our beloved teachers.
There is one bright side to come from all of this. While the Thief’s victims may no longer be with us in any visual or auditory form, we are cautiously optimistic that they are still alive. The remaining teachers continue to report near full attendance as well as the abrupt departure of students at the end of class time. Although we are unable to communicate with the icons, we can at least take comfort in the knowledge that the Thief’s victims possess enough life within their empty, faceless shells to click the Google Meet link at the start of each class.
To those members of our school community who have spent sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling with silent dread, rest assured that your fate is surely not death, though it could be much, much worse. As for our faceless friends, we can be reasonably sure that they are most likely alive and well. Probably.
In a recent statement, IHS administrators wrote, “With a little bit of tenacity and ownership, we will reach the other side of this mountain together, IHS! Be strong, stay str— ” before their tangible forms permanently disappeared from
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