Creepy Teacher Novels & Stories

I was sort of mind blown, to be exact. Is this even necessary? I mean— I’m even wearing a white blazer. No matter from which angle she looks, I’m definitely the one and only new special student. “Lucifer Nightwalker von Nightmare?” Why are you even trying to be a teacher? Go be a swimsuit model or something! It seems she realised I was annoyed by her behaviour. The teacher quickly closes my information with a troubled expression and looks at Kuroyuki. “Well… Kuroyuki`s a bit—”

Craig's POV Sitting in World Government class, I watched the enthusiastic newbie teacher, a twenty-something-year-old inexperienced werewolf eager to teach us. He used a butt load of words that annoyed my classmates. No one took him seriously, especially the vampires because all he did was ramble about some of the world's werewolf leaders. "Go ahead with the teaching already," I groaned, tired and struggling to listen while tapping my pencil on my desk. "This dude is going to cause some trouble," I whispered to Thorne who was playing games on his phone.

"Excuse me?" "You hit me with a…" I trailed off, looking around for what he hit me with. I found the culprit lying on the floor, a red chalk. Give a round of applause to the only teacher who would use chalk to write on a marker board. The only teacher who would wear pants big enough to fit an extra human his size and an old shirt I'm sure was passed on to him from his father's father. The teacher was old-fashioned, odd, and ugly. Yet he loved staring at boobs. "Can you tell me why you are sleeping when I'm teaching?"

With that she left me to climb the stairs. The stairs creaked as I went up. They felt old and rickety and far from safe. The nerves were still there fluttering in my stomach. The stairs opened up into a large attic room. It was setup like a Victorian classroom. The floors were timber and creaked as they were stepped on. The eaves were filled with bookshelves with a large selection of leather-bound books covered in dust. At the front of the room was a large old-fashioned blackboard. There was a handful of desks, the wooden variety with an open top lid and small inkwell. There was space at each for two people and five in total. Only one desk was empty at the back of the room, so I took my plac

I studied her carefully as the footage played. The said teacher stepped into the room mid-review, panic flickering across her face. She quickly introduced herself as Nicole and with a calm voice tried to explain. “I saw them use tricks,” she said boldly. “It was witchcraft. They manipulated objects to deceive the teachers.” I noted the subtle metallic scent clinging to her clothes, faint but noticeable. Wolves instinctively recoiled from it. I did not call her out, not yet. Internally, I cataloged every detail, storing it for later. Something was very wrong.

I was confused, and somewhat scared. "You put your career at risk, Lyla." The female teacher in a burgundy dress clicked her tongue and came forward, stretching out her hand. "I'm Cecelia, by the way." "You guys are actually scaring me," I searched their face for something that could give away whatever they were thinking. "I have only taught one class since morning, and I don't think I've really done anything that would elicit this kind of look from you." "Haven't you noticed it already?" Cecelia asked while unwrapping a sweet and sticking it into her mouth. "The weird looks that students are giving you? Some are pitying you, and some—"

At the ceremony where my mother, Helena Marlow, received the Best Homeroom Teacher award, the parents wept with gratitude. They praised her for nurturing the students successfully without ever resorting to harsh discipline, and for helping them all to excellent results. But no one knew that the path to their children’s success had been paved by Mom, using me as a warning to others. When someone in the class stole money, cheated on an exam, or got into a romantic relationship, I was the one punished. During the ceremony, the principal, Ms. Wanda Ambrose, stepped onto the stage to present her award. She asked, “Ms. Marlow, you have so many outstanding students in your class. Which student

But yes, I can appreciate men who are good-looking, but I just can’t see myself fangirling over that guy like how the girls in this school fangirl over that teacher who’s a predator. He’s literally 28 years old when he fucked a 16-year-old girl. Who fucking does that? That is just so creepy, and I can’t believe he’s still teaching here as if nothing happened. It also states here that he actually won awards outside the country since he’s a great teacher. What in the world? I concluded that maybe this is one of the reasons why the school doesn’t let this teacher go. He’s a great teacher and it’s a plus that he’s good looking. This teacher attracts some young girls, and that’s really creepy.

The next class was Mystic Morphology, which had to do with paranormal physiology and other esoteric life sciences. “Hell, the only reason I registered for this course is that I heard the teacher is hot as f*ck!” I overheard a girl chattering in excitement and her bimbo friends screamed in excitement. I couldn’t withhold my scoff. Even if he was hot, he’d probably be ten to fifteen years older, and those airheads wouldn’t even appeal to him. A loud gasp made me snap my head upwards from my tablet, just in time to watch the teacher walk into the class.

Oh God. I shake my head furiously at him. "Of course not! Do you think I'm naive enough to give in to him? That is just a pathetic rumor" He narrows his eyes at me in slight suspicion before sighing in relief. "Good," he mutters. "Good?" I grin. He chuckles and ruffles my hair affectionately. "Good." Our English teacher is a werewolf, so she holds me back after class to talk to me for a bit. And by talking, I mean gushing about how sad she is about what happened yesterday.