Fountain's Pool School

There is an old dilapidated-looking school near the duckweed filled ditch, called the Fountain's Pool. Its windows have been boarded up, but a strange flashing blue light can be seen piercing through the slits at night. Kids on the street warn each other not to snoop around, for those who do never come back alive. If your mum's lucky, she might find your body floating in the ditch, looking more like a plastic bag than a human. No kid has ever known anyone who goes to the Fountain's Pool, yet each afternoon hundreds of strange children frolic out from its cast iron doors. Again nobody knows who they are, where they live, or who their parents are. They speak in a weird manner, and are strangely polite to every adult they meet.
The school is almost exclusively taught by elderly and retired teachers, who always enter but never seem to come back out again. Maybe they only leave at night? Maybe they live there? Who knows. When a teacher in town retires, they are often heard saying "Farewell my students! It's been an honour teaching you but now I am going to the Fountain's Pool. I will see you again when you're older."
But I have visited the Fountain's Pool and let me tell you what I found there, for it turned my hair blonde. One night I climbed out of my bedroom. As I slinked through the street I had to dodge my dad coming back from a bender with his pals. I was smart, and took a nice thick pole from the construction site to jump over the green grassy waters of the ditch. I crawled to the window, scrapping my shirt on the dry lifeless dirt which surrounds the Fountain's Pool. I made my way across the windows, until I found a little hole I could take a look through. Inside I saw one of the missing kids, hooked up to a series of strange machines filling the room. Next to him stood a teacher who looked like she was older than the town itself. Her face was white and gaunt, her pink glasses sitting atop a crooked warty nose and attached to the back of her head with beaded strings. She wore a peter pan collar dress and a crown made of milk teeth. An army of old retired teachers listened to her speak with bated breath, but I couldn't quite make out what she said. She flipped a switch, and the machines sprang to live with that same blue light you see escape from the school at night. The old teachers formed an orderly line, one by one they walked into the machine, and a kid would come jumping cheerfully out the other end. Each time a teacher entered the machine, the child attached to the machine gave out a pained groan, and slowly his body began to crumple like a pack of apple juice. When the last teacher went through the machine the child was nothing but a pile of skin.
I screamed at the sight of him, and my hair turned white from fear! All the kids who had left the machine turned to me, and came rushing out of the Fountain's Pool like a pack of wild baboons, howling and hollering at me. Thankfully my pole had stayed on the edge of the ditch. I leaped over the ditch, but mid jump my pole broke with a loud crack! I barely made it to the other side, and threw the half that stayed in my hand at one of the kids on the other side. I scurried through town, and climbed my way back into bed. I stayed awake until the voice of my mum called me to wake up. Never have I heard anything sweeter, and I finally knew I was safe. But I am never going back to the Fountain's Pool, and neither should you! Pool, and neither should you!