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Young Writers Society


Halls



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Points: 300
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Thu Jan 26, 2012 8:17 pm
AuroraThorne says...



The only sounds in these halls are those of old time memories, filled with laughter and fun, now only silence.

Now the old lockers no longer hold books and coats, now overfilled with weeds.

The only sound in the old school are the squeaking of my shoes. A ghost of the silent school.

The gym is alive. Its Trojan head painted up on the wall. I stand by it, looking up. I turn and see a scene. A group of boys playing basketball. They yell and shoot. Then they disappear, replaced with another memory. Kids in P.E., waiting to start. Some run, others talk, and I just stand in the corner before walking out.

It's 2014, and the world we know is gone. Encased in an icy tomb. We were the first to go. It was nearly two years ago, in the winter. At first it was calm, then it started snowing, then it was ice. It was painful. To freeze. Slowly and painfully we lost a person. Some killed themselves, others died from the cold. I perished from food poisoning.

I stand in the once alive cafeteria. An image appears and the smell of French fries and laughter fill the once silent air. And in the gym more sounds appear. The sound of basketball and teachers talking and laughing. And then they are gone. Now only silence rings through my ears.

The silence fills the air as I walk through the dead school, down to the elementary. And in the chorus room I saw a memory that I knew. One filled with music and sound. It was gone almost as soon as I made a sound. I felt sadness in the air.

I wandered around outside on the playground. The laughter in the air returned in a child's voice. Elementary children ran and jumped on the jungle gym. Some sat on swings or spoke to each other under the now frozen trees.

I walked in the hallway by the gym, now in a black gown. I stood with the rest of my class. Then soft music came from the gym and we walked slowly and with pride. And for a while we sat and listened to what we saw in the years when we lived. And at the end the last words are:

"I give to you the world"

Then just like that everything is gone. The music, the chairs, the class, and the silent girl. The school rang with silence, the walls fell apart, the chairs and desks shattered and the only sound in the old halls was the squeaking of shoes.

The school lost in time. Buried in its frozen tomb. These old halls never to see the light of day. The staff and students long gone. Nearby a paper is fluttered by an invisible breeze. It has only a few words written on it, but they tell the truth. Written not to long ago by a student. You can almost here her voice as she writes the quote down…

"Silence is a true friend that never betrays."
Do what you need for the halls call all home
  





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Fri Jan 27, 2012 11:39 am
Dingobabee says...



Wow, I love this! It's such a good tone for the story you are trying to convay and the last line is perfect!
The Writers could rule the world. Simply because we have thought of the various ways to do it.
  








Sometimes poetry is inspired by the conversation entered into by reading other poems.
— John Barton