By Deserted School
I look up and stare at the great black gate acting as the only barrier between me and the desolate school ground. As I push back the steel rods of the gate, a swift blow of air and a deafening creak greets me. Stepping into the campus, I look up to see the old building, the paint fading and chipping off, revealing the wooden boards underneath.
The wildflower bushes growing out of control, seem to take over the property and cobwebs hang loose on every corner. The windows are full of cracks, some shattered, almost symbolizing the dreams and aspirations that rose and died within the four walls of the school. It is the only school that I ever stepped in that has such a sinister and eerie feeling to it.
The grass in the playground is dead and dry. The slow creaks of the swing sends shivers down my spine. The long rusted chains hang motionless and silent, yet still are in the middle of the tubular, ivy entwined framework. The smooth wooden seat which I remember from my youth is now rough, split, and warped lying submerged in a bed of tall thistles.
All of the memories of my childhood come flooding back; the once yellow tunnel is not brown-beige and barely visible through the patches of moss and vines. What once echoed of laughter and mischief; what once was a place of joy, of peace and tranquility can now be deemed as a set of some horror movie.
Mist hangs over the building like a rain cloud getting ready to unleash a torrent. Looking down at the school door almost hanging off its hinges, I push it open slightly with my index finger, cringing at the high pitched shriek it makes. I cannot help but question if his structure ever held the pillar of knowledge as now it looks dreary, depressing, and cold. Surging forward leaves crunch under my boot. Every step that I took forward is incredibly bone-chilling but still mysterious and the mystery and history of this structure calls to me like a siren.
The classrooms which once were filled with echoes of laughter now amplifies nothing but silence. The entrance that once was admired is now a sorry sight of splintered beams, pale paint chips, and a thick layer of suffocating dust. Rats have long been driven away by the lonely and hopelessness that has now engulfed the building.
The schools that once boasted about its fine interior is left in nothing but scattering debris buried in filth. The vile odor coming from the damp and rot of the mighty table and chair clog my nose. Then a sound hits me. For a second, I am ready to believe that a child is crying in the distance but it is the awful whining of rusty door hinges that provide nothing but an unwelcoming feeling towards the dwelling.
My footsteps echo throughout the empty halls. Flickering light left on illuminates the pathway just enough to see by. Water drips somewhere, creating a hollow pinking noise that reverberates in my head making it almost impossible to ignore. I keep walking, not getting anywhere. The walls shift and creak and the looming emptiness of the building is unavoidable. The barrenness of the whole thing sits on my back, creating unnecessary pressure.
I shudder with the overhanging dampness and trace my steps back towards the entrance. The cold and shivering feeling that this dismay brought is unavoidable and disturbing. The thick layer of dust settled on everything in sight is giving the place an atmosphere of being untouched for many years. The pungent smell of disgust and rotting brings the bile from my stomach to my mouth through the throat. Appalled by all of this, I quickly rush out of the school gate placing a mental note to never step in this desolate area again.
Photos by: Enda O’Flaherty
Read More From Shreeansha:
Woes Of A Worrier | Story by Shreeansha Bhattarai [Offline Thinker]
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