PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Walking down the desolate halls of her school, normally so happy and full of life, Chris struggled to figure out why everything seemed different. With a wind whistling down the coridoors, banging doors and windows, chilling her to her bones and plucking at her hair with ghosting fingers, she suddenly realised what it was. She was unclothed. Looking around wildly, she wondered how she'd managed to get to school without clothes on. Footsteps approached from ahead, and she swore beneath her breath. If she was found naked in school... she'd be expelled! She'd be arrested! She'd be a laughing stock! It was the final thought that spurred her into the door to her left. Slamming it shut behind her, she leant against it with a sigh, relief flooding her as she heard the voices that were passing. Tracey Dallager and her bunch, the most popular girls in school. They'd never have let her live this down. Looking around, she wondered why she'd never noticed this room before. A flaming brand was affixed to the wall in a mount, and she lifted it out carelessly, wondering where the daunting steps that swept away beneath her feet lead to. They soon disappeared into black, the almost solid darkness retreating reluctantly in front of the fire she held with both hands. The steps continued on for an infinate about of time, spiralling deeper and deeper into the earth. Pausing for a moment as the stairs stopped for a moment at a door, she tried to decide whether to take this way out, or continue down the stairs. Choosing the door, she stepped through into the cloak room, not even wondering how she'd come back to the ground floor after descending for so long. The bell sung its few melodic notes, heralding an anouncement, she stopped what she was doing, looking expectantly up at the loudspeaker. "Will all students please come to assembly." Repeating five or six times, the message played out, and Chris swore quietly once more. She'd have to go through people's bags to try and find some spare clothes to use. Going to the first schoolbag, in the coridoor of bags that lined six or seven shelves, heading as far as the eye could see, she started on the first. Luck of luck, it held a complete outfit. Donning the clothes, she looked at herself in the mirror, watching herself from all three panes, before deciding she looked nice. Heading to the door in the next room that lead to assembly, she stepped through, sure she would be early. She was horrified when, instead of opening into a coridoor, the door opened onto the stage, and, as she tried to shut the door behind her, it... pushed her out, and shut behind her, slowly disappearing. Looking back at the rows and rows and rows of thousands of children gathered before her, there was an astonished murmur, before people started to chuckle. Soon, everyone in that hall was laughing, the sweat from their exertion glistening on naked flanks.