100 Years of Detention

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a Short Story i came up with.

Submitted: October 18, 2011

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Submitted: October 18, 2011

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Tuesday. Boring. 16th November. 2000. The ear-deafening Victorian bell rang in our ears, as the noise of boasting children ran in from break, loudly waiting for the teacher to settle them down.

I had waited at least 30minutes before i began to worry. Tabatha, a short geek of a girl, trudged her books across the long worn out library carpet to where i had been sitting. She was twirling her short black hair round her finger; in a way i knew something was wrong.

Walking round the school i had noticed a lot of the rooms were locked and had a hard-cover old book lain out on a page at the front desks, page 16. Tabatha looked nervous so i pressed on. We hadn’t seen anyone around at all. All was quiet.

Nearing the old library there was a lot of noises of children now, small voices. Shortly after walking in, trying to settle the kids down, i heard a click. The dark wooden door was locked from the outside. We rushed into the next room. The cloakroom.

The dim cloakroom was cold, only a shed of light came from a stain-glass window. The exit door was locked. The windows too. We were surly trapped, our phone signals were signal less and they were outside.

~

We could hear the clomping boots, heaving themselves down the dark cobbled hallway. I could hear the click outside the door. When the stomping had stopped, a light gassy smoke had seeped thought the broad, lifeless door. They must have smelt it too because the singing had stopped.

We heard loud screams of young children, and the hurry of teachers, shouting for order. The smoke grew thicker i noticed a small letterbox like hole in the brick wall, fire burst out like a volcano. Neither of us got up. We just sat there.

~

In the stone floor, dim room, there was a light singing, whispery singing. A chill ran down my back, they must have felt it too, because they look round at me cautiously. Tabatha had been breathing heavily the whole time; all of this had been scaring her. I felt sorry for her. Miranda, the class drama queen, had a coat over her shivering in a corner.

The whispery singing got louder, and was not must of a whisper by then. I noticed a slit window leading to an old un-used classroom. It hadn’t been used anymore, since the roof had begun to crumble. I pressed my ear gently on the window; the song was like a scream of pain running though my skull, i peered though to see 3 transparent, white figures sitting extremely uncomfortably in wooden desks, one behind one. The room was full of ashes and soot. Slowly, they looked up.

~

Chris Howard, a good man-a children’s man. He loved to teach. But after the incident he didn’t teach any longer. One day, after the school bell rang early. I didn’t see Sir Howard after that. never again.

~

“Hello? My name is-”i began to say in a small voice; it was bad enough i was talking to ghosts. They put their chalk down and whispered...

“Shh...Sir Howard might hear us.” They returned to their singing, staring at the big chalk board which read, “Detention.”

Back in the old Library, which had been turned into a classroom, i hadn’t really noticed the pictures of the young men, who fought in the war; there was a hard-cover old book on the desk. Page 16. I pick it up to see the title. “St. Aubrey’s, 1857-1901” the date grew in my mind.

Reading though, i could still hear the singing. The last words of the last paragraph had said “The suicidal death of Sir Chris Howard, had the school closed.” And that very second, The Bell went.

~

The bell rang after 100 years. As my trapped soul became free, to leave this dull, dusty place, i had one more thank you i had to share.

~

Tuesday. Boring. 16th November. 2000. The ear-deafening Victorian bell rang in our ears, as the noise of boasting children ran in from break, loudly waiting for the teacher to settle them down.

I still hear the ghosts in this classroom, with the crumbled roof and heavy broad door, as i write the tale of my 4 friends. Scarlette White, Harvey Bird, Phoebe Winters and of course, Sir Chris Howard.


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