Eee! it won hehe. Thanks kids.
Tap…tap…tap…
The rhythmic click of heels on the cold tile floor suited the décor of the hallway. You could expect clicking heels amongst the sterile white walls and the stiff white figures almost marching down the long corridor. Rows of doors lined this corridor; blank white doors, with cold metal handles, small locks hiding beneath. In the centre, near the top of each door, was a number, painted a pale ice blue against the white. Alternating numbers across the hallway, right-one, left-two, right-three, left-four. So it continued along the hallway, each door waiting to be opened, the key inserted and the handle turned.
The end of the corridor, opening onto a large open space, painted white once again. Metal attachments were everywhere, the handles, the locks, the legs of chairs. Such a cold environment, one must wonder, what goes on here? Past the short office table, glass separating the public from the administrator, past the door marked ‘Janitor’. Then on and on once again, passing doors; all the same, numbers blurring. Metal handles now one long rail, almost clear enough to hold.
WAIT
What is that?
A mirror clearly placed in the hallway, a mirror waiting, yearning for someone to look in. Hands sliding over polished metal. No. Not a mirror, not really; new, cold, uninviting, move away. Pale white and framing, glistening dark silver-grey, stark white walls encompassing another cold sign,
‘Do not run’
Run? What is this?
Slow, careful. Pale white once again; no colour, not now, even the cold metal has gone, left behind. Glass up ahead, sigh, metal again; framing the glass, clear colour streams through the cold bars. First blue sky calling to be seen, and then green grass waiting to be stepped upon, those trees so tall, so large; asking to be climbed, see it all.
Clear drops rain down upon the beautiful scene, and the colour runs, the bars melt, what was once beautiful, has now gone. Pass this spot, onto another, pale white once again running through the walls; covering, suffocating, there.
RUN
Run?
Run, past the doors numbers blurring once more, colours running, metal rail just as before. Will it happen again? Only time can tell, but the wait, how long will it be? It doesn’t matter, moving once again. Past doors and walls, painted faces and stern maidens, past strict men and loving ladies, run, don’t stop, run.
LISTEN
Laugher?
Laughter, clear, loudly rings out, the hallways echoing, like they miss this clear joyous sound. Cannot stop now, keep running; legs crying, pain searing, the exercise, never done before, but the laughter, continue towards the laughter.
PAUSE
A corridor; very familiar, pale white, just like all the rest, but wait, where is the laughter? It has gone, left. The doors; such a pale white, handles; cold metal, locks hiding beneath, there are rows of them, door after door; all identical, the same. Numbers, on the doors, familiar numbers, alternating across the hallway; right-one, left-two, right-three, left-four.
STOP
