I’m just a high school student so please don’t expect novel quality writing.Edit
The buildings stood there, as they have for a few years, tall and proud, with each building connected to the other in some fashion. The paint on the brickwork is now peeling off, like someone had taken their nails and jabbed away aimlessly, for weeks on end. White paint had shown when things were lively, making sure it could never be missed, but that was years ago. Now the buildings just stood there, rotting like an old corpse that hasn’t been buried, just lying there, the elements degrading it, slowly, but surely. These halls had an odd familiar type feeling, yet it couldn’t be placed on what it was.
The halls were long and narrow, just as they have been for years. The paint on the walls chipping away, like the outside, except the inside was much worse, like someone took a grinding machine and hammered away at the wall, lines scratched into the brush work. The lockers on the walls signified that this was a school, a high-school. Happy faces of teenagers used to walk down these halls, the noise making what felt like a dungeon, feel somewhat survivable. The doors to the classrooms were crooked, some off the hinges completely, flat out on the ground from where people beat down the doors to open up the path to hidden treasures, to no avail, this school was barely functioning, poor beyond belief, so there were no computers, projectors, or televisions. Just pure emptiness, shallow emptiness, the silence maddening from how it used to be chaotically loud.
Someone could walk around the buildings for days, and find nothing, this locale was picked clean when it shut its doors, just to open them to people that needed a quick buck, to grab something and sell it off. The tables and desks flipped without a care, laying strewn all over the classroom. The teacher’s desk is nowhere to be found, as that was hauled off long ago, nearly an hour after the school was left for abandonment. The city didn’t have the funds to tear the school down, so they left it up as a memorial to the people that took the time to do what they needed for their community. The various types of classrooms were numerous in type, science rooms, computer labs, foreign language rooms, you name it, and the school probably had it.
The selfish greed of the people is what caused this poor innocent building to go down to nothing, worth less than the land it was on. People kept stealing from the school, making it spend more and more money to replace the stolen goods, to where the school eventually couldn’t keep the game of lose and receive going, if something was stolen, it was gone for good. The students enjoyed this little game, as they never were caught, and they never lost their taken treasure. The teachers never cared enough about their job to worry about it, as it wasn’t their job to replace what was taken. If something turned up missing, they just turned their head and left it at that, just a missing object, worthless in value.
People can explore the school, any time of day, any day of the year, they aren’t trespassing, so people have taken this dilapidated shelter as a place to do some various frowned upon activities, that the law would prosecute them for in a heartbeat, the school has been a site for many shoot offs and gang wars, so the blood of the fallen may be seen splattered around, with the occasional body being discovered, just for the police to take away without much word to the local news. No one ventures to the school without at least one tool to defend themselves with, be it a gun, a knife, or even a metal rod they found at the school.
Rumor has it that one of the past students still attends the school, but no longer are they a student, but an urban legend, the community just calls him “Wind” after the fact that few have supposedly seen him, and fewer have such proof. He lingers around closed places, taking them as his home, so the next time you see a closed store, or a gas station, there might be someone staring at you as you stare at the ruins of the former building they once were. No one has ever said that Wind was a murderer, but a person living off of the misfortune of others, such as dropping some food, dropping a hat or jacket, it all ends up missing, never to be seen again. They say that he has a stash of over a grand in lost possessions, but he has no need for them as he lives off of nothing.
Some people have ventured out to try and find this stash that Wind has created, to get their hands on the goodies that he has found. Every time something closes down, people form groups to search it for the hidden trove of treasure that may be lying there in wait for somebody to get their hands on. Many people have tried to stop those that dare to search, saying that even if they were to find the trove, the supposed treasure they would find would just be worthless because its only clothes. The greedy people shrug it off and keep their searches going, for that elusive cache of clothes, many, just looking for the proof that Wind exists.
So the next time a building is closed down, try and see if there’s a figure looking back, or if people excavate it for the next possible location of Wind.
This was written during a down day I had at school, imagining the apocalypse, and what it would be like. This is sort of my view on it.