I wrote this a couple of years ago as a story within a story that never came to be. I like it enough that I thought I’d share it:
It was dark in the school. This always caused in us a sense of belonging that was never present when the halls were filled with our unaffected peers. I never felt a connection to that place more than when we would walk the dark and unnaturally empty hallways. The floors were shinier despite the brown speckled pattern chosen to hide typical high school scum. The lockers, though filled with the lives of lost minds, seemed not to give off the mysterious curiosity that filled them during the day. Instead they were blank, they were empty, and sometimes I imagined them filled with the contents of my locker alone. At night, everyone became like me. I was, in this scenario alone, the norm. It never fit and it never lasted, but I relished in it while I could.
Me and Krista ran up the stairs, laughing at this absurd and unlikely freedom. Both dressed in the black pants and white shirt uniform, we created a sense of unity with the band; but alone, we were only united with one another, flourishing in our mischief.
We always went to the empty second floor bathroom in corridor four. We’d climb atop the washroom stalls and spend our free time giggling about how I had only pretended to play my clarinet and how Krista’s mouth piece always had the remnant odour of whatever chips we had consumed that day.
Our time never lasted long, we knew we’d soon have to join the rest of the world. We’d have to go back to the reality that involved more than just us and our immaturity, but we stayed as long as we could in the world where we belonged exactly as we were.