Student of the Year

The young girl walked along the old cobblestone road, the light from the full moon highlighting the limestone buildings. She walked along in silence her eyes looking straight ahead, until it seemed out of nowhere that the old high school appeared. Walking through the front office the girl saw a picture of herself hanging on the wall. Above the picture it said “Student of the year- 1942” the name under the picture was burnt and unrecognisable. Every time the girl went to the school she hoped against hope that her burnt name would suddenly be remembered.



Realising she would get no hint of her past here, the girl moved onto the girls toilets. The walls were half crumbled and missing; wiping the dust and mould off the mirror using her handkerchief the girl looked at her reflection. Her golden honey curly hair had not a strand out of place under her hat, and her school uniform had not a crinkle in it as though it had been freshly ironed. Stepping out into the moonlight the girl looked across the yard to find broken down doors of the old library. Curious the girl pushed down the doors to find the inside of the library turned upside down. The shelves had been tipped over, the books littered the floor and there was glass everywhere. Beyond the girls eyesight, under all the books and glass there was a human skull. She bent to pick up a particular school yearbook. Flicking through it she found numerous pictures of people who were familiar to her but it had been so long that she had forgotten their names. There was a picture of her with a group of people; they were standing at the front of the school. The girl remembered there was a funny story to that day but that, like so many other things had perished from her memory.



Carefully stepping over the shelves the girl made her way to the back of the library where she saw a poster, on it was an old man sitting by a fire with his grandchildren on his knee. The speech bubble from his mouth said “I watched my friend’s die that day” Under the picture was writing that said ‘When you get old, wouldn’t you want to tell your grandchildren that you fought bravely for your country.’ There was something familiar about the poster that the girl couldn’t remember.



She walked out of the library and she climbed up what was left of the concrete stairs. There were no trees or plants as she walked. Where there was once a giant oak tree, there was now just an area of dirt. As the girl along the path to the science building, she slid her hand along the wooden rail. The wood broke and crumbled away under her light grip. As she walked into the science building there was immediately a sharp smell of something rotted. Covering her nose and mouth with her blazer, she made her way through the old rubble. Just as she was about to inspect a glass beaker, she saw something shiny from underneath the back door. Walking further into the room, the girl struggled over the desks and chairs,  she struggled to lift the door. As she threw the door off to the side she gasped at what was laying before her. A human body laid face down, on its wrist was a shining charm bracelet, with a shiny blue sparrow; this is what had caught her eye. Retching, the girl ran out of the room and back along the hallway. As she looked around, she saw that things were changing. The sun had come out even though it was a few minutes past midnight. The scattered remnants of the rail that had crumbled under her hand, flew up and joined together to reassemble the pole. The old oak tree now stood tall and proud, in the spot that only a moment ago was dirt and rubble. Panic began to bubble in her chest as she turned around and ran into one of the boys she used to go to school with. He payed no attention to her and kept running. All around her the people were appearing out of nowhere. She ran into one of her friends, who grabbed her shoulders and said “Hurry, we’ve got to get to the library, they’ll tell us what to do”

They ran to the library but just as she walked through the door, they heard one last word. “BOMB!” a huge explosion hit the main assembly area, the blast knocked down the rest of the buildings. For a couple of minutes the girl couldn’t hear anything. But when she could hear again, she wished she couldn’t.

Children like her lay under heavy rubble screaming for help. The girl tried to see but her vision was clouded by dust. She could smell the blood on her hands, a horrible, metallic smell. Her friend was still lying next to her but she was so quiet. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt her friends hand go limp and everything went quiet. The girl lay there waiting; hardly able to breathe she could feel the blood pulsing out of a gash on her forehead. Hours later, the girl was still very much alive, but wished she wasn’t, then she heard the faint sound of voices above her, she tried to call for help but couldn’t muster the strength. She saw the slightest hint of daylight and the hazy faces of her would be rescuers, but she heard death calling to her one more time and this time she didn’t try to fight it off and at last she let it claim her as it had claimed those other 456 people.



So once again, like so many other nights, the girl walked out of the school with unwanted memories and unnamed tragedies, cursed to return every full moon to the very high school where she held her last breath.