The College with no doors.

A loud, high pitched siren flooded the area where I was working. It was that loud, I could hear it despite having my earphones wedged tightly in my ears, trying to drown out the thoughtless chatter of those few working around me.

I yanked one earphone out, slightly startled by the volume. The hollow studio area caused the noise to echo, prolonging the annoying sound. In the paint studio, which was what I was studying in college, the walls that separated each individual space didn't reach as high as the ceiling, so it meant that someone making noise in one area, was annoying the quiet person in the next. I suppose if everyone's space was a separate room with a functioning door, we would all die from paint fumes. It wouldn't look very good on the college.

I don't think the college could afford doors anyway. It was only last week, two months into our second year when we actually got a table and chair we could call our own. Before that, some sat on make shift chairs using wooden crates and rusty nails. I and a few others brought in bean bags and cushions, though we never sat down when painting.

The alarm was still screaming, but one of the guys on my course emerged from his space into the narrow walkway created by the thin walls, and attempted to speak over it. His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear what he was trying to say. When he stopped he smiled. I felt awkward just standing there, so I smiled back and pointed at my ears to let him know I couldn't hear anything. At that moment the alarm stopped, but I was still pointing and standing in silence.

He smiled again, but this time it was because I looked demented. For the life of me I couldn't remember his name, so structured my sentences careful enough that I wouldn't have to use it.

'Do you know what that was?' I lowered my hands and tried to look normal again.

'I was just coming over to tell you that in a half an hour we get kicked out. College is closing.'

'Oh thanks' I blushed. I didn't know why. 'Do you know what time it is?'

I was wearing a watch, which he noticed. It was broken though, and I hadn't remembered to put in a new battery. So I stood there, waiting for him to check his watch, which I noticed was actually ticking. His eyes shot down to my wrist, and then to his.

'It's half eight' he smiled.

'That late?! Wow, time flies when you're under pressure.' I joked, and he forced a huff. I remembered that I hadn't figured out his humour yet. That was how I felt I could get on with people, through jokes. I usually had to suss out someone's sense of humour first, but I couldn't get my head around his. I didn't really talk to him much anyway, so I wasn't that bothered to find out what made him laugh.

He slapped his thighs, something the boys around here did to try rescue an awkward situation, but this one was a write off.

'So, I'll see you tomorrow then?' I felt I had to be the one to dismiss him. He was one of those people who didn't know how to exit a conversation, so instead of just walking away, he would have stayed in silence.

He looked relieved. I didn't think I was that bad a company, but I was too tired to care.

'Yep, don't forget to get your wooden board' his voice echoed as he walked back into his space. He didn't have much stuff to bring home, so he was gone before I had even started packing up.

I threw my paint palate and brushes in the sink, which we were forbidden to do. I would wash them in the morning, so it wasn't that big a deal. I shoved my laptop, pencil case, and tubes of paint into my bag, and threw on my coat as I was walking out.

I walked past my friend Darcy's space to see if she was in, but it was empty. Darcy was probably my best friend in the college, not that I had many to choose from. I had only known her a year and a half, but it felt like we had spent our whole childhood together. We knew each other's habits, likes and dislikes, even lunch routines. She wasn't like the other people in the college. She laughed at how seriously forgetful I was, but was always there to remind me what I needed to do, or more catch up on. Though she had a constant seriousness about her, the seldom laughs we did have together were loud and long. Coming into college not knowing anyone at all, I couldn't have asked for a better friend.

Anyway, moving away from the sappy stuff.

I had to go get a wooden mounting board from the neighbouring sculpture department, and I had to buy it off one of the technicians. After no luck checking the office, I found someone at the workshop. The one who was on duty this late was an old, bald Scottish man who had a sort of hump back, with very protruding shoulder blades. His grey T-Shirt did nothing for his skinny frame, which made him look frail and timid. In my mind, I seen these attributes as making him approachable. I probably should have known his name, but at that time it escaped me.

The blades of the intimidating saws lay dormant, and their shadows cast unnerving shapes on the concrete walls. I knocked and he invited me in, still facing his workshop. When he turned to look at me, he changed. He wasn't the frail little man I had seen before. His expression had become menacing, and sinister grin spread across his wrinkly face. He turned more to reveal an industrial blade nestled in his weathered hand, covered in sawdust. Not a very inviting stance.

'I was told you had some thin boards of wood for sale?' I asked, trying to ignore his narrowed eyes glaring at me. I decided to keep my distance and remained at the door. He didn't look so approachable now.

'I knew you were here' his voice was hushed, ominous. Someone must have told him I was looking for the board. I subtly looked around but there was no sign of them. Maybe he had them in the back.

'Yeah, I think a couple of us in paint need them for tomorrow. Our tutor said we could buy them off you, if that's ok? If you don't have them I can come back' I was talking because I wanted the boards, but also because the silence was becoming increasingly unsettling.

He remained frozen in position, the only movement was the skin on his knuckles stretching across the bone as he increased his grip on the tool. There was something strange about his eyes, though the lighting was dim. I squinted, and as I did his eye colour changed. They became, darker. I didn't know if that was a wonder of the human body that only a select few are lucky or weird enough, to possess. I was fascinated, ignoring my manners and continuing to stare.

Then, he shifted his balance from his left leg to his right, like he was about to take a step. Before his foot left the floor, a hand grasped my shoulder from behind, causing me to jolt and break the trance I hadn't realised I was in. I swung my head around to see who it was. At that time, my reflexes wouldn't have saved me from a potential threat, because before I could fully rotate, Darcy appeared in front of me.

'God, Darcy, you scared the hell out of me!! What the hell?! I thought you had left hours ago?! What are you doing here?!' I whispered loudly, conscious that the technician was still there, although he stopped moving again.

Darcy quickly glanced at the technician and then turned fully to face me.

'I could ask you the same question! Come on, are you going home now?' as she asked she began to move away from the door and into the corridor, gesturing for me to do the same. I moved slightly out of the door frame, on the same side as Darcy, but stopped.

'I was getting the board we need for tomorrow. You don't have one either, I can get you one'.

As I began to move toward the door again, Darcy moved slightly in front of me, again.

'I have two at home, I'll bring them in and you can have one. Come on, let's go', through her body language she seemed adamant that we move from the workshop area.

I took one last look at the technician, who had since dropped his tool and remained in place, but was glaring at me with even more intensity. I noticed his eyes had become lighter, and back to their original colour.

'We can just get some tomorrow, thanks' I lied as I was walking away with Darcy. Even if I didn't get a board, I probably wouldn't have gone back to him. Something about him gave me serious goose bumps.

Darcy and I walked passed the security guard, who looked less than enthusiastic about drawing the short straw for night duty, but a lot less dangerous. We said goodnight and headed out.

'Why are you back here so late? You left ages ago!' I asked Darcy as we walked up the outdoor steps to the concourse.

She thought for a minute. 'I left my laptop in my locker'. One quick statement, and her head dropped to the ground.

I intentionally looked at her with narrow eyes, and an overly sarcastic 'Mmhm'.

She glanced at me, and began to divulge some reason why she was in the college at the time. I was joking, but she obviously didn't find it very funny.

'I'm joking, I'm joking! Relax child'. Though I had forced a laugh, she didn't even smirk. I wanted to talk about the technician.

'Did you see your man's eyes back there? Maybe I'm seeing things' I joked half-heartedly 'but I'm pretty sure they were nearly black! But not like contacts, they were turning darker as I was standing there! He was so creepy, I am not going back to him again'. I chopped the air in front of my, imitating one of the girls exaggerated movements earlier today. Darcy didn't even flinch. We always joked about the people in our year, but I guessed she wasn't in the mood. When I dropped my head to her level, and looked at her expression, she looked almost guilty. I dropped the subject. I was often in a foul humour, so I know what it's like when someone is annoying you and you want to hit them. Really hard.

We had slowed our pace till we reached the back end of the college, and shortcut I always took that led me straight to my bus stop. Darcy usually went through the arch at the front of the college to walk to her stop. Eventually we stopped.

'Are you okay?' I didn't like asking anyone that, because I know if they aren't, they don't like being asked that. If they are ok usually they would get paranoid thinking they were giving of that 'vibe'. I only asked because I really couldn't tell if she was or not. She didn't exactly perk up, but lifted her head and forced smile.

'Yeah, I'm fine' she managed. It sounded like a lie, but I didn't want to push it.

'Ok, well then I will see you bright and early in the morning. Tomorrow could be D-day'.

She looked puzzled.

'D-day! You know, the day where I ACTUALLY might be earlier than you. Watch your back Quinn!' I joked.

She forced another smile, then her face turned serious.

'Do you want me to walk down with you to the bus stop? You know a tutor was almost robbed at the back the other night. It's pretty dark out now' her attention was now focused on my answer, less sulky.

'No, it's grand. Thanks. I have my umbrella, and I'm not afraid to use it.' Again, another frosty reception of my humour.

She was going to contend my decision, but in the end replied with 'Ok, talk to you tomorrow'. With that she turned, and disappeared around the main building.

I'm happy to say there was no attempted robbery that night, and when I reached the bus stop, my dad rang me to tell me he was picking me up. I watched two buses pull up and leave before a bright blue Renault overshot the bus stop, and my dad flashed the hazards twice to let me know it was him. It's not like I didn't know my own car, but he did it anyway.

The ride home was quiet, mainly because until I sat in the card I hadn't realised how tired I was. My dad and I were similar that way. We never felt the need to fill the silence with trivial conversation about the state of the Irish government, or the state of the Irish weather, or the state of Ireland in general. There was a sea of calm between us.

When I got home there was nothing out of the ordinary. My mam had kept me a plate of dinner. I dreaded the smell of curry powder and boiled potatoes, because it meant they had soup. I hated soup, probably because I was at that stage in my life where I could chew my food unaided by a blender or instructional mouth movements. I think every 19 year old should be confident enough to eat solids. Though I moaned, mentally, I always appreciated having a hot meal when I come home from a long day at college. Luckily, all I could smell was tomatoes and melted cheese, which meant either cheese pasta or spaghetti. In case you hadn't realised, food meant a lot to me. I wasn't heavy or overweight, just slim enough to enjoy a big dinner guilt free.

When I retired to my room, I lay in bed. I began to think about the technician. I was second guessing myself, doubting what I had seen. No one's eyes could actually become darker. It must have been the way the shadows hit him. It had to have been. You can only change your eye colour with contacts. But he would have had to put them in, and I didn't see him put them in. Then again I could have missed it... No, his eyes didn't change colour, they stayed the same, you are crazy, you are tired, and stressed, and you were hungry at the time, and you know what your memory is like, head like a sieve... I had narrowly convinced myself that I hadn't seen anything, then I thought of Darcy. I had seen her in a bad mood before, but this was different. Almost like she was annoyed, but not at me. At herself. She looked almost guilty, but what was she guilty about? I wonder if she had seen what I seen, although when I mentioned it to her, her response was, well, she didn't give one. So I was probably seeing things.

I could ask her about it tomorrow anyway.