Murmur

By Cora Lea

I tiptoe down the long dark hall, trying not to wake the others.

The long hallways are like a maze, 

                                                          W 

                                                               I

                                                                   N

                                                                      D

                                                                     I

                                                                N

                                                           G          the way to the end.
I continue walking, deciding if this is the right decision.

Probably not, but no turning back now I guess. 

I watch as an old ratted book slides down the slanted floors, and the crooked beams are

 creaking like they would in a horror movie.       

I try to take each step as quietly as possible.

It takes me what seems like forever to get to the bottom of the stairs. 

When I do, I snatch my jacket and pause before I exit the door.

“Carpe diem,” I say to myself, “seize the day.” 

And then I run. As hard as I possibly can. 

My eyes burn and my bare feet are being slit and cut on the rocks.