Signs in the Dark

Breath. You have to breathe to make it through the second. Through the minute. Through the hour. Through the day. Through the week. Through the month. Through the year. Through your lifetime.

                             Just.

                                                          Breathe.

                                                          ********

As soon as I step foot into the hallway, I’m pushed into the mob of people headed for the breakfast line.

Where's Ms. Hall? 

Why are the lights off in the office?

Since when has the school smelled of mildew?

As everyone gets in line, I take a sharp turn toward my locker. Toward the thumping vibrations of the band room, making the air quiver from the beat of the bass drum. My hand reaches for my locker when a familiar blue and purple Nike catches in my peripheral vision. 

“Hey, Haven!” My friend Nallia signs from her locker. 

“Do you know why the office looks dark?” I sign back.

“I’m not really sure.” She signs as she turns to head up the stairs. “Well, I better get to Homeroom!” 

Great, I’m all alone, in what seems like a deserted school. 

Cue the spooky music. 

The uneven texture of the wall meets my hand as I absentmindedly run the pads of my fingers against the cream colored bricks. 

Heading to the girls bathroom, my feet start padding down the hall, which is eerily full of kids. The texture of the wall changes suddenly when my hand runs over a closed door. 

Wait. A closed door? 

My heartbeat quickens as I turn toward the door. 

The janitor's door is usually open. Why is it closed?

My hand reaches for the doorknob. 

It’s locked.

The only thing streaming under the door is shadows of darkness. No light on either.

The hallway feels eerily still as I turn back the way I came, my hand reaching to my back pocket. 

Shit.

The battery was fully charged when I got out of the car. As my hands fumble for the power button I feel a faint tap on my right shoulder.

“Nallia!” I sign before pulling her into a hug. “You scared me.” 

“My phone was just fully charged,” I start to sign.

“So was mine.” Nallia interrupts. “Nothing electronic is working.”

“Where is everyone?” I sign quickly.

“Panicking, in the lunchroom. Come on, let's go grab something.” She responds, grabbing my hand.

“You get me something!” I sign before I rush toward the main lobby. My feet vibrating the ground, crunching on broken glass. 

Broken glass.

There is broken glass everywhere.

I look up. The doors and windows are perfectly intact. But the glass on the floor suggests that kids broke the windows. 

Where are the smashed windows?

Where are the staff? 

How will we get out? 

Questions flood my mind, crashing into each other and breaking apart. 

My head swims as my imagination makes a terrifying thought with those broken pieces.