The Water (on hold D= )

The Water

Hey everyone who reads,

Thank you so much for taking time to read this. I really hope you enjoy it. If there's anything that you see that you think i should fix, please comment and tell me how i can fix it and make it better? If you think it is good enough, I'd also really appreciate it if you'd vote. Well, this is the last you'll hear from me. Enjoy. =D

~JB

Justine Baxter was the normal seventeen-year-old girl. She had blond hair, which was down to the lower cleft of her lower back. It would look like the sun’s rays were coming alive in her hair as it would shift and shimmer in the autumn breeze. Her eyes were blue, plain and simple, but were deep and caring. She was, as many would often say, short. She wore a plain black zip-up jacket and pale, worn out bell bottom jeans with black slip-ons.

As she stepped out of the car, she turned her eyes upward. The buildings were beautiful. They had a Victorian look to them and they were all a brownish brick color. The windows were four panel and the walls had long green vines, which twisted up the side of the building, spelling words, creating pictures, and cradling the gruff walls beneath them. Much of the vines were very browned and starting to die and crackle away with the fall breeze.

On the other side of the car stepped Breanne Westley, Brae for short. Behind Justine was Margret McCloud. She was often called Maggs for short. Brae looked at the buildings through her trendy, square rimmed glasses and then at the other two saying, “This place gives me the creeps!”

Maggs and Justine just smiled. The three girls grabbed their bags and headed in to the buildings. They stopped by the office and grabbed a map to the vast campus after they were told where their room was going to be. As the three girls looked at the map, they bickered lightly in confusion as to where they should be going.

“No, obviously we should be going that way,” Brea said pointing to a sidewalk which went to their right.

“No, that way,” Maggs said pointing to the sidewalk to the opposite direction, a finger on the map of the building where they needed to be, “ if we need to get there we should just go this way.”

Justine just stood back and allowed the two to talk it out. As she had a differing view of the map from them, she already knew where to go; however, after the long years of knowing the two, Justine knew better than to interfere with their ‘conversations’.

It had been over ten minutes and Justine was sick of this now, she knew where to go, and would leave. She could come back for them later. As she walked away from the two, she went straight ahead and then took her first right. There it was, Shipwreck Hall, though for the life of her, Justine couldn’t figure out why it would be called such a thing.

She opened the door and stepped in. The hall was a snug width and had beautiful white marble on the floors. The expected echoes were tamped out be burgundy-carpeted walls that had a light, golden wood chair rail about two-thirds way up the sides of the wall.

Room 510, Justine mentally reminded herself as she walked through the hall looking at the room numbers to her right, as they were the evens. She had walked for about five minutes when she came to a doorway. She was looking at the room number at the time, but, as soon as she turned her head, her jaw dropped.

I know why it’s called Shipwreck Hall now…

Justine saw a giant water tank: it had to be at least one hundred feet deep, fifty yards it width, and two hundred yards long. The tank was an oval shape and encompassed the whole center of the dorm hall. The walls and rooms of the building forked here and the even numbers stayed to her right as the odd numbers went to her left. There were lights posted to the walls, dim as they were, due to the luminescent, shifting light produced by the tank lights, which were modeled after old English street lights. The interior of the room still retained the white marble flooring, but the walls looked like they were encrusted in stone from the alleys and outer walls of the buildings she would expect to see in the older parts of London or Paris. The water tank, built with all integrity in mind, had sections of metal with smooth shapes and figures etched into its surface. Each metal section was over four yards in length, as to support the walls of the tank even better. There were no windows in the room, but the water lights gave the hall a mood of mystery and apprehension, along with a feeling of calm that she seldom encountered.