|| Entry Two: By - Me ||

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School; the word doesn't necessarily spark up much liveliness in someone. In fact, the word 'school' does the exact opposite. I was tired when I arrived at school later than usual, but something seemed way more off than usual. Everyone looked restless and jumpy, looking behind their shoulder every few second and up to the heavens. Was I not informed of something? Perhaps there was a big test everyone was stressed about?

Surely someone cannot be that anxious over a test; and even if they were, everyone would be huddled in groups with their schoolbooks, getting last-minute studying in. No, something bigger was brewing, but no-one bothered to stick around long enough to answer my questions.

Suddenly an alarm sounded.

I flinched; the sound was hurting my ears. Everyone started screaming and running into classrooms, yelling things like 'now is the time' or 'it is happening!'

I felt overwhelmed by the amount of distressing teens. I wanted to swoop in one of the nearby classrooms, but the students were barricading the doors; like I was invisible or something. I cursed and looked at my surroundings. I had somehow ended up in the grade four/five passageway of my school. Now, I was bamboozled.

Some people peeped through the small glass window on the behind the classroom doors, either flashing me a sympathetic or worrisome glance. I caught some familiar faces of those in my year group, but I couldn't return the smile. I was curious – nobody had told me anything about today's happenings.

The intercoms around the school all went off at the same time. Hold on – only my year group was present, yet we were crammed in the intermediate section of the school. I was bursting with questions, but my thoughts were paused when a voice boomed from the intercom.

"Greetings, this is your principal speaking," said a feminine voice. More confusion overcame me yet again; our principal was male! I cried out in frustration and stomped my foot, causing a few concerned glances from people hiding behind the door of the classroom nearest to me, "It has come to my attention that someone spilled the beans on the plans of the staff here. And now you have foolishly locked yourselves in a classroom. That will not lighten the effects," effects? Effects of what, exactly?

"After I have finished speaking, the gas will be released not only in our primary school, but schools all over the country," now I was completely out of it. What was so revolutionary that every single school in South Africa had to partake in? And what was this nonsense about a gas? "Do not be alarmed children. It will be quick and painless, and you will live in your dream world forever while your physical self will become our mindless slaves. And then we will become the most educated and disciplined country in the world."

Although I was still confused, I now knew what was going down. The intercom beeped, indicating the principal's speech was over. This gas was going to make as the perfect student... are the teachers really that desperate for excellence? Fog machines had suddenly sprouted from the hiding place behind the bricks of the corridor and in classrooms. I sucked in my breath.

I had to run.

My feet pounded across the corridor. The lights started to flicker, occasionally making me lose track of where I was running to. I turned my head to the left to see my grade three teacher's classroom occupied by my best friend. Her and a few others had collapsed simultaneously. Tears starting prickling in my eyes, but I kept my gaze forward; I had one goal only – exit the school.

Now I was running down the staircase. The pink and blue fog was swimming in front of me, almost luring me to inhale it. I shook my head, feeling my breath lessen with each moving step. I reached the end of the stairway and sharply turned to the open door to the left. The teachers were really dumb for leaving those open, thinking that everyone locked themselves in a classroom. It seemed I wasn't the only one.

(This are not names of people at my old school; I've changed their names to keep the identity hidden.)

My close friend Natasha, my arch rival Timothy and one of music group friends, Anastasia, were all panting for breath.

"Kawaii!" Natasha called excitedly, pinning me in her bear-hug. I almost sobbed into her shoulder. I was so glad some people managed to escape that... whatever that was. But some of my close friends were lost to the gas.

"Tell me, that gas," I asked, "is it irreversible?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but we'll figure something out," Timothy said, scratching his chin. He smirked, "This is like some zombie apocalypse. The four of us have to find a cure in order to restore normality."

"Stop them!" that sounded like the principal. We turned to see her exiting a door on the far end of the quad, with staff members carrying gas suits, holding up portable fog machines.

"Shit," cursed Anastasia, cradling her twisted ankle, "how am I supposed to run-"

She was cut mid speech as I hastily picked her up in a bridal fashion and cradled her close to me. And we sprinted.

(A/N: Do you want a continuation of this?)

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Hi there! It's Kawaii! Tell me your opinion of this descriptive essay below. What would you rate it out of ten? Where should I improve to make sure my career in writing is an absolute success? Please do tell <3.

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◇2017-12-16◇

IADRIENETTEI © 2017

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