Things of the old School

**halloween_sucks_in_the_uk** · 07-08-2011,01:12 AM

My Son wrote this when he was 12 (he's now 13) for an entry into a BBC 500 word story competition. He made it into the top 900 (first round) out of 30,000 + entries. He didn't win but I thought he did well and I'm proud of my little Fella whether he wins or loses. He loves writing and wants to be an author.

Things of the Old School

Tom slid open the dusty classroom door with his foot, he slid inside the musty room and quickly found himself in almost pure darkness. He fiddled with his torch, which let off a few pathetic ghosts of light, illuminating various things like a half-eaten and rotten apple lying on the abandoned teacher’s desk. Tom was thirteen, and even though he was as tough as nails, he felt extremely frightened by the entire school suddenly ageing around fifty years, taking all the students with it.
The thing that scared him the most was the fact that he remained thirteen and had not vanished. He scratched his head as the torch finally worked, spewing light all over the room. He glanced around at the cracked and vine-covered walls, the rotten desks filled with maggots, and the destroyed old blackboard, which had been new yesterday. He wondered what he’d tell Mum.
Hey Mum, today when I went to school everybody vanished and the school aged fifty years.
His Mum was not the kind of person who liked jokes; she was a businesswoman, and a serious one at that. Tom sniffed the air, which still smelt of the cheap cigarettes Robert smoked in the back of the classroom when the teacher was away. There was a thunderous crash behind Tom, he whirled around with the torch in his hand, but it was just the shelf, which had finally broken after an extra fifty years of hardship and abuse. He stumbled towards the teacher’s desk once more and shone the torch behind it.
He’d expected to find the skeleton of his evil teacher lying there, but was disappointed by the anti-climax; he turned around and crept towards his desk, packing his back with all the things that remained usable. He headed out of the deserted classroom and into the corridor, then towards the hall.
The hall was infested with moss and vines, a tree had begun to grow in the centre of it, Tom shone the torch around, aiming at cracked floorboards and destroyed walls. He scratched his chin, once again musing about the situation.
Why, of all people, did they let me stay? It’s not as if I even get good grades.
He thought about this for a while, pushing away any nasty thoughts that entered his almost empty cranium.
Behind him sounded an ear-piercing scream, and as Tom turned, something leapt on him.
It was made up of flashing talons and foot-long teeth, with six legs and twenty eyes. It had a scorpion’s tail which struck at Tom, attempting to impale him with its deadly sting. Tom shrieked and rolled aside, pushing himself up and sprinting away, but the hall was covered with those things. He ran and ran, into the corridors, towards the open front door and out into the light.