I know most stories don't start out this way, but this won't be like most stories. I walk into the boys bathroom to wash my hands after art class. I believe this was a Thursday, because I was alone in the bathroom. At my school, if you play an instrument in the school band, orchestra, jazz band, or string ensemble, you have to miss ten minutes of one of your classes, and fifty minutes of the one after that. I play the violin in the school's orchestra, and orchestra lessons are on Thursday. Normally, after art class, everybody rushes into the boys bathroom at the same time to wash their hands, but I had to leave class early for orchestra, hence I was alone.
The bathroom always gives me the creeps. It is near the elevator that is only used by the kids who are injured, so nobody really notices it's there. There aren't any classrooms around, so the teachers can't really hear anything that goes on in here. There are some bad things that are said and done in the boys bathroom. I, personally, get made fun of a lot, and don't like spending a lot of time in the bathroom. I have gotten physically injured in here, and after one of my closest friends who I trusted with my life had recently turned on me. He let all the secrets that I kept run wild. People loved hearing them. Most of them had twisted in some way, and people thought that I was a freak. The worst of these rumors were true. That's a story for another time, however.
The thing that creeped me out most about the bathroom were the windows. They were probably functioning windows, but nobody dared opening them. Yellow, old, crusty, whatever it was about them, gave me shivers down my spine. After washing my hands, I looked over to it, and saw that the bottom half of it was open. There was a different feeling I felt when I looked at it. Though not physically, it had changed. I wondered to myself how a window could change without physically changing, but was distracted by a small red spider spinning a web in the opening, and I loved spiders. I never have and never will feel the feeling I felt, being slowly drawn towards the spider. It was like my body was moving, but my mind didn't want it to. I needed to get to orchestra, but I couldn't stop any of my limbs from moving towards the little red spider that was relying on the window frame just as the actual glass was doing.
