Ebony Wings

3

~Ali~

I stand in the another reception area within the original part of the old, stone building amongst a small cluster of equally tense new students. The nervous energy seems to tighten the air, stringing each molecule impossibly closer together until the tension is almost palpable. A few students are brave enough to start up conversations with the people around them and they settle together in loose, awkward clusters.

The rest resort to rocking on our heels and obsessively checking our empty phone screens, passing a few tight-lipped smiles when eye contact is accidentally initiated. I am not proud that I fall into the latter category of students.

A pair of heels click curtly along the flagstone floor and a woman, probably in her mid-fifties, enters the hallway with a stony face and an elegant posture. A black clipboard is tucked under one arm and a pen is balanced between two bony fingers. She has a deep set of wrinkles etched on her forehead like a roadmap and a jaw length, yellow-blonde bob with her silvery roots starting to show in the artificial light. She tugs on the corner of her precisely pressed black blazer and speaks with a cool, methodical tone.

"Welcome to the University of Barmouth. My name is Mrs Killoran and I am one of the overseers to our academic program here. The founder of the University, Mr Canbury, sends his apologies for being unable to hold this introduction for you today. In his absence I will conducting the tour today and answering any further questions you may have." Her eyes have not blinked once throughout her terse speech, I realise unsettlingly. Without warning, she pivots on her stiletto heels and walks briskly out of the double doors, leaving us to hurry after her.

From the reception we fall outside into the over-cast afternoon, a small breeze rustling the hedges around us. We walk at a speedy pace along the criss-crossing paths that bridge all the buildings together and Mrs Killoran does not seem to concern herself by checking if we are following.

Our first point of interest in the tour is the chapel - a beautiful limestone structure seamlessly carved from what seems to be a single slab of stone. High ceilings and enormous stained glass windows spill shadows of colour over the lawn as the sun cuts through the biblical depictions. The edges of the limestone carvings have softened with age and two heavy oak doors guard the entrance. Mrs Killoran tugs on the coiled, brass handle and the door swings open.

Her speech about the chapel is brief - a quick mention about optional attendance to the Sunday services and a limited insight into its long history. The rest of the tour follows a similar, hasty pattern across the campus. We pass buildings, momentarily stop inside some of the lecture halls and then continue to the library, sports centre, cafe and other notable structures. The whole ordeal is a little like whiplash.

As the short and uninformative guide draws to a close, we loop our way back towards reception and the dormitories. Trudging along happily at the rear of the group, I take my time heading back, happy to allow the others to disappear in front of me. I absorb the campus in my own time and mentally retrace back over the tour, constructing a rough map in my head of everything I can remember.

I cross into the front courtyard and the old willow tree swings into view at the outer boundary, its long branches sweeping against the grass. The soft curtains beckon me, the silky strands almost sighing my name as they tease the ground. I take a moment to consider then I step off the path and jog towards the willow, my shoes sinking guiltily into the well kept lawn. I part the silky curtain of foliage, peer over my shoulder and slip inside.

I swing my backpack off my shoulder and let it roll across the floor, flattening the overgrown grasses inside. I take a seat on the weathered bench and absentmindedly finger a pillow of moss sprouting next to my thigh as I sweep my gaze around the canopy. The willow's leaves cause the sun light to cast a bright green halo in the shadow of the tree, tinting everything under the canopy celery green. The ends of the leaves tickle the earth all around creating a mushroom shaped dome, shielding everything within from the rest of campus like its own private room.