Minutes to Midnight. (discontinued)

Chapter 1.

rain began to patter at the window, but the gentle rain was only noticeable for a moment, because a heavy shower hammered the very spots those gentle drops had been. the dorm was quiet--lectures had started--and only the odd geek sat in the library studying.

pat pat pat pat... sneakers made their way down the marble and stone hall, towards the History lecture halls. all the other students had other lectures, and war history was the only lecture scheduled on a tuesday--once in the morning, and once at three in the afternoon. it was two-thirty. the sneakered student carried a light messenger bag from American eagle--a simple tan colored weave rimmed with sturdy leather--with four standard notebooks and two thick textbooks. she looked incredibly bored, dressed in; thick socks, slightly baggy blue jeans, a long t-shirt, medium thick brown hoodie, a holy knit gray scarf and a pair of simple black gloves. clearly un-preoccupied with her appearance--and underdressed for the outside weather of moscow--anyone could guess she didn't spend much time anywhere else.

(Audrie's POV)

i sighed, there wasn't much to do. id spent the last four and a half hours since the morning lecture in the library, there wasn't anything to do besides read, wait, stroll, or walk backwards to waste time. i preferred the morning lecture--not many people were able to attend or wake up for the eight'o'clock lecture-- so i had a good quiet and easy time to take notes. i only attended the three'o'clock lecture to waste time.

my schedule had a grand total of ten lectures each week. two english literature lectures a week, one monday morning at seven, another on thursday at two. two war history lectures a week--the second is voluntary, since both lectures are the same--one tuesday morning at eight, and the second at three. finally, one Art theory and history lecture on wednesday at twelve, and art practice sessions starting at seven in the morning--thursday and fridays-- and going on as long as any artist wants until eleven at night the same day. my four standard notebooks were used only when i really needed them, one for art, one for history and one for english. the last notebook was my journal--which i wrote in every single day. I'd had a journal since i was three and learned to write--mom encouraged development of my early skills with books, texts and language.

the rain shower started to let up on the thick windowpanes, the noise against the roof tiles quietened. it was coming up to october, and i was expecting snow anyday now, hail was coming and going more as it was.

i checked my watch, 2:51. the other lectures had been over for about five to fifteen minutes now, and i could already start to hear rushing students. i pushed off from the window pane i had been leaning on, and i pushed open the large doors of the lecture hall, and i strolled down a few rows to find my usual seat level with a view out one of the stained-glass windows--incase i got daydreaming.

the mahogany desks and seats were cold, so when i sat down it sent a familiar chill up my spine. i huddled further into my hoodie and wrapped my scarf a little tighter around my neck and face. i knew that the heater wouldn't be turned on till the lecturer arrived in the next few minutes, and then the heater wouldn't start heating--it was old--for another few minutes, then the room was so big that it would take a good ten minutes to become close to body temperature. i didn't have hope in the heater. but then again, i did like the cold--not the overbearing frostbite kind--but the general chill. the other students started to shuffle in like hungry rodents. some had stacks of books and stuffed bags to haul through the rows, i was surprised they didn't drop things left and right

"good morning, welcome to War History." the lecturer drew attention in a pretentious accent, "today i will speak about the strategic and inspiring moves of Napoleon Bonaparte."