Sacrifices

Sacrifices

“well that was an interesting assembly” my friend Parker said to me still in shock over the unfortunate events. He looked over at me as I was staring at my floral print black shoes and pulling the sleeves of my cardigan.

 “Are you ok?” he asked nervously

“Er yeah kind of...... I don’t know” i replied slowly.

“I really wish I could have helped more” I said beginning to tear up. Parker put his shaken hand on my shoulder and said. “You did all you could I think everyone wanted to help”

If you’re wondering what happened during this dark time, this is how it began. It was 8am and the corridors were silent, I go to school very early to do revision for my final exams. As i started to approach my locker I heard the sounds of a staple gun stapling a poster for a show that a group of 5th year boys were performing, on it there was just a boy in a long red cloak holding an old fashioned white candle. At the bottom of the poster in gold writing it just read “A Boy’s Sacrifice” It seemed very strange, I felt like I had seen the cloak and candles before. I edged back and carried on walking down the eerie blue corridor. Five minutes later after being settled with my nose in a book on technologies there was a toe tapping over and over

“Do you mind...? I’m trying to study,” I said beginning to get cross.

“Excuse me?” said the person’s voice. The voice was obviously female, it was a posh English accent and by the sound of it she wasn’t taking any more of my cheek. My green eyes slowly started to roll as I looked up to see that the person was Miss Calendar my ICT teacher.

“I’m so sorry Miss; I just really need to revise!” I cried out

“No I should apologise I just need a quick favour!” Miss Calendar replied. I looked up to see Miss Calendar holding a dark green box filled with dusty old books.

“Er sure...”

I took the box and had a peek at what the books were; there was nothing really exciting, just a book that said “Vampire” at the front.

“Where should I take these?” I asked groaning over the heaviness of the box.

“Just the basement,” My teacher said clapping her hands to get rid of the dust. I slowly nodded my head and began to walk to the basement. It was a bit of a struggle to get down the stairs. I watched my feet on every step. When I got to the bottom there was just a long black corridor with hardly any light, a quick chill as cold as ice went down my back as i went towards the oak wooden door. I was about to turn the handle but I hesitated but it was like my hand had a mind of its own. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. As I opened the door there was a loud creek and all there was in the basement was darkness, every time I took a step it felt like I was walking on broken glass and eggshells. My arms were beginning to ache. I stood in the middle of the basement, I felt like I was all on my own until a voice went “Why are you here?” It said. The voice was male. It was British and deep. I dropped the box of books as I gasped in fear. I felt like there was serious deep music playing as I turned around.

“Who’s there?” I asked, trying to get over the fact I wasn’t alone. I began to walk again to find out who is speaking to me. About ten steps into inspection I came across a huge pile of boxes but peeking round the edge of the bottom box was a black laced shoe, I tried to walk past but as I did a hand touched my shoulder, I turned around again to see a man in his thirties looking into my eyes “so I’m not alone then” the voice said. He sat down and offered me a seat but I couldn’t, my head said ‘don’t sit there, he is a bad man’. But my heart said ‘I’m sure he’s got good inside him’.