English

It was Tuesday 25th September 1996, I sat in my English class gazing out of the window, watching the crisp leaves of colours: scarlet and gold fall from the sky-scraping trees standing naked in the field, through the almost still air onto the grey concrete footpath. My attention suddenly turned onto the clock sat right above Mr Delches’ desk. The time read two-fifty six, only a few minutes until the lesson finished and my walk home was due. I looked down at my doodle filled page covered in drawings of different meanings and carried on with the last one I made. Oblivious to the time, the bell rang loudly, soon after, my ears filled with a loud whistling noise extreme in its high pitch. As everyone hurried their things together I slowly packed away my equipment knowing the huge rush out of the class would soon occur. The rest of the class scattered out of the classroom door like a huddle of rats running into a black bin filled with food. I stood up and made my way out of the classroom, on my own, and walked slowly down the corridor and then out of the exit door, right of the corridor. I stepped out onto the cold pavement, which looked as if it had been glazed with frosting, just like Mama Jones’ Victoria Sponge. As I walked along the dew-covered pavement, brown, crispy leaves whirled around in a circle like a small tornado sucking everything out of the ground and the sun shone brightly onto me like I was a child of God, I felt as if I was in heaven. The smell of leaves was something that always comforted me, the slow; fresh breeze of the air blew over my back and hair. I was happy.

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