I wrote this in a five minute span at a writers workshop. We had to pick a piece of art from a book. Mine turned out to be a dark corridor with a single chair against a wall.
It's not great, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Just for practice.
The headmaster's office is a scary place thought Francis, sitting in the corridor. He was looking at his shoes moodily and swinging his legs back and forth.
He always managed to get into trouble on sunny days. Outside it was warm and clear but in the stillness of the corridor there was an icy chill.
He could see the others from his form playing in the yard through the window. Their excited shouts and giggles echoed down the gloomy corridor.
It wasn't even his fault. It had been Thomas whispering at the back of the classroom.
Stupid idiot, he thought, darkly.
A door creaked open somewhere. Francis looked in the direction of the sound but only saw dark moving shadows. Whoever had opened the door left the room noisily, letting it bang shut before clip clopping away to some unseen part of the old school.
How long was he going to have to wait? He checked the dusty yellowing wall clock. He'd only been here ten minutes. It felt much longer.
As he stared idly down the corridor into the murk, he became aware of a darkening of the light. Maybe a cloud had blotted the sun or maybe someone was just standing in front of one of the windows.
But was that it? Something told him it was not.