Tick. Tick. Tick. Goes the sterilized metal clock hanging by a rusty nail from the poorly plastered wall. It's hollow, metallic ring resonated through my empty scull demolishing any thought beginning to swell forth. The smell of old rug mixed with the stench of various perfumes fill the sale air. Some kid across the room sniffles. Tick. Tick. Tick. Above the constant dull monotony of the room clock a teacher speaks in a drone. Words spill forth like water from a faucet. Constant. Drip. The blank dirty white walls seem to swallow the room. Slowly sucking it up till there is nothing left but peeling paint and crooked staples. Tick. Tick. Tick. The room slowly fades to black. Flashing once before disappearing behind a black curtain. Black.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
I wrote this during English. I liked the idea of describing a extremely boring scene in detail. The idea Of falling asleep came from running out of time. I also like how it is sort of ambiguous about if the person died or not. And if you don't like it go away because this is my blog and I wanted to do a micro story. Haha. Like the Internet actually cares.
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