As clouds drift meticulously through the expansive bright blue sky, I stare out the window of a desolate classroom. Nothing striking being said, nothing fascinating being taught. Led by a teacher wishing his hair wasn’t thinning as much as it is, holding onto the idea of a more concrete and exciting career crossing his path in the near future. I tap my fingers against my desk to the usual rhythm and tune. It's a normal, perfect day.

 Every student's eyes are glued to the chiming clock instead of the teacher's delicately written, yet dastardly presented, whiteboard with “thought-provoking” statements. It's apparent that as the lunch period nears closer, the students and teachers alike lose interest in the material provided and hope for a break on the mind and wrists.

Assuredly the bell tolls and a horde of sleepless faces spring toward the lunch room for a small break from their studies. A 40-minute break, short in practice but enough to fulfill my daily duties needed to clear my mind and focus on the rest of my afternoon. As usual, I meet the group of like-minded folk I call friends and head towards our constant spot to enjoy lunch. Right on cue, we sit around in the order assigned to us by habit. Everything is constant. Peace fills my body as everyone goes to their common talking points and subjects. 

Twenty graceful minutes of quick yet intriguing conversation occur until I head for the restroom. It's the perfect timing as I’ve had interesting discussions and now get a moment to myself before reengaging. It's the habitual time frame I provide myself every time, creating the perfect routine. 

As I clear the way toward the second-floor restroom to use the second stall with the only working lock, my mind spins to the frightening idea of the stall being taken. Ultimately throwing my schedule into complete chaos. Such a situation nearly stifles my journey but I continue my arduous travels thinking through every possible scene I expect to run into. If the second stall is being used what's the safest option?  Do I wait and risk losing conversational time? Or do I enter one of the other unruly stalls without a lock and risk an embarrassing encounter? I must hope this unfortunate situation goes in my favour without that awful decision to make.

The creaking door of the second-floor restroom swings with a dreadful lull, yet the room is empty. The second stall is open and ripe for the taking, why does this feeling of danger loom like a snake in the grass? This feeling makes me cautious but I head toward the second stall of the second-floor restroom not wanting to waste my precious time. As I walk across the horridly cracked and uneven floor and enter the dilapidated chamber with the only working lock I notice the light above the stall is flickering. It's flickering absent of a rhythm.

Flick, flick… flick… flick, flick, flick. It’s aggravating, disorderly, and inconvenient. With a faint hum the surrounding lights illuminating the room flicker to different unrhythmic hums. The chaos spewing from the ungodly lights fills me with more dread than I could have ever imagined. As my mind races away from the idea of finishing my restroom activities or even skipping them and throwing myself out of the room, everything starts to spin. A slithering dark purple aura roars from the floor's uneven cracks, consuming everything in the vicinity.

What happened? Has my fate spiraled down an unforgiving path? This isn’t fair! Every day I use this same stall at the same time. Why?

Through my contemplation, I realize the lavatory was transformed into a barren wasteland of ashy ground and dark purple skies spread across the visible plan. The idea of the stall being taken feels like a beautiful occurrence now. With this blank distant land I find myself in, I will definitely miss conversational time. The ash-laced ground is dirty, the sky is otherworldly while unnatural. As my near tearful eyes analyze the spectral plain I unwillingly find myself in more I notice a faint skeletal figure approaching from ash fields.

The horrors of this unfamiliar place are growing. How does this happen? Why does it happen to me? As if time has vanished, the shadow of the approaching figure looms over me. What my eyes meet with is astonishing and terrifying.

It’s a horribly tall, thin figure barely wide enough to hold the rest of it up. Its body is draped in an ashed cloth which looks to be more ancient than the creature itself. Its face, God, its face. It has a humanoid appearance yet it's aged, dried up and uneven. Covered with ancient wrinkles and eyes caved in, barely visible even at such a close range. I didn’t even notice that, just like the ground surrounding me, the creature seems to be made of ash. I’ve had my perfect orderly life ripped away from me. Everything has fallen out of control and created a foreign, revolting fear that rests deep within me. My legs give up causing me to collapse to the floor in anguish. Tears roll from my eyes, disappearing into the ash ground. I don’t even acknowledge my hands and knees sinking into ash. Nothing seems to matter, this hellish prison of sorrow and ash is consuming my brain. If only I could be in my familiar class, with familiar faces and tasks. This change thrust upon me is unwelcome and revolting.

“A land of nothing but dread and terror, that is what you’ve been met with. No God will hear your wailing. A fate worse than any,” the creature affirms with a raspy hoarse voice. Like it hasn’t spoken in decades.

This chilling statement hits me with such strength that I entirely collapse, with my face and stomach touching the coarse terrible ground. As I feel my mind fully succumb to madness I notice the ash has started to absorb me. 

My fate sealed, my life gone…

 I give in.