Not Knowing What To Expect…

I have never entered a tomb. I would not know how to feel about disturbing the silence that has grown around those dead that have been placed there to slowly turn to hardened matter. I had now expectations as to what was likely to await me but I was fairly certain that nothing that was trapped within the confines of Sandham would be good. 

Expectations:

  1. a strong belief that something will happen or be the case;
  2. a belief that someone will or should achieve something;
  3. ones prospects of inheritance.

Mathematically speaking:

a predicted value of a variable, calculated as the sum of all possible values each multiplied by the probability of its occurrence.

Maths was never my thing in that way that it was the thing for other boys. They would have seized upon this and run off into some abstract path towards understanding. My ‘special’ talent was concerned with trying to create something that had an understandable meaning, Something that provided a mast to cling to when the storm was too fierce. I didn’t know why I was there and I didn’t understand what I had to do to get out of there, or if I really wanted to get out of there, but I did know that there was something that I was missing and it was very big indeed.

I pushed the door open and it did not utter any protest. The dust did not move as I passed through it, neither did the floor throw back the sound of my footfalls into the silent interior. This school had changed its function for now it had become a crypt where not even memories roamed. The only thing that dared to move within the place was me. The door stood ajar behind me and my thoughts turned towards a quick retreat. My eye was beginning to itch a little and when I wiped it, moisture was left upon it. It was blood which meant that my journey through the barrier had not passed without injury. Somewhere along the way, a branch, or thorn, had reached down and left its mark. It was a reminder that I had broken into a place that was forbidden, a school that wished to keep its own counsel and not be forced to share. This was a hidden place that intended to keep things that way. I was an intruder, an uninvited guest who had already stayed beyond a welcome that had never been offered and a wiser boy would have left whilst I still could. If the door behind me had not slammed shut, I would have left. I would have scraped through the thorny barrier and run to whatever place was still in existence beyond this twilight world. It would only happen in a world where it   didn’t. ‘I would’ was a regret for the path not taken and I was too far along that path to turn around. Perhaps this was where it was always going to end, in this school, entombed forever with the comfort of dust.Silence can be empty. It can be a dream or a dream of a dream. Whatever had vacated the building had done so a very long time before my arrival. The silence did not remember the end of movement, the lingering warmth of the last breath, or the scrape of a chair’s foot against the floor. In that silence, nothing dared and nothing hoped. 

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