Settings from different perspectives, a school

An assignment for my writing class that I found fairly challenging

Perspective Setting: These Halls

by Ciara  Di Salle

The railings are an understated gold. They caress the walls, accurately following the curvature of the stairwell up each flight. They exude stability. Of course, the fundamental purpose of a railing is to provide such balance, but the wear on this particular one makes evident how often it has served as a safety net of sorts. There are deep gashes and faint scrapes consuming what is left of an originally smooth surface, giving the railing character, various markings brought to existence by a plethora of close calls over so many years of use. It is radiant, gold contrasting faded colours in the background, like a ray of hope prevailing against a creature that was once fearsome, but has grown weary and weathered, making the halls of the school safe for those who hurry up and down the stairs without notice. The warmth of these railings creates a blissful oblivion, emanating comfort and making the otherwise foreign building seem a bit more like home. As I snap out of my focus on the railing, my eyes drift across the stairwell. It is well built. The brick walls are sturdy, and evenly painted white and blue. Photos of graduates past line the walls, each an individual story of success and prosperity. They smile beautiful, genuine smiles, gazing knowingly at passers-by, framed with elegant, dark stained wood. It is quite well lit in the stairwell, allowing my eyes to take in each element in detail, revealing the complexity of a seemingly simple place. I take a step. 

The gold of the squalid, neglected railing is gradually turning a sickly green with every year of wear. Most of the shine has now faded, allowing the rail’s true form to show through: cheap rubber and metal. It is becoming as tattered as the rest of the place, every brick in the wall a cool blue, grey or white. As I run my fingers up the railing reluctantly, they frequently fall into abrupt gashes and divots. They make the railing look as if it had been hacked at with a hatchet instead of gripped by sweaty hands throughout the day. The fluorescent lights flicker briefly, and settle into a duller tone, making the handrail even further repulsive. The bulb can not seem to steady its self, and the light quickly becomes irritating to my eyes. Plastered to the chilled walls are faded mugs of past graduates, blankly gazing into nothingness. They seem absent, eerily content with their forced smiles and confined to the near black wood that frames each class.  I finally loosen my grip as I reach my floor, and allow the ugly golden line to sharply turn in parallel to the rough brick walls, away from me. The flickering of the lights becomes distant as I continue down the desolate hall. 

Author's Note

I love the feedback guys keep it coming

Reviews

[SquinklaPsyOps]

Very sweet... it brought back memories.

[Ciara Di Salle]

Thank you!