Last Steps Inside A Building

Cousework - Imagine your the last person to step inside a derelict building.

Descriptive Writing:

 

  

 

It was eighteen years ago when I last stepped foot in these halls. It was nineteen years ago when I would do anything to be away from here. The rooms used to smell of disinfectant, but now there is nothing. I enter the double doors. There are no lights; all you can see are dangling wires dropping down from the ceiling. The only reason why I can see is because of the light from the broken windows.

 

I pace forward, almost robotic, looking for a door. I could see it in my mind, the door which told the future. Doctors and nurses would come in with their fancy clipboards and aristocratic double-barrelled names, shaking their heads but flashing their practised smile for my family’s reassurance. I remember sitting by my grandmother’s bed. She didn’t remember me. I was the little girl who came in with her son and daughter-in-law, the girl who sat there waiting for her to get better. Of course, she never did. Something happened one night, the doctors think it was a stroke. But she was a fighter, my Nan. Another year went by until it was finally her time to go.

But as the months went by, we almost lived in this building. I would see all the staff and long term patients walking down the halls. I got to know them by name. The walls were a bright white. Well if you died there was always heaven to go to. The floor was filled with dark tiles, in case any blood dripped onto it.

 

But now there is nothing. Nothing but memories. They may not be perfect, but they’re mine. They are the memories that have stayed with me, which have made me realise how vindictive life really is.

The doctors’ shadows are now covering the entire building, like they can’t escape. I stand facing the empowering darkness.

 

I stop at the door. It’s still covered in white paint. I should go; I should leave before they destroy it all and take away the building which has saved so many lives. I tell my feet to back away but they don’t. The footsteps in my head become louder, the faces I had seen every day are almost imprinted into my psyche. But all that’s left are broken clipboards and twigs on the floor. A sharp and pointed branch falls through one of the windows, landing at my feet. It’s almost like a hint that I should leave, in case more memories come back to hurt me.

 

The demolisher’s voices take me back to reality; I turn to leave. I don’t want to stay here while they’re hungry for destruction. I can hear their chanting echoing through the hallway. It’s go- go- going down! Take it down till it’s on the ground! My pace quickens. I jog, seeing flickers of my past move away from me and out of my life forever. The entrance gets nearer and at last I step outside. There’s light, there’s fresh air, there’s life. I look over to one of the men and they give me ‘the nod’ as I leave. The building will be gone in a few hours.

 

A car pulls over, a familiar face winding down the windows. It’s Mr. Knighton, the doctor who helped save my Nan. He won’t ever get to step inside this building again. But maybe it’s for the best. He won’t have to see how old and dull his pride and joy has become.

I walk away, trying desperately not to look back.

Author's Note

Coursework - Not working on it any more.
Just wondered what everyone thinks about it...