By Daelyn Wilson
At turtle speed it seemed, the hand of the clock moved from tick to tick. Each time, a thundering click emerged from the clock. If the room hadn’t been so deathly silent, then the clock would sound like a giant running. There were five other students in the room with me.
Detention. Not exactly a proud place to be. But here we are. In complete and utter silence. With the exception of the ticking clock.
The day had started out with me frantically searching my room for a paper I knew I had written and left on my desk the night before. I search so long, I lost track of time, and I was late for school. My first-period class teacher, Mrs. Ferns, hates students being late, and boy was I late! 15 minutes into the class period, I stumbled through the door. It didn’t help that the paper I couldn’t find, was for her class. She wasted no time giving me the detention slip. Almost 4 years of high school and never once had I ever gotten detention. Life decided that today was a good day for that to happen.
My awful luck didn’t stop there. Mom didn’t have time to give me lunch money. So, I had no lunch. And then, someone tripped in the cafeteria and I ended up wearing their tuna salad sandwich and chocolate milk. I didn’t have a change of clothes, so I spent my lunch cleaning my shirt off in the bathroom. I was actually relieved to make it to detention without tripping or running into someone.
The teacher entered the room. He was known as the toughest teacher in the school, Mr. Miller. He was wearing a checkered brown suit and navy-blue tie. He was a middle-aged man, with dark brown hair, that was just starting to grey on the sides. He held a crystal-clear glass in his hand, that was partially full of water. While staring at all of us over the edge of his wire-rim glasses, he took a drink then set the empty glass down on the oak desk.
“No talking. No napping. You can work on your homework. If you have no homework, feel free to write an essay on one of these two topics.” He gestured to the chalkboard. Where there were two topics written in precise handwriting. Before he could say anything else, there was a sudden rumbling. It caused him to stumble into his desk, and then to the floor. The entire school seemed to be shaking. Dust fell from the ceiling as the lights began to flicker. Immediately, the six of us ducked under our desks. The shaking continued as pieces of cement and ceiling started to fall. There was a short pause in the shaking.
“I find you worthy and I chose you six, to be my warriors,” a voice, seemingly out of nowhere said. Before we could look around, the rumbling earthquake resumed. The ceiling completely caved in and everything went black.