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18XX – Part 8

I am strolling through the walls of my former school, Martin Fisher Memorial. It’s been eight years now since I left.

The school compound looks deserted and old and the classrooms and assembly grounds that used to look very big in my eyes now look very small.

I am witnessing a distant present that seems out of place and forgotten.

We played over there. That place there, a certain woman sold petty items we bought during breaks. This demolished structure here was a canteen and that office there was the headteacher’s office. A urinal once stood over there, beside those trees.

I feel like a certain wall should have been built to protect our childhood memories within this place. The little little things that happened here mattered so much to me now. I am saddened these old abandoned structures are all there will ever be as souvenirs of our past.

I notice the school garden has grown bushy and a pile of rusty watering cans blocked entrance into the weed-invaded vegetable garden. There were some garden egg plants that stubbornly stood tall against the mass of weed as if to ask if it’s worth the effort.

A poster on an office door draws my attention. I go closer and bend to peer. It was an obituary of Old Baldwin!

I look around and see him moving about his duty amidst noise from our classrooms that sometimes provoked merciless beatings from our teachers.

It was hard to believe these fond memories of my primary school days were gone with the wind and what remained in their place were dusty, empty classrooms of cobwebs and a poster that seemed to point where all this would end one day.

When I left the school, I headed towards the town market and on my way, I bumped into a former classmate of mine. He could not recognize me. I tried to explain to him all the things we used to do together. I mentioned our class teacher Wolf and the names of some of our classmates. He remembered some of the names and our teacher but he said he honestly could not recognize me.

I felt like a ghost that had come to say a final goodbye to my home. It was long after the young man left that I remembered his name : Noble.

He used to sit in the front row of the class with Victoria and Vivian. The three were always together.

Oh, these memories! …

5 responses to “18XX – Part 8”

  1. Interesting…. is this a fiction story?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes. I have written 8 short parts so far. If you scroll down my posts, you will see parts 1-7…( The 18XX series)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. That is nice!. I’ll start at the beginning then😊

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Alright. Enjoy the read and feel free to ask any questions regarding the piece.

        Thanks for your feedback and for taking time to read through my write-up.

        Liked by 1 person

    2. Thank you. I write poems, short stories and motivational stuff

      Liked by 1 person

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