The Girl Which Cried

Creative writing
The nerves built as the clock was ticking and each second seemed to be constantly getting slower and slower. The usual school bell finally rang, the continuous piercing ringing noise ran through all the corridors and I knew it was time. I was reluctant to get up but as I pulled myself up off the wooden chair I slung my favourite brown bag onto my shoulder and walked slowly out of the classroom behind the masses of people trying to cram through the small door leading out to the main hallway which ran through the middle of my school. I felt the nerves creeping into my veins like venom and I started feeling sick. I was being pushed and shoved down the long corridor as I walked to the exit of school. The building was so warm and busy inside, almost cloister phobic. I stepped out of the old rusty yellow metal doors which were cold on my hands into the playground. For a moment the playground a place of loud screaming and children running around seemed beautiful and mellow, a thin layer of crystal white snow coated the floor and climbing frames and swings which are scattered around the place. The fresh winter air blew in my face and through my hair which was hanging over my icy cold face. I didn’t stop to say goodbye to my friends as usual, tonight was different. I set my mind to the task and ran to the bus stop; I sat myself down near the back of the bus and waited for it to pull away from the muddy curb situated outside school.
The bus was quite busy tonight and lots of young kids were sitting a few rows in front of me. The bus windows were foggy and it was almost impossible to see the bus drive away from the crowds of people waiting desperately for their parents to collect them from school. I sat there on the bus listening to the people around me chatting about their day and what they were going to eat for dinner. The time past sooner than I thought as the bus crawled up to the stop. I stepped off the bus and there it was in front of me, the...