School Number Four
School Number Four – Timon Tan
“The introduction portion of the morning was over, and soon the First Graders were to be taken to their first class. We Last Graders had the responsibility to this, but before doing so, the First Grader first would give us a flower. It was quite an established tradition within our school as a sign of respect, acceptance, and also initiation.”
“The Last Graders stood on the stage. There the First Grader one by one, walked up to their designated Last Grader with a flower in their tiny fingers. Many had white daisies, some had yellow roses and one or two who could afford it, had real white roses.”
“Alina had a yellow rose. Her last grader to which she was paired with was, whether by coincident or fate, was Marat. I had a little boy, Kazaki, who looked just like my youngest cousin, but had a peculiar voice, almost making him sound like a girl. I had to hold my laughter when he passed his rose to me and said hi in his high pitch voice. It was not intentional, but just a byproduct of good humor.”
“Father now had moved to the front of the hall to get a better view of the tradition, his eyes, constantly on Alina and me. From the podium, I waved to him and prompted Kazaki to wave too. He was rather shy, keeping his arms to himself. I came to his level and asked him about his parents. He slowly pointed an arm of his to two people in the crowd. I smiled at them and they smiled back. We stood on the podium a little longer allowing the parents to take more photographs.”
“We soon had to go back to our places as the stage was used for a small tradition performance by the third years. I guided Kazaki back to his seat but not before he tugged at my arm and told me not to leave. I bowed to him and told him that I will be right back for him…but now I regret that.”
“I was back at my place, next to Marat whom was impatient for the performance to end. He never liked tradition since he was young and preferred to be more open-minded. I didn’t mind both ends of the spectrum, and sat relatively calm to the fidgeting Marat. Soon the performance was over and Marat’s was almost visible. I looked over at Alina whom also brief a sigh of relief. Probably explaining why Alina was paired up with Marat…”
“As I got up from my place I looked over at my father. He looked at me, smiling as usual. I turned after a quick glimpse, not aware that this was to be the last time I ever saw him again….”
“The adults were clearing the hall. Father moved with the crowd out of the hall into the corridors and the conference room…and that was when hell started…when all hell broke loose.”
“I had Kazaki in my arms when it happened. First I thought it was just fireworks, noises of shots and ‘booms’. Then from the side doors of the gym hall, they flooded in. About ten men with black ski mask burst from no where. They shouted at us, kicking at some of the kids, shoving them about. I stood there, confused at what was going on. That was not part of the day’s program.”
“Than more of the same shots came, and one of the men revealed a revolver. He fired it at the door way. All of us cupped our ears at its piercing sound. One of the girls screamed at the sight. The man turned his revolver towards her and fired, silencing her and all of us.”
“I stood motionless at the sight. A strange quietness suddenly settled as the shots, which I know now was gunshots, stopped. The girl who was shot at slowly pulled herself towards the crowd of students for safety. More people with ski mask entered the hall, they were not armed with revolvers, but armed with rifles…”
“I turned to Marat who was a few steps away. He held onto Alina, ready to shield her with his body if something was to happen. His face told a grim story. I could not see Alina’s expression, being hidden by Marat’s body. Than I turned back front, and Kazaki was gone…”
“The introduction portion of the morning was over, and soon the First Graders were to be taken to their first class. We Last Graders had the responsibility to this, but before doing so, the First Grader first would give us a flower. It was quite an established tradition within our school as a sign of respect, acceptance, and also initiation.”
“The Last Graders stood on the stage. There the First Grader one by one, walked up to their designated Last Grader with a flower in their tiny fingers. Many had white daisies, some had yellow roses and one or two who could afford it, had real white roses.”
“Alina had a yellow rose. Her last grader to which she was paired with was, whether by coincident or fate, was Marat. I had a little boy, Kazaki, who looked just like my youngest cousin, but had a peculiar voice, almost making him sound like a girl. I had to hold my laughter when he passed his rose to me and said hi in his high pitch voice. It was not intentional, but just a byproduct of good humor.”
“Father now had moved to the front of the hall to get a better view of the tradition, his eyes, constantly on Alina and me. From the podium, I waved to him and prompted Kazaki to wave too. He was rather shy, keeping his arms to himself. I came to his level and asked him about his parents. He slowly pointed an arm of his to two people in the crowd. I smiled at them and they smiled back. We stood on the podium a little longer allowing the parents to take more photographs.”
“We soon had to go back to our places as the stage was used for a small tradition performance by the third years. I guided Kazaki back to his seat but not before he tugged at my arm and told me not to leave. I bowed to him and told him that I will be right back for him…but now I regret that.”
“I was back at my place, next to Marat whom was impatient for the performance to end. He never liked tradition since he was young and preferred to be more open-minded. I didn’t mind both ends of the spectrum, and sat relatively calm to the fidgeting Marat. Soon the performance was over and Marat’s was almost visible. I looked over at Alina whom also brief a sigh of relief. Probably explaining why Alina was paired up with Marat…”
“As I got up from my place I looked over at my father. He looked at me, smiling as usual. I turned after a quick glimpse, not aware that this was to be the last time I ever saw him again….”
“The adults were clearing the hall. Father moved with the crowd out of the hall into the corridors and the conference room…and that was when hell started…when all hell broke loose.”
“I had Kazaki in my arms when it happened. First I thought it was just fireworks, noises of shots and ‘booms’. Then from the side doors of the gym hall, they flooded in. About ten men with black ski mask burst from no where. They shouted at us, kicking at some of the kids, shoving them about. I stood there, confused at what was going on. That was not part of the day’s program.”
“Than more of the same shots came, and one of the men revealed a revolver. He fired it at the door way. All of us cupped our ears at its piercing sound. One of the girls screamed at the sight. The man turned his revolver towards her and fired, silencing her and all of us.”
“I stood motionless at the sight. A strange quietness suddenly settled as the shots, which I know now was gunshots, stopped. The girl who was shot at slowly pulled herself towards the crowd of students for safety. More people with ski mask entered the hall, they were not armed with revolvers, but armed with rifles…”
“I turned to Marat who was a few steps away. He held onto Alina, ready to shield her with his body if something was to happen. His face told a grim story. I could not see Alina’s expression, being hidden by Marat’s body. Than I turned back front, and Kazaki was gone…”
posted by Fishy at 1:20 AM
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