MIddle School Art

The strange earthquake that had hit the museum had passed quietly for miles without even rattling a window or shaking a tree branch. Rows of neighborhood homes sat untouched. The homes' occupants remained in bed, fast asleep, not even realizing the things happening outside of them.

But, right outside the middle school, an evergreen, pointing right up to the sky, waved in warning. Its needles dropped underneath it, adding to the already thick pile of brown, discarded growth.

The earthquake seemed to leave the whole building alone. A single row of lights, that brightened the hallways at night, showed nothing out of place. They were neat and clean. The tile floor was waxed to perfection, and only one light by a classroom flickered as if it were planning to go out.

Classroom doors were closed and the windows in these doors revealed nothing to worry about. Books lined the shelves neatly, the chalkboards were wiped clean, and the chairs neatly lined up to their matching tables.

This perfect pattern was disrupted by an open door. The moonlight threw an eerie wave of moonlight onto everything. Tables were overturned, and chairs knocked over.

Easels, which had held up paintings from the previous day's class, still stood. They were standing on their easels, however, one was torn open.