The school sits quietly near the center of the city. It's not a very big building but many have admitted that it can look overwhelming. Even on its most active days, the school looks almost deserted, giving passers-by the idea that maybe it's not a school or maybe it has a different schedule from other schools.

Yet, on the inside, the school bustles with activity and noise. Children running from room to room although running is very much against the rules. But, how can one tell boisterous, hyperactive children that their very instincts to run and scream is wrong?

During the day, the school sits in relative silence when the lessons are going on. But as soon as the bell rings, chaos breaks out like a fiery stallion finally released into the wild. Walking along the corridors become more dangerous than walking into the path of an F1 car during a race. The only safer alternative would be to stay within the classrooms but anyone who does so gets deluged by screams and bangs and booms that seem to permeate the walls. The city of London during the Blitz might have felt the same way in comparison.

Then, after school is over, it gets quiet all over again. Dusk falls and the security moves in for the night. The gates are closed and the night goes on as everyone goes about their way; heading home to rest and relax and maybe prepare themselves mentally and physically for the next day.

The roads outside quieten down as the night goes on. The cars lessen and the noises start to die down. The houses on either side of the school become dark as the residents bed down for the night. The night creatures arise to do what Nature intended them to do.

There are times when the school becomes truly only a silent, looming building. Occasionally, the security would switch on all the lights, flooding the building with a semblance of life. But the classrooms remain in darkness because it would take too long and too much energy to go through them all.

But sometimes, a light would flicker in the room at the topmost floor. Nobody is in there but the light would go on and then switch off after a few minutes. Sometimes even after a few hours. Some people have justified it by saying the security might have done it. But the security changes over the week. Unless there is a rule that they must switch on the lights in that particular room, there is no known reason for the lights to behave as they have.

At other times, some teachers have returned at night to finish some of their work. They would be in their classrooms, marking books or papers or finishing off some reports on the computer. A lot of times, they have reported that the night security brings his children into work. They can hear the children running up and down the corridors, sometimes banging on the doors as they go by. When the teachers later head out for the night, they make a comment to the security about it and he gives them the odd look. He has no children. He's not even married. There's nobody else on the premises other than him and the teacher. He has seen no children that night. But the teacher definitely heard them.

Sometimes, even during the day, a girl is seen in the upper floor. She looks out the windows as if lamenting her own inability to be outside. Other times, she's looking into the classrooms as if wanting to be inside. She looks curious. She wants to know what is going on. Yet, she is trapped where she is. Unable to leave yet finding no reason to stay. Sometimes, she's invited into the classes to watch but she is warned not to touch or disturb. Maybe she is grateful because she does as she is told. She watches closely. So close that a more sensitive person could feel her. She never sits but she reads over shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, for the moment, her curiosity is satisfied and she has learned something. But eventually, she goes back to her window and looks out. Sadly. Trapped once more.

Only a few know of this. But more shall know soon enough. The school is getting restless. Its usefulness is coming to an end. The building is slowly losing all its insides. There is a newer, younger version of it. Soon, it will stand empty and silent. It will truly be deserted. It is not happy to be left behind. Sadness fills its walls. A tinge of anger permeates its structure.

It shows its anger more than its sadness. It sits there, heavy, making things difficult for the people who are walking in and out, carrying its insides out to the trucks. At night, it manifests itself, locking toilet doors, forcing the people in the toilets to kick the doors open to get out. It throws the remaining tables and chairs as if trying to exorcise its own anger at being left behind.

Today, it stands silent. Large. Alone. Maybe it is biding its time. Maybe it has something planned. Maybe it is hoping it, too, could move along with its insides.

The children may be silent. The girl may still just be waiting in increased desolation. Maybe.

We can only wait and see.