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MidReal Story
in a classroom,a blackboard
Anonymous
Dec 9
Scenario:in a classroom,a blackboard
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I sat in a classroom, waiting for the bell to ring and signal the start of another day at school.
The air was thick with the smell of chalk and the sound of students chattering amongst themselves.
My classmates were sitting at their desks, some of them busy copying down the homework from the blackboard, while others were talking and laughing.
The teacher, a tall man with a mop of unruly hair, sat at his desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
I took my seat, glancing around the classroom as I did so.
Everything seemed normal—the desks were arranged in neat rows, the windows were open, letting in the bright sunlight, and the blackboard was clean and free of any writing.
Except that it wasn’t.
I blinked and looked again.
The blackboard was no longer blank but covered in writing.
It was messy and slightly smudged, like someone had hurriedly scrawled it on there in a hurry, but the words were still legible.
I frowned and leaned closer to get a better look.
The words didn’t make any sense to me.
“The truth lies in the past.”
That was it.
Those were the words that had been written on the blackboard.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I read them.
There was something about those words that set my heart racing and made my mind whirl with possibilities.
Why were they there?
Who had written them?
And most importantly, what did they mean?
As I pondered these questions, I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching me.
I glanced around the classroom but didn’t see anything unusual.
My classmates were still engrossed in their own conversations and activities and didn’t seem to have noticed the writing on the blackboard at all.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important about those words—that they meant something.
I was still staring at them when the teacher stood up from his desk and cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
I blinked and looked up, trying to shake off my unease.
The teacher was frowning and had his arms crossed over his chest, looking annoyed.
“Is there a problem, Miss Johnson?”
he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, sir,” I said quickly, shaking my head.
He frowned and looked at me for a moment longer, then turned away and started writing something on the board—erasing the message that was there.
I felt a pang of regret as I watched him do so.
Without realizing it, I’d started to think of those words as a puzzle—a mystery to be solved.
Now they were gone, erased completely, and I was left with nothing but questions.
What was the truth?
And how did it lie in the past?
I knew that I probably wouldn’t find out—wouldn’t get any answers to my questions—but that didn’t stop me from wondering.
