Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Open Cabinet

By , Monticello, IL

It was foggy that day. That Saturday morning. The damp clouds hovered over the ground. Silent. There was nobody around. Towering over me, I gazed along the crops. Skidding on a beaten path with cracked mud and rocks. I was pedaling. Pedaling fast. A pointy rock collided with one of my bike tires and I gradually slowed down to a stop. I scanned the rubber wheel. It was lifeless and droopy, like a man that hasn’t had coffee quite yet in the morning. I started to walk my zombie bike. I came across a cracked sidewalk that led to a huge building. My school. Just like my transportation here, the school was lifeless. No cars. No people. Just me and my bike. The wheels of my bike creaked all the way to the abandoned school. I leaned my dead bike against the giant brick house. My dirty sneakers went up the 100-year-old steps. Tip...toe...tip..toe. The keys in my pocket rattled as a slid them out. I placed the science teacher’s keys in the wooden door.

Creeeaakkkk. The door was open. I closed the door behind me and looked beyond my focus point. The enormous hallway, lined with once opened doors, was now closed. All the doors were sealed off for the weekend, and the only thing that was open was my curiosity. The hallways were dark. I felt as though I was in a never-ending cave. Walking. Walking. I came to the door labeled: “Science Lab”. This was it. I get the beaker and go back to working on my science project. This was it. I opened the well conditioned door and flipped on the lights. The glass cylinders were lined against the wall. Everything was in place. Except for that cabinet. That cabinet that could have just stayed shut. Our plant that we were studying about was pouring out of the cabinet. It got huge. The green stem had shaken off the leaves, and new thorns were jabbing out of it. I stared in horror. I grabbed the beaker as quickly as possible, and I stepped back. It’s doing nothing, I said. It’s harmless. Right as I said those soon-to-be-ironic words, the intelligent green plant started to slither against the ground. I thought it was a snake. No this couldn’t be one. It just wasn’t.

I ran for the door, but the plant ran faster. As I made a run for the door, the plant barricaded the door and spread out, like a vine against an old stone wall. I slammed open the withered doors, but it wouldn’t budge. My heart was beating fast. Boom...boom boom...boom. I needed to find another way out. Walking, running, then sprinting. The plant started to line the walls, moving for the lockers. A thorny part of the plant, no no not plant, monster, wrapped its green arms around my achilles. I dropped the beaker. Glass shattering everywhere. My ankle screamed in pain, and tears began to slide down my face. I needed a knife. I limped to our woodworking class with the plant still tugging on me. The axe that we had was on the right side of the door, and that was my best chance of getting free. I smashed the glass protector with my sweaty hand and grabbed my weapon of choice. The old and fragile wood handle gave me splinters as I picked it up. It was against the rules to use ‘old faithful’ (that’s what our woodworking teacher called it). But in this kind of emergency? Yeah, I really needed it. My muscles tensed, and I swung down on the plant as hard as I could with the hope that the axe wouldn’t interfere with anything else. I was successful. The monster's arms slowly limped and some kind of green slime came oozing out of it. I was going to be sick. My ankle had deep gashes of where the thorns were. It was burning with pain. The back door. Limping leg, hand with an axe, and fear sprouting everywhere in my body, I was ready to get out. The plant wasn’t over. It sprouted from a different stem and started to slither again. As I sprinted down the hallway, the lockers seemed like a cornfield when driving on a highway. The green monster was fast. It ran when I ran. It stopped when I stopped. I made a sharp right and there was the door. I needed to make it there. I was right there. The plant predicted my moves, so it barricaded this door too. I could predict the plant’s moves too. I took my axe and cut through the plant’s exterior. Green slime was everywhere and the plant started to become lifeless. I pushed open the door as hard as I could and I could finally see the hot sun. I smiled in relief and dropped my axe. But this wasn’t over. The monster came back for revenge. The thorny arm followed me outside, again coming back to life. I ran to my bike and picked it up, but of course, the plant picked it up faster, lining the brick walls faster than a cheetah. The plant wrapped around my whole body and this time it wasn’t just my ankle. The monster held me in its claws, its arms. There was nobody around to help, to at least hear. I twisted and turned to try to get out of this deathly grip. The sun was slowly disappearing through the plant’s arms. Then black.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback