There was dead silence for few seconds, and everyone was looking at each other. There was no clue of what was going on outside. “Tring! Tring! Tring!” We heard the school bell ring. It was not to signal that the period was over. The rings were longer than usual. “Tring! Tring! Tring!” It rang again. This was unusual. The bell always rang only three times every time. If the bell rang nine times, it would mean that the school was facing some emergency situation- natural catastrophe, fire, breakdown, terrorist attack, anything which posed threat to the lives of the students. It would mean that we had to execute the real evacuation drill, like the one that we had practiced twice every year during mock evacuation drills. “Tring! Tring! Tring!” the bell rang again, but this time the rings were the longest we had ever heard. That was it. It was the signal for us to evacuate the auditorium, the classes and the labs and gather in the playground. According to the norm, we had to execute the evacuation drill in the disciplined manner we had been practicing. But the students, out of sheer apprehension and nervousness, panicked and ran towards the door. There were hundreds of students in the auditorium who were rushing for the exit at the same time. Everyone was shouting and screaming.

But my mind was working like a movie scene showing slow-motion action. Amidst all the pandemonium, I was lost in my thoughts. I was solely responsible for all that was happening around. How, you ask? Well, it all started two years back...


Prasanjit Saha
Last Online: Saturday 11/08/18 | Published on: Tuesday 13/03/18

Prasanjit Saha is the author of this content.

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Urban Fiction





No. of Chapters

In the Book

2018-03-13 14:46:53

Date First Published on Woxpert






The Right Time is Now

Tryst With Destiny


But You Did

Deja Vu

Numero Uno


Fill in the Blanks

No Parents, No Tuitions, No School…Just You and Me

Way of Saying a Lot

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Corollary to Great Power-Great Responsibility

Wishing for a Disaster

Hell, Rather

Looking for the Answer

You Can’t Do

A Loser’s Tale, Again

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