Story ( Contest?)

[_Americanaa_]

Ooo! I want to know what happens!! XD

I also can't wait to know what happens next in your story!
The guards were based off of Stormtroopers from star wars!

Lol! Cant wait! If you would like link a horse and I can give a prize. Or if you would like to wait until the story is complete?

[Emlyn]

I also can't wait to know what happens next in your story!
The guards were based off of Stormtroopers from star wars!

Lol! Cant wait! If you would like link a horse and I can give a prize. Or if you would like to wait until the story is complete?

Thank you! I'm glad you like it!
Horse link:
https://www.horseworldonline.net/horse/profile/2549176

[_Americanaa_]

At around ten past ten on a Thursday at school, I was sitting in my Maths classroom. This was hardly an unusual occurrence - my next lesson was Maths and I hardly felt like practicing my clarinet, as was usual for me to do during breaks, and so I sat inside, hiding from my clarinet teacher in hopes she would assume I was practising.

Now, to understand the rest of the story, you must understand how the classroom is laid it. The Maths department on the second floor, above the functions room and overlooking the matric quad. There is a two-metre or so balcony outside - no fencing, no doorway onto it, just large windows overlooking it.

Mrs Wittersdrop*, called Mrs Wits* by pupils, was in the classroom with me - she was my Maths teacher. She was telling me a story about the matrics she had two years ago. She had been late to the Maths lesson and two of the matrics had climbed out onto the balcony and hidden from her. They had wanted to pop up outside the window and surprise her but Mrs Wits had known they were there from the giggling.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class."

"You want to shock them?"

"Yes."

As we were preparing for the prank, I terrified a good chunk of the matrics and one teacher - but the real fun was yet to come.

Now, it is important to know that Mrs Wits hated people being late. If you were late, you were locked outside of the classroom until she was ready to hear your excuse... and you had better hope your excuse was a good one.

I heard the class walk in just before half-past ten. Their yammering and chattering was fairly loud, as usual. A few of them had seen me as they walked up but most had gone to the classroom from the wrong side of the school. They took to their seats and quietened down and Mrs Wits started the lesson.

Roughly twenty minutes into the lesson, I got up from where I sat on the gravel, hidden under the window of the balcony. I went to the window and knocked on it.

"Sorry I'm late, Mrs Wts," I called cheerfully.

Mrs Wits stopped her lecture, strode up to the window and opened it. I climbed in through the window.

Mrs Wits, unperturbed, walks back to the Smartboard and carries on her lesson. I casually walk up to my bag, hidden behind her desk, and go back to my seat in the front, glancing at the faces of my classmates.

Ashna and Padma gazed dazedly at me; Padma's mouth was near catching flies. Diana's face was as pale as a sheet of white paper, lower jaw touching the floor; her horrified expression frozen on her face. Similar looks of shock decorated the faces of my classmates with the exception of perhaps two or three that had seen me on their way to class. It was beautiful and the story had spread through the grade by the end of the day.

Later, Diana told me why she had been so horrified.

"Mrs Shaw (our grade seven teacher) told me that if any of us set one foot on the (fenced, small, enclosed with a door) balconies we would be expelled immediately! It traumatised me!"

An indeterminable amount of time later (I really don't know, this was years ago), on a Tuesday, Maths is, again, the lesson after little break (or tea, if you've grown up. I never have from junior school. Tea is for adults, little break is for baby-me) I walk into Mrs Wits classroom and stop for a second, asking Mrs Wits a concerned question. She answers my question in the negative and, yet, it gives me an idea.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class." and I explained the prank to her.

"I don't think we should do that today - we can do that a bit later."

Next week Thursday comes and the thing that had caused me concern on the last Tuesday was once again in the classroom.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play that prank on the Maths class."

She agreed and we worked quickly to set up the prank.

A bit before ten-thirty, my class trickles in. The first few to walk in look horrified. Agnes Ross walks in, takes one look and walks right out, saying, "Nope! I refuse!"

After a few minutes, once everyone has sat in their seats (settled cannot be used here for their air of unease and panic that permeated the room could never allow for it.) The layout of the classroom in that dreaded position - no longer in groups of two to three but in rows and columns, each desk apart to prevent cheating.

"I found that we needed to test your progress in this section," Mrs Wits started her explanation. "I'm terribly sorry but I forgot to tell you about this test in advance. You may begin."

The pale, shaking hands turned over the papers to reveal a blank sheet, a piece of exam paper and a sweet.

"What!" shrieked one classmate.

"Mrs Wits!" another whined.

"How can you do this to us!" groaned another.

"It was my idea," I proudly said and immediately regretted it as the glares of twenty-five classmates turn on me. Of course, having just been startled and currently disliking me did not stop them from eating the sweets Mrs Wits and I laid out for them as an apology.

Was what I did cruel? Most certainly. Did I scare them? Yes. Did they find it funny later? Yes. Did I humiliate, mock or hurt them? No. Remember kiddos: confuse, don't abuse.

*Wittersdorp is pronounced: Vit-ters-dorp. Wits is pronounced 'vits'

All names are fake and generated by a name generator.

I really enjoyed this! As Emlyn said, GENIUS idea!! IF you would like link a horse for your reward

[_Americanaa_]

Lol! Cant wait! If you would like link a horse and I can give a prize. Or if you would like to wait until the story is complete?

Thank you! I'm glad you like it!
Horse link:
https://www.horseworldonline.net/horse/profile/2549176

Would you like the horse back?

[Emlyn]

Thank you! I'm glad you like it!
Horse link:
https://www.horseworldonline.net/horse/profile/2549176

Would you like the horse back?

Yes, please she's for a breeding project. Thank you!

[_Americanaa_]

Would you like the horse back?

Yes, please she's for a breeding project. Thank you!

She's up!

[Emlyn]

Yes, please she's for a breeding project. Thank you!

She's up!

Thank you!

[_Americanaa_]

She's up!

Thank you!

Yup

[Malakai10]

At around ten past ten on a Thursday at school, I was sitting in my Maths classroom. This was hardly an unusual occurrence - my next lesson was Maths and I hardly felt like practicing my clarinet, as was usual for me to do during breaks, and so I sat inside, hiding from my clarinet teacher in hopes she would assume I was practising.

Now, to understand the rest of the story, you must understand how the classroom is laid it. The Maths department on the second floor, above the functions room and overlooking the matric quad. There is a two-metre or so balcony outside - no fencing, no doorway onto it, just large windows overlooking it.

Mrs Wittersdrop*, called Mrs Wits* by pupils, was in the classroom with me - she was my Maths teacher. She was telling me a story about the matrics she had two years ago. She had been late to the Maths lesson and two of the matrics had climbed out onto the balcony and hidden from her. They had wanted to pop up outside the window and surprise her but Mrs Wits had known they were there from the giggling.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class."

"You want to shock them?"

"Yes."

As we were preparing for the prank, I terrified a good chunk of the matrics and one teacher - but the real fun was yet to come.

Now, it is important to know that Mrs Wits hated people being late. If you were late, you were locked outside of the classroom until she was ready to hear your excuse... and you had better hope your excuse was a good one.

I heard the class walk in just before half-past ten. Their yammering and chattering was fairly loud, as usual. A few of them had seen me as they walked up but most had gone to the classroom from the wrong side of the school. They took to their seats and quietened down and Mrs Wits started the lesson.

Roughly twenty minutes into the lesson, I got up from where I sat on the gravel, hidden under the window of the balcony. I went to the window and knocked on it.

"Sorry I'm late, Mrs Wts," I called cheerfully.

Mrs Wits stopped her lecture, strode up to the window and opened it. I climbed in through the window.

Mrs Wits, unperturbed, walks back to the Smartboard and carries on her lesson. I casually walk up to my bag, hidden behind her desk, and go back to my seat in the front, glancing at the faces of my classmates.

Ashna and Padma gazed dazedly at me; Padma's mouth was near catching flies. Diana's face was as pale as a sheet of white paper, lower jaw touching the floor; her horrified expression frozen on her face. Similar looks of shock decorated the faces of my classmates with the exception of perhaps two or three that had seen me on their way to class. It was beautiful and the story had spread through the grade by the end of the day.

Later, Diana told me why she had been so horrified.

"Mrs Shaw (our grade seven teacher) told me that if any of us set one foot on the (fenced, small, enclosed with a door) balconies we would be expelled immediately! It traumatised me!"

An indeterminable amount of time later (I really don't know, this was years ago), on a Tuesday, Maths is, again, the lesson after little break (or tea, if you've grown up. I never have from junior school. Tea is for adults, little break is for baby-me) I walk into Mrs Wits classroom and stop for a second, asking Mrs Wits a concerned question. She answers my question in the negative and, yet, it gives me an idea.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class." and I explained the prank to her.

"I don't think we should do that today - we can do that a bit later."

Next week Thursday comes and the thing that had caused me concern on the last Tuesday was once again in the classroom.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play that prank on the Maths class."

She agreed and we worked quickly to set up the prank.

A bit before ten-thirty, my class trickles in. The first few to walk in look horrified. Agnes Ross walks in, takes one look and walks right out, saying, "Nope! I refuse!"

After a few minutes, once everyone has sat in their seats (settled cannot be used here for their air of unease and panic that permeated the room could never allow for it.) The layout of the classroom in that dreaded position - no longer in groups of two to three but in rows and columns, each desk apart to prevent cheating.

"I found that we needed to test your progress in this section," Mrs Wits started her explanation. "I'm terribly sorry but I forgot to tell you about this test in advance. You may begin."

The pale, shaking hands turned over the papers to reveal a blank sheet, a piece of exam paper and a sweet.

"What!" shrieked one classmate.

"Mrs Wits!" another whined.

"How can you do this to us!" groaned another.

"It was my idea," I proudly said and immediately regretted it as the glares of twenty-five classmates turn on me. Of course, having just been startled and currently disliking me did not stop them from eating the sweets Mrs Wits and I laid out for them as an apology.

Was what I did cruel? Most certainly. Did I scare them? Yes. Did they find it funny later? Yes. Did I humiliate, mock or hurt them? No. Remember kiddos: confuse, don't abuse.

*Wittersdorp is pronounced: Vit-ters-dorp. Wits is pronounced 'vits'

All names are fake and generated by a name generator.

I really enjoyed this! As Emlyn said, GENIUS idea!! IF you would like link a horse for your reward

Thanks I just wrote this for the joy of doing so, thanks, though

[Malakai10]

At around ten past ten on a Thursday at school, I was sitting in my Maths classroom. This was hardly an unusual occurrence - my next lesson was Maths and I hardly felt like practicing my clarinet, as was usual for me to do during breaks, and so I sat inside, hiding from my clarinet teacher in hopes she would assume I was practising.

Now, to understand the rest of the story, you must understand how the classroom is laid it. The Maths department on the second floor, above the functions room and overlooking the matric quad. There is a two-metre or so balcony outside - no fencing, no doorway onto it, just large windows overlooking it.

Mrs Wittersdrop*, called Mrs Wits* by pupils, was in the classroom with me - she was my Maths teacher. She was telling me a story about the matrics she had two years ago. She had been late to the Maths lesson and two of the matrics had climbed out onto the balcony and hidden from her. They had wanted to pop up outside the window and surprise her but Mrs Wits had known they were there from the giggling.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class."

"You want to shock them?"

"Yes."

As we were preparing for the prank, I terrified a good chunk of the matrics and one teacher - but the real fun was yet to come.

Now, it is important to know that Mrs Wits hated people being late. If you were late, you were locked outside of the classroom until she was ready to hear your excuse... and you had better hope your excuse was a good one.

I heard the class walk in just before half-past ten. Their yammering and chattering was fairly loud, as usual. A few of them had seen me as they walked up but most had gone to the classroom from the wrong side of the school. They took to their seats and quietened down and Mrs Wits started the lesson.

Roughly twenty minutes into the lesson, I got up from where I sat on the gravel, hidden under the window of the balcony. I went to the window and knocked on it.

"Sorry I'm late, Mrs Wts," I called cheerfully.

Mrs Wits stopped her lecture, strode up to the window and opened it. I climbed in through the window.

Mrs Wits, unperturbed, walks back to the Smartboard and carries on her lesson. I casually walk up to my bag, hidden behind her desk, and go back to my seat in the front, glancing at the faces of my classmates.

Ashna and Padma gazed dazedly at me; Padma's mouth was near catching flies. Diana's face was as pale as a sheet of white paper, lower jaw touching the floor; her horrified expression frozen on her face. Similar looks of shock decorated the faces of my classmates with the exception of perhaps two or three that had seen me on their way to class. It was beautiful and the story had spread through the grade by the end of the day.

Later, Diana told me why she had been so horrified.

"Mrs Shaw (our grade seven teacher) told me that if any of us set one foot on the (fenced, small, enclosed with a door) balconies we would be expelled immediately! It traumatised me!"

An indeterminable amount of time later (I really don't know, this was years ago), on a Tuesday, Maths is, again, the lesson after little break (or tea, if you've grown up. I never have from junior school. Tea is for adults, little break is for baby-me) I walk into Mrs Wits classroom and stop for a second, asking Mrs Wits a concerned question. She answers my question in the negative and, yet, it gives me an idea.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play a prank on the Maths class." and I explained the prank to her.

"I don't think we should do that today - we can do that a bit later."

Next week Thursday comes and the thing that had caused me concern on the last Tuesday was once again in the classroom.

"Mrs Wits," I said. "We should play that prank on the Maths class."

She agreed and we worked quickly to set up the prank.

A bit before ten-thirty, my class trickles in. The first few to walk in look horrified. Agnes Ross walks in, takes one look and walks right out, saying, "Nope! I refuse!"

After a few minutes, once everyone has sat in their seats (settled cannot be used here for their air of unease and panic that permeated the room could never allow for it.) The layout of the classroom in that dreaded position - no longer in groups of two to three but in rows and columns, each desk apart to prevent cheating.

"I found that we needed to test your progress in this section," Mrs Wits started her explanation. "I'm terribly sorry but I forgot to tell you about this test in advance. You may begin."

The pale, shaking hands turned over the papers to reveal a blank sheet, a piece of exam paper and a sweet.

"What!" shrieked one classmate.

"Mrs Wits!" another whined.

"How can you do this to us!" groaned another.

"It was my idea," I proudly said and immediately regretted it as the glares of twenty-five classmates turn on me. Of course, having just been startled and currently disliking me did not stop them from eating the sweets Mrs Wits and I laid out for them as an apology.

Was what I did cruel? Most certainly. Did I scare them? Yes. Did they find it funny later? Yes. Did I humiliate, mock or hurt them? No. Remember kiddos: confuse, don't abuse.

*Wittersdorp is pronounced: Vit-ters-dorp. Wits is pronounced 'vits'

All names are fake and generated by a name generator.

This is funny! The pranks were GENIUS!

Thanks I think my class has finally forgiven me for them