In one of the city’s historic sandstone schools, the lowest floor is reserved for kindergarten. There are two classrooms set aside for the purpose, one of which is unused and locked at all hours. The windows are painted over with black paint, though you can sometimes make out movement inside. During the summer, when school lets out, the room is sometimes accessible if the other kindergarten room is unlocked. They share a cloakroom, and the unused room’s door onto the cloakroom opens of its own accord at odd hours.
Class is in session, but the children never play or speak. Their clothing is from a variety of vintages. The oldest looks like a depression-era urchin and the latest wears a bright blue ninja turtles sweatshirt. The only one who will seem to notice your presence is the teacher, who won’t appear to care. The room has a strange feeling of foreboding owing to the fact that other than the occupants everything seems to be old to the point of decay, older than it should be.
The bookshelf in the room has a variety of children’s books, all of which are slightly wrong. Though the titles will be familiar, the illustrations will depict a very different setting than the familiar versions. They seem more militant and even winnie the pooh takes on a martial air. Never take any of them from the room, or the teacher may decide to teach you a lesson.