By Angie Brown, Guest Author

Being gifted in sketching and painting, my sister and I decided to enroll in an evening class of oil painting.  Thrilled to be back in school, we completed the first year.  My sister dropped out then, but I started my second year.

After class on this one particular evening, the students seemed to be in a hurry and left, leaving me the last one of our class to depart. The stairs to the first floor were dimly lit, but I could still make my way down. I had to get to the telephone, which was located in the lobby, to call my husband to pick me up.

Suddenly, all the lights went out, and the building was in total darkness. I was familiar with the first floor, so I knew my way there. By placing my hand on the wall I could slide it along slowly past the closed classroom doors. Reaching the lobby, I saw a streak of light coming through the main door from an outdoor street lamp.

Fortunately, I could also make out the outline of the telephone booth. As I approached it, I could see that the inside of the booth was completely dark.  Now, how was I to see the numbers on the rotary wheel?  After feeling around for the dial, I trustingly hoped I would hit the right numbers. I only had one dime of change in my pocket, one chance to get the right numbers. I carefully dialed the numbers and waited anxiously. Success: I heard my husband’s voice!  With great relief, I desperately shouted, “Please hurry. The lights are out. It’s dark in here, and I’m scared to death.”  Now I would have to retrace my steps along the wall to the door where I would be picked up. I stood near the door trembling for fear that someone else was still in the building and would snatch me in the dark. The outside was just as dark.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I saw my husband’s car. I dashed out and jumped into the waiting open door.  It was then that I realized I had been all alone in the big, black, building.

(For more articles by Angie Brown, click HERE)