Commonwealth Essay Competition

Describe a place's atmosphere and describe why it is so special to you.

It's five-fifty in the morning. The sky is still an inky black, as I punch in the code that locked me out from the old band room. The handle no longer works – it hangs limply, its spring rusted to the ages. I grabbed it with a hard pull and the door swung open, hinges creaking like a church gate.

I stepped into this decrepit room, its familiar musty smell overwhelming me. Everything was still pitch dark, the rough shapes of the instrument cases a shade darker in the gloom. I clicked the switch, but after a blinding flash, most of them flickered and went off, leaving one single panel of illumination casting light, out of the total twelve, just enough to brighten the corners of this cramped area.

I strolled across the dusty carpet, maneuvering across the maze of instruments, rather sloppily stacked in unorganized piles. Sitting down on my instrument case, as there was no space for chairs, I promptly stared at this room, wondering why I awake so early in the morning to be in this smelly, crumbling room. I looked around, truly scrutinizing the place for the first time. The walls, once gleaming white, had now dulled into a sullied grey. It had unsightly cracks, and in some places, patches missing, from the numerous soccer matches held informally, with balls slamming into them, along with raucous cheers. Band members took no notice of how small this room actually was. In fact, so did I. To me, this place was infinitely huge, spacious enough to hold even the largest of heart and strongest of passion. In a way, it was a silent observer, observing our laughter and tears. It experienced band practices, war fights and pizza parties.

I couldn't forget the day when I saw this room when I first joined the band. My eyes of arrogance immediately slighted the room, scanning the lint-covered windows with utmost distaste, staring daggers at the fraying, scruffy coating on the floor they call a carpet, wiping a finger across the window panes and flicking about the sooty particles in repulse. Slowly, yet definitely, my attitude changed, as I found myself increasingly attached to the band, and thus, this band room. I never knew myself capable of such commitments, but I recall the hours I spent long hours after practice was over, with everyone gone, having a seat on one of the cases, beginning a battle against an onslaught of vicious slurs and sharps, and that was when I realize, doubtlessly, band became my bloodline – I was part of it, and now it has gently obtained a place in my heart.

What had changed? From the cool, distant Year 1 student, I progressed through the quotidian practices, sometimes cursing silently at the complicated rhythms, sometimes beaming at accomplishing a difficult passage. I no longer regarded this band room as a place inviting criticism, but a sanctuary in times of turmoil. After all, how many times have I lain beside the window, squeezed beside a trombone case, watching the swift staccatos of rain fall, knowing I’m truly safe in this place of peace? And how can I count the occasions when I walk in and find true friends waiting for my presence?

This place has not changed – not for the better, anyway. The door's paint job had peeled off to reveal a color popular maybe eons ago; new cracks appear; a pool of dried up paint lay conspicuously in a corner, spilt by accident. The odor of emptied saliva, sweat, silver polish and vault oil still hung heavily in the air, but no longer was it oppressive, but familiar and irreplaceable, not unlike the first few rays of sunlight. The air-conditioner still chokes up sometimes, and even though the thermostat reads 16 degrees Celsius, unexplainable warmth flowed through me, comfortable and homely.

Why compelled me to wake up so early to be in this place, smelly and crumbling? I pushed back the curtains, and saw dawn was breaking, the magnificent sun shining virgin splendor, filling the room with a brilliant golden.

I think I've gotten my answer.

Not bad, eh? I think I still can edit it a bit, but for now it will remain as it is. Hey guys - don't plagiarize! Nights!