References :

good luck
References :
me a cumpulsive reader

Need opinions Which one of these two is nicer?

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The next stop is Drayton Avenue, right beside the ruins of a burnt down secondary school. It’s not the nicest sight to introduce your eyes
to in the early hours of the morning, however I could look the other way, yet something draws me to it like a deep curiosity of what happened
there and it will be revealed if I stare long enough. But 14 days and counting – nothing. Noone is ever waiting at this stop, but this guy,
this scrawny looking guy called Travis departs here at the same time everyday. I don’t know the guy, but I became curious of his
daily routine and managed to catch his name when the disgruntled bus driver shouts it outloud to remind this junky where he is. I became
curious due to the fact that his routine was somewhat interlinked with mine, and as I said before, I don’t know the guy, yet something tells
me to keep a close eye on him. An elderly women who works in the greengrocers departs the bus for some reason which grabs my attention
because she normally gets off at the same stop as me. Travis follows her off. I can’t explain it but, I feel a deep unsettling cloud in the
back of my head that I can only interpret as a disturbing vision of great pain. I calm myself and dismiss the feeling as a rare anomoly, after all,
it’s just a feeling.
This part of town sparks fear into most residents of Drayton park due to its lack of life and eerie looking scenary, and yet somehow I
found it freeing. This feeling isn’t easy to explain, and even I haven’t come to terms with exactly why I enjoy passing through here, but I
guess I find the pure insolation pieceful. It’s refreshing being able to pass through a part of town without the risk of a punk kid losing control
of his skate board and having it narrowly miss your shins, or a charity collector whos way too aggressive in her approach not understanding the
concept of "NO". In my mind at least, the eerie scenary and post war looking infrastructure, mixed with the slowly decaying, ironically named
"Hope" graveyard is a small price to pay for feeling free. Or maybe its morbid curiousity.
I look at my Casio watch and realise 20 minutes has passed, why is that feeling still strong? This isn’t something I’m used to but I can’t
seem to control my wondering mind as it forces paranoia apon me.
It’s 8.30am and here I am again, going about my own routine. I’ve never had much trouble arising in the early hours of the morning, yet the
events of last night caused me to have a late night trying to interpret what I experienced. The feelings are still strong in my mind and I can’t
help but notice the old women from the greengrocers hasn’t boarded the bus since that day, she must be ill or maybe retired? – I hope.
But I can no longer ignore the fact that the big wooden double doors to the secondary school ruins were now open and have been all week.
It’s not something your average person would notice, but maybe this is why I felt the urge to stare at this delapadated building everytime I
passed it? It’s not my stop, but something inside me wants me to get off and before I can reconsider the decision, the bus doors have closed
behind me and I’m left standing alone on the broken curb. At this point I realise that I’ve passed through Drayton Avenue many times on my
routine, yet I had never departed here. As I realise that my walk home is too long and I have a 15 minute wait until the next bus I find myself
walking in the direction of the school.
The feelings I felt passing this stop on the bus are certainly stronger as I strole through onfoot. As I look around I can’t help but notice the
complete isolation, which is increased by the surrounding dense woodland. I turn around to face the bus stop and I realise I have walked a good
200 yards and am approaching the school doors. I still wasn’t completely sure what I was doing, but I felt compelled to enter.
As soon as the sole of my shoes makes contact with the dusty floor of the entrance, a unnerving wave sweeps through my body and for a
split second my vision is blurred red. I find myself in a state of paralysis, which I can only interpret as pure fear of what im expriencing. I now
sense a deep darkness. As I walk through the charcoal stained corridors I find myself at the top of the staircase leading down to what I’m
guessing is a storage room. The first step I take makes a hollow sound that echoes through the entire school, but yet I keep going. At the
bottom is a small white door, which is eerily clean and the only part of the building that is undamaged from the fire. As I put my hand on the
door knob I take a glance at my casio watch and realised its stopped, but at this point I don’t care. I enter and time stands still, and everthing
seems to be happening in slow motion. As I drop to my knees, I land in 2 inc