Now some things in Potter Oaks were odd while others were unfortunate. Both, however, seemed to convene around Peneloper Auttsley. Her locker, #157, had become unfortunate thanks in large part to Miss Auttsley.

It hadn't always been that way though. For a long time, locker #157 had been one of the most heralded lockers to grace the halls of Potter High, housing books for the high school's elite, pride welling from its metallic seams.

But sadly, its lot in life shifted when Miss Auttsley joined the junior ranks and settled in the northern corridor of the school. At her hands, the locker had become corrupted, smudged and scratched by her indifference and lack of care.

It contained no school books and housed only an ink-stained book bag that slouched in its bottom, broken pens pouring out their black and blue souls on the locker's floor.

In the summer months, mud-caked sneakers were thrust into it. In fall, soggy hoodies and coats were hung in it, water pooling on the ground. It  smelled of mold come the winter months when it housed the itchiest wool coat to ever exist. The damned thing scratched locker #157's insides relentlessly, making the locker wish it could grow talons and alleviate the itch.

But that is the ailment of the mundane; they cannot-- no matter how much they wish it-- change with simple desire. No, that is best left to the more peculiar beings like Mister Heavensley.

It goes without saying that locker #157 grew distant and dismal, falling from its pedestal at the stained, crooked hands of Miss Auttsley, becoming a locker the others regarded with pity.

Now, the poor dear hangs its head in shame, slouching its corners, hiding among the darkness, waiting for the day it will finally be scrapped.

Feel bad for the locker, the unsung hero of high school hallways, and lament when the mighty ones fall.

- The End -