The Gas Chamber
Shadows crept across the wall of the boarding school dormitory. There was utter silence. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Which was unusual with eight boisterous, hormonal teenagers forced into one room, with too much energy to sleep at a ridiculously early hour. We were playing Colditz, a WWII prisoner of war series on the telly. Six of us ‘prisoners’ would hide at various points in the dormitory, while the two remaining ‘guards’ would take a flashlight and try and find us. Now, of course, there were very few places you could hide in a sparse dormitory, so most of us were under the beds trying to stifle our excited giggles.
