The Echo Room

     Along the corridors of the building, the soft patter and squeak of shoes as steps were made onto the hard floor vibrates from one place to another. You could feel it if you were sitting on the floor and you could distinguish what kind of shoes made that particular vibration. Heeled shoes would create more of a pang of vibration while flip-flops would be more 'squeaky'.
     To add to that, there are also the conversations being made by people hurrying to their destination or just loitering around. More often than not, they won't be too quiet. In fact, if you stay still in one corner, you'd actually catch some of the things they are talking about.
     "When was the speech again?"
     "Ang hirap ng exam!"
     "Au revoir!"
     But in this place where I am right now, all these noises cease to be makes sense. They all merges and twists into faint, indistinct hums.
     I could hear nothing but the roar of metals turning and turning fast to generate wind, the occasional sighs and murmurs, the crisp, crunching sound of paper fluttered by soft air, and my quavering voice - all these heightened and reflected, as if I am on top of the mountain or on the bottom of a well.
    Where am I exactly? I am in the Echo Room.
    If you ask other people, some of my friends or even some of my classmates, they won't be able to show you the direction to this room because they won't know what you're talking about or maybe they will but the thing is, no one will be certain about it.
     The echo room is something I came up with for this place. Yes, the Echo Room is not it's real name. And basically, it's not a mysterious fortress nor is it remotely similar to that. The Echo Room is a simple classroom - four walls, chairs, white board, the works.
    What makes it different is that when you are sensitive enough, you would notice that whatever you say in this place echoes. It's as if, there is this invisible person with a low, deep voice that repeats whatever you say in a much quieter fashion.
    Right now, that person is here again, stealing my words right after I utter them. He is listening intently, not missing anything. I'm sure he could hear the thundering of my heartbeat, considering how fast and loud it seems to be, attempting to slam right out of my chest, but he does not copy it. At least, my heartbeat is my own.
    Right now, I am uncomfortable. All eyes are on me already, I don't need the added pressure. But strange... I seem to draw comfort from that echo... hearing my own voice reflected calms me.
    Before long, the echo that is heard in the room is no longer my own. It is no longer the same but still strangely familiar.
    As I leave the room, I glance back and whisper and I hear the same words back at me and I smile because I know that we would meet again...in the Echo Room...


*Note: This is based on my Communication 3 (Practical Speech Fundamentals) class. I thought of this while listening to my other classmates deliver their speech.