Tales from the Dark

15.

At Hollow Creek High, rumors swirled about the abandoned wing of the school. Once bustling with activity, it had been closed off after a series of unsettling incidents: unexplained noises, lights flickering, and a lingering sense of dread. The rest of the school had moved on, but a few students couldn't resist the pull of the forgotten hallways. One gloomy afternoon, as storm clouds gathered overhead, a group of sophomores—Ella, Ryan, and Marcus—decided to explore the forsaken area. They had heard the stories, but curiosity overshadowed their fears. They approached the locked doors, now slightly ajar, as if inviting them in. Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. Faded posters hung limply from the walls, their colors long forgotten. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet, echoing in the silence. A faint smell of mildew lingered, wrapping around them like a shroud. They stepped into a hallway lined with lockers, rusted and covered in grime. Shadows danced along the walls as flickering lights overhead buzzed sporadically. The atmosphere was heavy, almost alive, and a chill ran down Ella's spine. As they moved deeper into the wing, they discovered a classroom untouched by time. Desks were overturned, papers scattered across the floor, and a chalkboard remained covered with strange symbols. Intrigued, they examined the room, unaware of the eyes watching them from the shadows. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the hallway. Marcus jumped, his heart racing, and instinctively turned toward the sound. The others hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. A low, unintelligible whisper slithered through the air, sending shivers down their spines. Against their better judgment, they followed the sound down the corridor. The whispers grew louder, wrapping around them like fog, leading them to a door at the end of the hall. It was slightly ajar, the wood warped and cracked. They could see a flicker of light spilling through the gap. Ryan reached for the door, pushing it open just a fraction. Inside, an old science lab lay in disarray—broken glassware littered the counters, and dust covered every surface. But what caught their attention was the large tank in the corner, dark and foreboding. As they approached, the whispers turned into soft cries, pleading and mournful. Ella peered into the tank, her breath hitching in her throat. It was filled with murky water, but something moved beneath the surface—an indistinct shape, writhing slowly. In that moment, the lights flickered violently, plunging the room into darkness. Panic surged as they stumbled back, the whispers crescendoing into frantic screams. Shadows flickered around them, closing in, an invisible force pressing against their chests. Desperate to escape, they rushed back down the hallway, but the way seemed to shift, the exit growing farther away. Doors slammed shut, echoing like thunder, trapping them in a labyrinth of terror. The cries grew louder, mixing with their own frantic breaths. Marcus felt a cold hand grip his arm, a fleeting touch that sent him reeling. He turned to find nothing but shadows. Heart pounding, he pulled the others along, urgency pushing them forward. They stumbled back into the classroom, seeking refuge. But the whispers followed, circling them like vultures. Ella's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. In a flash of desperation, she noticed a window at the far end, slightly ajar. Without a second thought, they made their way toward it, the cries growing more desperate. As they reached the window, a loud crash resonated from behind them. The shadows surged, as if trying to drag them back into the darkness. They heaved the window open, adrenaline fueling their movements. One by one, they climbed through, gasping as they hit the cool grass outside. Once free, they sprinted away from the school, not daring to look back. The whispers faded into the distance, but a sense of dread lingered in the air. They reached the safety of the main building, breathless and shaken. In the days that followed, the experience haunted them. The whispers echoed in their minds, a chilling reminder of what lay hidden in the abandoned wing. Ella often found herself staring at the school, the memories twisting her stomach in knots. And as autumn deepened into winter, the whispers of Hollow Creek High transformed into a haunting melody—a warning that some doors, once opened, should never be crossed again. The shadows remained, waiting for the next curious soul to venture into their domain.