Room 407

Room 407 CHAPTER ONE The Diary The gates of Ashwood University welcomed hundreds of freshmen that Monday morning, but Celeste Ohia noticed only one thing. She was finally here. Her father placed her suitcase on the pavement and smiled. “Call your mother every day.” “I’ll try.” “Not ‘try.’ Call.” She laughed and hugged both her parents before watching their car disappear through the gates. Taking a deep breath, she wheeled her suitcase into Hawthorne Hall. The residence hall was older than every other building on campus. Dark wooden floors stretched across the lobby, and portraits of former principals lined the walls. Behind the reception desk sat a young woman wearing a name tag. MAYA BENNETT Resident Assistant. “Welcome to Hawthorne Hall,” Maya said warmly. “Name?” “Celeste Ohia.” Maya typed for a moment. Then she froze. She looked at the computer. Then at Celeste. Then back at the computer. Without saying a word, she reached into a drawer and pulled out an old brass key. A faded wooden tag hung from it. 407. Maya hesitated before sliding it across the desk. “Fourth floor.” Celeste frowned. “Is something wrong?” Maya forced a smile. “No… just an old room.” It wasn’t a convincing answer. The elevator was out of service. By the time Celeste reached the fourth floor, she was already regretting bringing two heavy suitcases. As she walked down the hallway, conversations around her slowly faded. A boy carrying a laundry basket glanced at her key. His smile faded . Two girls standing outside their room lowered their voices. “…She’s in 407.” “I thought nobody stayed there anymore.” “Apparently someone does now.” They stopped talking the moment Celeste looked at them. She rolled her eyes and frowned. Weird. Room 407 stood alone at the end of the corridor. Fresh paint covered the door, but the brass handle looked worn from years of use. Celeste unlocked it. The room was… ordinary. Two beds. Two desks. A wardrobe. Large windows overlooking the forest behind the university. She laughed quietly. “So this is what everyone was scared of?” After all the strange looks she’d received, she expected something far worse. She unpacked a few clothes and placed her family photo on the desk. The silence in the room felt different now that she was alone. Not frightening. Just… Heavy. As she opened the wardrobe to hang the rest of her clothes, something slipped from the top shelf. It landed on the floor with a soft thud. “A notebook?” It was old. Its black leather cover was cracked with age, and dust clung to its edges as though it hadn’t been touched in years. There was no title. Only a name written in faded blue ink. Emily Carter. Curiosity got the better of her. She opened the first page. The handwriting was neat but hurried. If you’re reading this… then you’re staying in Room 407. A small smile crossed Celeste’s face. Someone had left behind a diary. Probably another student’s. She turned the page. Her smile quickly vanished. Whatever you do… don’t let them know you found this diary. The room suddenly felt much quieter. Someone knocked three times on her door. Knock. Knock. Knock. Celeste’s head snapped toward the sound. She hadn’t told anyone she was here. CHAPTER TWO Three Knocks Celeste’s fingers tightened around the diary. The knocking came again. Knock. Knock. Knock. She stared at the door. Who could possibly know she was here already? For a moment, she considered pretending not to hear it. Instead, she took a cautious step forward and unlocked the door. The hallway was empty. No footsteps. No laughter. No one walking away. Only the long corridor stretching beneath the dim ceiling lights. “Hello?” she called. Silence. A chilly breeze drifted through the hallway, carrying the faint scent of rain. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Celeste was about to close the door when something caught her eye. A folded piece of paper lay on the floor. She was certain it hadn’t been there a second ago. She picked it up. There were only three words written in black ink. Read page thirteen. A chill crept up her spine. She looked both ways down the corridor. Still no one. Heart pounding, she stepped back into her room and locked the door. The diary lay open on her desk exactly where she’d left it. With trembling fingers, she flipped through the yellowed pages until she reached page thirteen. Unlike the others, most of the page had been torn out. Only a small piece remained. Three shaky lines were still readable. They’ve started knocking. Don’t answer after dark. They’ll know you’re curious. Celeste frowned. “They?” The rest of the page had been ripped away. She searched the diary, hoping to find the missing piece tucked between the pages. Nothing. A sudden buzz from her phone made her jump. It was Caleb. Her heart became at ease. She answered almost immediately. “So,” he said, “how’s your first day?” Celeste glanced at the diary. “…Interesting.” “That’s not how excited people usually sound.” She hesitated. “I found something in my room.” “What?” “An old diary.” Caleb laughed. “So your roommate from ten years ago liked journaling.” “It’s… a little stranger than that.” Before she could explain, someone knocked again. Three slow knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Caleb stopped talking. “What was that?” Celeste swallowed. “I… I think someone’s at my door.” “Go check.” She walked toward the door without taking her eyes off it. Slowly, she opened it. Again… No one. But this time, something else was there. Taped to the center of the door was a small photograph. It showed six students standing outside Hawthorne Hall. They were smiling at the camera. On the back, someone had written in red ink: Five of us left. One never did. Celeste looked back at the photograph. She counted again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Then she noticed something that made her blood run cold. Every face in the picture was clear… Except one. Someone had carefully scratched that person’s face completely away. CHAPTER THREE Emily Carter That night,Celeste didn’t sleep. The photograph remained on her desk, its scratched-out face seeming to stare back at her every time she looked away. Who had left it? And how had they done it without her hearing a single footstep? What’s going on? By morning, she had convinced herself of one thing. Someone was playing a cruel prank. That explanation was easier to believe than anything else. The campus buzzed with excitement as orientation officially began. Students laughed, exchanged phone numbers, and rushed between buildings carrying maps of Ashwood University. Celeste tried to focus. She really did. But every few minutes, her mind wandered back to the diary hidden beneath her mattress. When orientation ended, she headed straight for the university library. If Emily Carter had really lived in Room 407, there had to be some record of her. The librarian smiled politely. “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for old student yearbooks.” “What year?” Celeste hesitated. “I’m… not sure.” The librarian pointed toward a dusty shelf at the back of the room. “We keep all of them there.” An hour later, books surrounded her. She flipped through class after class, scanning hundreds of smiling faces. Then she found her. Emily Carter. Second-year Literature student. Bright smile. Shoulder-length dark hair. Exactly the same girl from the diary. Celeste quickly searched for the group photograph. There it was. The same six students. Only this time… No one’s face had been scratched out. She leaned closer. One name caught her attention. Lucas Reed. The student standing beside Emily. His smile looked forced. Almost nervous. Celeste turned the page, hoping to find more information. Instead, a folded newspaper clipping slipped from between the pages. She unfolded it carefully. The headline read: ASHWOOD STUDENT MISSING. The article had been cut off, but one sentence remained. “University officials have declined to comment…” The rest had been torn away. A voice behind her made her jump. “You’re asking dangerous questions.” Celeste spun around. It was Elias. He glanced at the newspaper clipping in her hand before quietly taking the seat opposite her. “You knew Emily?” Celeste asked hesitantly. “No.” “But you know who she is.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked around the library to make sure no one was close enough to hear. Then he leaned forward. “Whatever you’ve found…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “…stop looking, immediately .” “Why?” “Because someone always notices.” A cold feeling settled in Celeste’s stomach. “What do you mean?” Elias stood. “I’ve already said too much.” He hurriedly walked away ay without another word, Leaving Celeste wondering. That evening, Celeste hurried back to Hawthorne Hall. The fourth-floor corridor was unusually quiet. She unlocked Room 407 and froze. The room looked exactly as she’d left it… Except for one thing. Her desk chair had been pulled away from the table. She was certain she’d pushed it in before leaving. Trying to stay calm, she checked the wardrobe. Nothing. She looked beneath the beds. Nothing. Finally, she reached under her mattress. The diary. It was still there. She let out a breath of relief. Then she noticed a small white envelope resting on top of it. It hadn’t been there before. There was no name. No stamp. No handwriting. Only a single key inside. A tiny brass key with the number 13 engraved on it. Folded beneath the key was a note. Just one sentence. You have until Friday to stop reading Emily’s diary. Celeste’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She looked toward the door. Slowly… Very slowly… The doorknob began to turn.