The School With No Escape

Someone once said: "Youth is like a sudden summer rain; even if you catch a cold, you’d still want to return and soak in it once more." But if your youth begins with sitting on a decrepit bus next to a black cat staring you down the entire journey, then I’m sorry, I’d rather drop out. The Saigon sky in September was strangely gloomy. On the horizon, grey clouds swirled like a pack of predators lying in wait-heavy, dense, and brooding. Wind whistled through the rusted iron gates, dragging along creaking groans that sounded like the sighs of someone long forgotten. Before me stood the school’s nameplate, eroded by time: the paint was peeling, thick green moss covered it, and only a few words remained dimly legible: “Bạch Dạ... High School...” I gripped my backpack straps tight. Stood still. The gate ahead was slightly ajar, like an invitation-or a trap. I couldn’t say for sure yet. This school was once an internet sensation, famous not for its academic records but for a series of blurry videos, photos, and spine-chilling stories: possessed students; lullabies echoing from the third-floor restroom at midnight; or a Physics teacher who, after a lecture on “energy transfer,”... transferred himself right down into a bottomless basement. All of it, naturally, was denied by the school. “False rumors, not real.” But in Vietnam, everyone knows-the more strongly something is denied, the higher the chance it is "real." Me–a student who graduated middle school with a 9.0 GPA-never thought I’d one day stand before a place looking no different from a Thai horror movie set. The lime walls were blotchy, windows silent like dead eyes, and from within, a creepy chill was seeping out. Maybe it was the wind. Or... something else. I took a deep breath and stepped through the half-open iron gate. The hinges creaked, slow and heavy, like someone whispering behind me. “It’s fine,” I told myself. “Only three years... at worst, it’s just ghosts. And it’s not like... I haven’t encountered them before.” The reassurance sounded dry, failing to drown out my racing heartbeat. Inside, another voice screamed: “You’ve come this far; if you run now, what will the whole clan think of you? You have to prove yourself, at least once in your life!” Because I understood that in my world, news travels faster than the wind. The moment I stepped into the courtyard, a chill immediately seeped into my skin. The air inside was vastly different from the outside, as if I had just crossed an invisible membrane-a thin boundary between reality and... somewhere else. A massive old flamboyant tree stood lonely in the middle of the desolate yard, its trunk twisted, and though its leaves were lush green, they cast a heavy, suffocating black shadow. At its base, something made me freeze: deep, jagged gouges ran all along the trunk, looking as if someone had tried to claw into the thick, gnarled bark with their fingernails. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes away. Don't overthink. Don't imagine. But the silence here made every thought ring out with crystal clarity. There wasn't a single student in the yard. No voices, no laughter, no sounds of life. Only my footsteps-dry and solitary-echoed across the vast, stretching courtyard. Then, from somewhere above, came a sound: “knock... knock... knock...” A rhythmic tapping, distant yet distinct. “Probably just a repairman...” I muttered, then began chanting a mix of prayers-from “Dear Lord” to “Amitabha Buddha.” I tried to walk faster until-until I stopped. At the end of the ground-floor hallway, a door was slowly creaking open. There was no wind, and no one there. Yet the doorknob turned slowly, then groaned... as if someone were inside. I took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. Because if I turned around, it would be a silent signal... that I could see them. I rushed toward the stairs, not daring to look back. Then-amidst that silence-a small laugh echoed from behind. Very soft. Very close. A child’s voice. I froze. The hair on my neck stood on end. The air around me grew heavy and suffocating, each breath smelling of stale mold. I just wanted a normal student life... Why did fate throw me into this place? SMACK! A hand suddenly clamped onto my shoulder, nearly sending me sprawling. I spun around, my heart dropping into my stomach. Standing before me was a man in a security uniform. He looked young, probably thirty at most. He was tall and thin with slumped shoulders and skin as pale as someone long-term ill. His eyes were sunken, and in the dim light, his pupils reflected a silvery-grey glint that made me catch my breath. “Where are you going?”-His voice was deep and raspy, neither loud nor soft, but so cold it gave me goosebumps. “Which class?” “I... I’m a new student. Class 10A12,” I stammered. The guard fell silent for a moment, as if weighing something. Then, he gave a slight nod. “Class 10A12 is at the end of the block. Follow me.” He turned and walked ahead, his footsteps perfectly rhythmic yet completely silent despite the heavy security boots. I followed closely behind, my heart feeling heavy. Along the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickered in intervals, casting a ghostly blue-white glow-just enough for me to see patches of wall paint peeling like shedding human skin. The entire corridor was silent. No wind. No human voices. Only the "click... click..." sound echoed every time the overhead lights blinked. "Is today your first day?" The guard asked, his voice slightly gentler than before. "Yes..." He gave a thin smile, his lips curling slightly-but his eyes remained hollow. "You're quite brave." Oh, I could certainly see the reason "why." After walking a bit, he stopped in front of a classroom door with a small glass pane. The door was painted black, and the "10A12" class sign was scratched and faded, leaving only a few pale silver strokes. The guard turned around and looked down at me. He was so close that I could clearly see the tiny veins beneath his pale, sickly skin. "We're here," he said softly. "Don't wander around anymore in the future; it's not safe." Before I could react, he had already left, his tall, thin silhouette merging into the dark hallway as if vanishing. I stood frozen before the door, my heart thumping in my chest. The surrounding air felt thick and heavy, making every breath a struggle. My nostrils were filled with the metallic scent of rust mixed with long-standing damp mold-the familiar smell of places long forgotten, where light no longer seems to visit. Just as I hesitantly reached out, my fingers barely brushing the ice-cold doorknob... A voice suddenly rang out behind me, so bright and full of life that it completely clashed with the gloomy atmosphere, making me jump and nearly scream at the top of my lungs: “Hey! You the new student? I’ve been waiting forever!” I spun around. Standing before me was a lanky young man, thin but sturdy, with black hair styled in a messy mohican that looked rebellious and... entirely out of place here. He stood with hands on his hips, grinning carefree. The weak hallway light cast a faint glow over his face, making it light up strangely-as if he didn't belong to the surrounding darkness. “I’m Khôi, the monitor of class 10A12,” he introduced himself, his voice cheerful and natural, as if he were standing in the middle of the schoolyard during recess rather than in this freezing corridor. “Outside of class, I take on a few side gigs: welcoming new students, selling rumors, and...” Khôi tilted his head, giving a mischievous wink. “Assisting with exorcisms... light level.” I stood frozen for a few seconds, my brain processing the information slowly and with deep suspicion. “...Light level what?” Khôi only laughed-a smile so confident it was suspicious-and placed a hand on my shoulder. The gesture wasn't sudden, yet the touch still gave me goosebumps and made my heart skip a beat. “Don't worry,” he said. “You’ll get used to it. Bạch Dạ High School has many... rather strange things going on.” Before I could react or ask any more questions, Khôi dragged me straight ahead. His steps were brisk and decisive, while I could only follow blindly, trying my best not to look back. Ahead was the door to class 10A12. The frosted glass reflected silhouettes flickering inside-pale faces sitting as still as wax figures. A wave of suffocating air wafted from the door gap, making me shiver. A bizarre and gruesome thought flashed through my mind-like a simmering pot of human bone soup: thick, heavy, and faintly smelling of an unnameable metallic scent. I had just reached out, my fingertips not yet tightening around the handle, when a familiar sensation flooded my mind. The image appeared without warning, like a layer of filthy mist suddenly clouding my vision. I saw a dark corner of the classroom where the light couldn't reach. There stood a girl, silent. An old uniform clung to her thin frame, the fabric frayed and spotted with dark stains. Long, tangled hair hung down, completely obscuring her face, making it impossible to tell where her eyes or mouth were-if they existed at all. The girl did nothing. She just stood there motionless, like a part of the room, as if she had existed in that corner for a very long time. But I knew one thing for sure: her presence was far from harmless. It was like the feeling of being stared at from behind, even when you aren't looking. I jerked back, gasping for air. My heart pounded so hard my ears rang; a chill ran down my spine, and sweat soaked through my shirt. Damn it... not again. This cursed ability always appears at the worst possible moments, giving me no chance to prepare before throwing me headlong into things I never wanted to see. Khôi didn't seem to pay any attention to my reaction. He nonchalantly pushed the door open-the hinges letting out a dry creak-and laughed out loud with excitement: “New person is here! Fresh-faced and rosy, still 'fresh off the boat' everyone!” That somewhat peculiar introduction immediately shattered the classroom's silence. Murmurs began to rise, scattered at first but quickly blending into the familiar hum of a pre-class period. I followed Khôi inside, only to realize that the classroom was not as gloomy as I had imagined while out in the hallway. Rows of old wooden desks and chairs, their surfaces scratched by the marks of time, were neatly arranged under the faint sunlight filtering through the windows. Tiny dust motes drifted in the air, sparkling as they caught the light, making the room look strangely peaceful. About forty students were scattered around: some were dozing off at their desks, others huddled in groups whispering, while one group giggled as they watched something on a phone. At the back row, some boys were tossing crumpled paper scraps back and forth, small laughs breaking out amidst the screeching of chairs against the tiled floor. Everything before me was completely different from the blurry, motionless silhouettes reflected through the glass moments ago. The atmosphere was no different from any normal classroom I had ever known-it even felt so familiar that I almost forgot what had just happened. And strangely enough, the teacher had yet to appear. I swallowed hard, my throat as dry as if I had swallowed sand. It took a lot of effort to force a crooked smile as I stepped up to the podium under the silent gaze of the entire class. “Hello... hello everyone,” I spoke, my voice noticeably cracking. “My name is Trần Hoàng Thiên Luân... I just moved here from the countryside. I... I hope we can get along.” As soon as I finished, the class remained eerily silent. No one clapped, yet no one looked annoyed either. At the front desk, a boy wearing glasses nudged the frames up the bridge of his nose. He stared at me more intensely than necessary, his gaze behind the lenses lingering on my face for an uncomfortably long time, as if comparing me to some image in his mind. Then he looked down, took a small notebook out of his bag, opened it, and calmly scribbled a few lines in neat, careful handwriting-just like he was taking lecture notes. But occasionally, I still caught his gaze flickering up, scanning the class before pausing on me for one more beat, then looking down to continue writing. On the other side, a group of girls huddled together. One leaned in, whispering rapidly into another’s ear. When I accidentally looked their way, they went dead silent simultaneously. One girl turned to me and smiled-a smile too perfect, too polite, as if it had been practiced in front of a mirror for hours. A few giggles rang out somewhere, very soft, very light, enough that no one could identify who was laughing or what it was about. Some avoided my eyes as soon as I looked at them. Others did the opposite-staring unblinkingly, as if I were a strange object just placed in the middle of this familiar classroom. I stood on the podium, my smile frozen, my hands cold. I didn’t know what else to say. At first glance, it seemed normal, but the more I thought about this cold sensation, the more it felt wrong. A single thought echoed clearly and urgently, almost becoming a voice: “I officially want to go back to the countryside. Right now.”