A Haunted School

The Whispers From The Dead

"From the history of this site, it's known that this place used to be a cemetery," said Mr. Smith.

"We all know that," Ahmed replied.

"So yes, here’s my point," Mr. Smith continued. "This school was built over those cemeteries, and judging by the way things are, I believe they’re the reason this place is haunted."

"Who said that?" Mr. Ahmed questioned. "You may be wrong about that being the reason."

"No?" Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow. "If you remember well, this school was once owned by one Mr. Nobleman—known for his mischief, evil, and treachery. He was the Duke of Orkalis, though wrongfully so. He fought his brother and seized the throne. You may have read about him, maybe not. His reign was dark, as many would say. He was infamous for burning old women alive, accusing them of witchcraft, and for making women dance in red-hot iron shoes. Many say he was the devil himself. During his dukedom, he saw the cemetery and built this magnificent school over it."

He lowered his voice.

"He was a sorcerer, known for his writings on witchcraft. But there’s one part of his tale that remains incomplete—he encountered a powerful sorceress. No one knows what happened after that."

"And then the Church took over the school after centuries, didn’t it?" asked Fr. Athanasius.

"Yes. But the exorcism wasn’t done properly..."

"Mr. Principal," Fr. Athanasius interrupted, "you must be joking. How could you say an exorcism wasn’t done properly?"

"I believe it wasn’t. That’s what scares me," Mr. Smith said gravely.

"Even if it’s true, that’s not enough reason to fear," Fr. Athanasius replied.

"It is, Father. I picked up this book near Ophelia Hall... at midnight." He raised the book for the others to see.

"O Jesus!" Father Athanasius exclaimed. "Can you open it?"

"No!" Smith answered quickly. "It’s covered in what looks like tangled veins. Its edges are sharp and terrifying. I haven’t dared to open it."

"I’ll take it with me. Happy day," said the priest, exiting with the book.

Meanwhile, Robin turned to Albert and said cheerfully, "The popular Latin saying Mens sana in corpore sano, meaning ‘a healthy mind in a healthy body,’ is not something to joke about. Come along with me to do some exercises and solve puzzles—it’ll sharpen our thinking!"

"Don’t feel like it," Albert replied.

"Alright then, I’ll head to class alone."

But when Robin arrived at class, Albert was already seated and chatting.

"How on earth did you get here, Albert? I left you in the hostel. There’s only one path from the hostel to class that I know of. How did you get here so quickly?" Robin asked in disbelief.

Albert remained silent.

"You give me no response? There’s something strange about your new trick, and I want to know what it is."

Later, Mr. Smith voiced his concern. "The final-year students are troubling me. They bully the juniors terribly. The number of bullying cases I’ve received this term is disheartening. I don’t know what to do anymore. Expelling them only seems to make it worse."

"As for me," replied Fr. Athanasius, "it’s not that I have bad advice—I just don’t have any advice at all. But let’s leave that for later. We have a more serious matter and a mystery to solve."

"But how do we solve it, Father?"

"All we need is wisdom," Fr. Athanasius said solemnly. "That’s why I often say the Serenity Prayer: 'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.' It means a lot to me."

"I read the book you gave me last night. Maybe it was a mistake... but I don’t think so. While reading, the lights in my room went out. My doorknob locked itself, and my torch refused to work when I pointed it at the book. I felt trapped."

He paused, then added, "But the book works with imagination. The demons described... they were terrifying. It’s all so mysterious."

"That’s why they’re demons," Mr. Smith replied grimly. "I found something else at the disposal site—another book. It had a key and a map inside. The rest of the pages were blank."

"If that’s true," said Fr. Athanasius, "then I suspect that site is some kind of gateway."

Robin looked thoughtful. "While flipping through the first book, I saw a page with my name on it. Underneath it was written: ‘Since you pray to accept the things you cannot change, Father, then you must not act foolishly—for you cannot change what is beyond you.’"

He hesitated.

"Then I saw a picture that shook me. It showed me—my exact self—hanging from a high place. According to the caption, the man in the image gave his life as a sacrifice, not as a murder victim."

He looked disturbed.

"What haunts me," he added, "is why the man sacrificed himself. A sacrifice for what?"

"Maybe it isn’t you," Smith offered gently. "But someday, you’ll understand."

"I’m not confused anymore," Athanasius whispered. "It’s me."

Smith leaned closer. "Can you recall... the vision you once told me?"

"Yes. I remember."

"How did you come to know about it?"

"It was from history," Athanasius answered.

"How do you mean?"

"Everywhere holds a tale. Somewhere near this school... something once happened."

"Hmm..." Mr. Smith murmured.

"Maybe I was hallucinating when I told you," Athanasius admitted. "Let’s not argue about it. Let me have your latest discovery."

"Discovery? What discovery?" Smith asked, puzzled.

"You forget so quickly—the book, the map, and the key you found."

---

Days Later...

After Fr. Athanasius took the items from Smith, strange things began to happen. One cold night, after drinking coffee, he stepped out to check his carrot garden. Before he reached it, he noticed a figure standing inside—a figure in a jacket, facing away.

He approached cautiously.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

It was a half-being—standing upright, but missing its lower half. No legs. Blood dripped from where its body had been cut off. It had a horrifying face, split into two—half human, half beast—with gnashing, jagged teeth.

The creature twisted its neck unnaturally and turned toward him.

Athanasius fled, tripping multiple times before making it inside. Shaken, he studied the map from Smith under torchlight. But then the torch dimmed. A lullaby began playing from a speaker—yet there was no power. He hated lullabies. He turned it off.

He sat again, trying to read.

Moments later, the torch went out completely.

His rocking chair began to sway. The piano played itself. Footsteps echoed around him.

Then the torch flicked back on... and he saw them.

The creatures from the garden now surrounded the room.

His heart leapt. He screamed and collapsed into a trance.

---

The Book of Blood

Days after, as Fr. Athanasius opened the book, its sharp edges cut his hand. Blood dripped—not to the floor—but directly onto the center of the book. It was as though the book drank the blood, and in that moment, it opened.

Each page felt impossibly heavy, yet the book remained light.

Inside, he saw the same creature again—the half-being, with peeling skin and rotting flesh, yet fresh blood continued to ooze from it.

Underneath the image was a watermark. Barely visible.

And then—everything went black.