Abhay shukla

The Last Light in Room 17 The first time Aarav saw the light in Room 17, he thought it was a mistake. It was 11:47 p.m., and the old school building stood completely dark except for a single yellow window on the third floor. Room 17 had been locked for twelve years. Everyone at St. Gabriel's Academy knew that. Aarav knew it better than most because his grandfather had been the school's caretaker before retiring. He had grown up hearing stories about the abandoned classroom: the broken clock that never moved past 9:13, the rusted cupboard nobody could open, and the strange rule that no student was ever allowed near the third-floor corridor after sunset. Most students treated those stories as jokes. Aarav didn't. He stood beneath the banyan tree outside the school gate, staring at the glowing window. Then his phone vibrated. One message. DON'T LOOK AT ROOM 17. Aarav froze. The number was unknown. He looked back at the window. The light disappeared. For several seconds, the entire building was black. Then the light came back. Three short flashes. Two long flashes. Three short flashes. Aarav remembered something his grandfather had once told him. "Some messages aren't meant to be read," his grandfather had said. "They're meant to be recognized." Aarav slowly pulled out his phone. He typed: WHO ARE YOU? The reply came immediately. YOU'RE ALREADY TOO LATE. Aarav stared at the screen. Behind him, the school gate creaked. He turned. Nobody was there. The gate was moving by itself in the wind. Or at least, that was what Aarav told himself. He stepped backward. His shoe touched something metallic. He looked down. A small brass key lay in the dirt. Attached to it was a faded paper tag. 17 Aarav picked it up. And somewhere inside the school, a bell rang. Once. Then again. Then a third time. The school had no electricity. The bell had been disconnected years ago. Aarav ran. --- The next morning, Aarav told nobody. Not his parents. Not his teachers. Not even his best friend, Kabir. He told himself there had to be a logical explanation. Someone had broken into the school. Someone had found an old generator. Someone was playing a prank. But there was one thing he couldn't explain. The key. He had kept it inside his backpack. At 7:30 a.m., while walking toward his classroom, Aarav checked the bag. The key was gone. He searched every pocket. Nothing. Then he heard someone whisper his name. "Aarav." He turned. Kabir was standing behind him. "You look like you've seen a ghost." "I didn't sleep." "Exam?" "No." Kabir grinned. "Then definitely a ghost." Aarav forced a laugh. Before he could say anything else, their history teacher entered the corridor. Mr. Sen was carrying a stack of papers. He stopped when he saw Aarav. For a moment, something like fear crossed his face. Then it vanished. "Aarav," he said quietly. "Come to my office after school." "Why?" "Just come." The teacher walked away. Kabir raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?" "Nothing." "That's exactly what guilty people say." Aarav watched Mr. Sen disappear around the corner. He suddenly remembered the message. YOU'RE ALREADY TOO LATE. --- At 3:20 p.m., Aarav knocked on Mr. Sen's office door. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. The door was unlocked. Inside, papers were scattered across the desk. A cup of tea sat beside an open book. The tea was still warm. "Sir?" No response. Aarav stepped inside. The room smelled strongly of old paper. On the desk was a photograph. A group of students stood in front of St. Gabriel's Academy. The picture was dated twelve years earlier. Aarav recognized the school building. But one student caught his attention. A boy stood at the edge of the group. He looked directly at the camera. His face was strangely familiar. Aarav picked up the photograph. On the back, someone had written: CLASS IX-B — THE NIGHT OF THE LOCKED DOOR Aarav's heart began beating faster. There was a knock behind him. He spun around. Mr. Sen stood in the doorway. His face was pale. "Put that down." Aarav obeyed. "What happened twelve years ago?" Mr. Sen closed the door. "Where did you hear about it?" "I didn't." "Then why are you asking?" Aarav hesitated. "Room 17." Mr. Sen's expression changed completely. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he walked to the window and pulled the curtains shut. "You saw the light." It wasn't a question. Aarav nodded. "Last night." Mr. Sen sat down. "You need to forget about it." "Why?" "Because people who tried to find out what happened twelve years ago regretted it." "What happened?" Mr. Sen looked at him. "A student disappeared." "Who?" "His name was Rohan Mehta." Aarav remembered the photograph. The familiar face. "That boy?" Mr. Sen nodded. "Rohan was fifteen. He was brilliant. Quiet. Always asking questions." "What happened to him?" "We were told he ran away." "But you don't believe that." Mr. Sen looked toward the closed curtains. "No." Aarav leaned forward. "What do you believe?" Before Mr. Sen could answer, the lights went out. The room became completely dark. Something scraped against the office window. Mr. Sen stood up suddenly. "Get down!" Aarav ducked. A second later, the window shattered. Glass scattered across the floor. Mr. Sen grabbed Aarav's arm. "Run!" They rushed into the corridor. Behind them, something hit the office door. Once. Twice. Three times. Then silence. Aarav looked back. A dark figure stood at the far end of the corridor. It was watching them. Mr. Sen whispered: "Don't let it see your face." They ran. --- That evening, Aarav met Kabir at a small tea shop near the school. He told him everything. Kabir listened without interrupting. When Aarav finished, Kabir didn't laugh. Instead, he pulled out his phone. "I found something." "What?" "Rohan Mehta." Kabir opened an old newspaper archive. There was an article about the disappearance. STUDENT MISSING FROM PRIVATE SCHOOL The article said Rohan had disappeared during an overnight school event. According to the school administration, he had left the campus sometime between 9:00 and 10:00 p.m. No one had seen him leave. His parents had searched for months. Then the case went cold. Kabir scrolled. "Look at this." A second article appeared. TEACHER RESIGNS AFTER DISAPPEARANCE The teacher was Mr. Sen. Aarav stared at the screen. "Why did he resign?" "The article doesn't say." "Search his name." Kabir did. Nothing useful appeared. Then he found an old discussion forum. One comment caught his attention. They locked the room because someone saw what happened. Another comment: The clock stopped at 9:13. A third: Rohan didn't run away. Kabir looked at Aarav. "This isn't a prank anymore." Aarav nodded. "No." They decided to return to the school that night. --- At 10:30 p.m., they climbed over the rear wall. The campus was silent. Moonlight fell across the empty playground. They reached the main building. Aarav held a flashlight. Kabir carried a backpack filled with tools. "You realize we're breaking into school, right?" "We're students." "That's worse." They climbed the stairs. First floor. Second floor. Then the third. The corridor was colder than the rest of the building. At the end stood a wooden door. A brass number was fixed to it. 17 Aarav pulled out his phone. 11:47 p.m. The same time as the previous night. Nothing happened. Kabir whispered: "Maybe we should leave." Then the lights came on. Not the corridor lights. The light inside Room 17. Aarav slowly inserted the brass key he had somehow found back inside his pocket. He hadn't put it there. He was certain. The lock clicked. The door opened. Inside was a classroom covered in dust. Old desks stood in rows. A blackboard filled the front wall. On it was a single sentence. YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COME BACK. Kabir swallowed. "Who is 'you'?" Aarav didn't answer. He walked toward the teacher's desk. Inside the drawer was an old notebook. The cover had one name written on it. ROHAN MEHTA Aarav opened it. Most pages were filled with mathematical equations. But near the end, the writing changed. The final page contained only three lines: I KNOW WHAT THEY DID. THE CLOCK IS THE KEY. IF I DISAPPEAR, DON'T TRUST THE TEACHERS. Kabir stared at the page. "Teachers?" A sound came from the corridor. Footsteps. Someone was walking toward them. Aarav turned off the flashlight. They hid behind the cupboards. The door opened. Mr. Sen entered. He stood in the doorway. For a moment, he simply looked around. Then he walked toward the blackboard. He erased the sentence. Behind it, hidden beneath the chalk, was a small metal panel. Mr. Sen opened it. Inside was a bundle of papers. Aarav held his breath. Mr. Sen took them and left. Kabir whispered: "We need to follow him." They waited. Then followed. --- Mr. Sen went downstairs. He crossed the courtyard and entered the old science building. Aarav and Kabir followed at a distance. Mr. Sen unlocked a storage room. Inside, he switched on a small lamp. Aarav looked through the doorway. Mr. Sen placed the papers on a table. Then someone else entered. The figure was wearing a dark coat. Aarav couldn't see the face. "You found them?" the figure asked. "Yes." "Then burn them." Mr. Sen hesitated. "I can't keep doing this." "You've been doing it for twelve years." "What happened to Rohan?" The figure stepped closer. "You know what happened." "I want to know where he is." Silence. Then the figure said: "He's closer than you think." Aarav's stomach tightened. Kabir accidentally stepped on a piece of glass. It cracked loudly. Both men turned. "Who's there?" Aarav grabbed Kabir. They ran. Footsteps thundered behind them. They raced through the corridor. Down the stairs. Across the courtyard. They reached