The First Bell

The school gates creaked as Mia stepped inside, her flashlight trembling in her hand. The once-proud building now looked like a corpse—windows shattered, walls smeared with dried, rust-colored stains. A suffocating silence wrapped around her, broken only by the sound of her own heartbeat.

Rumors had spread for years: students disappearing, teachers vanishing without a trace, classrooms locked forever. Yet no one dared to confirm the stories. Tonight, Mia had no choice. She had to find the truth.

The moment she crossed the hallway, the air turned cold. Desks lay overturned, papers scattered like forgotten screams. On the blackboard, written in blood-red letters, were the words: “WELCOME BACK.”

Mia froze. She hadn’t touched the chalk. She wasn’t alone.

A faint sound echoed—a child’s laugh, sharp and broken. She turned, but the hallway was empty. Then came the bell. Ding… Dong… Slow. Hollow. A bell that should have been broken years ago.

Her breath quickened as footsteps echoed behind her. She spun around, but saw nothing. Shadows danced along the walls, stretching like claws reaching for her. The smell of iron filled the air.

Then, she saw it. A figure, standing at the end of the hallway—its face hidden, its hands dripping with blood.

“Why did you come back?” the voice asked, low and chilling.

The flashlight flickered, and when the light returned… the figure was gone.

But the message on the blackboard had changed.

Now it read: “YOUR TURN.”

Mia stumbled back, her flashlight trembling. The words on the blackboard—YOUR TURN—burned into her mind like fire. Her legs felt weak, but she forced herself to move, the beam of light sweeping across the hallway. Every shadow seemed alive, slithering along the walls, waiting for her to fall.

She whispered to herself, “It’s not real… it’s just my imagination.” But even her own voice sounded foreign, swallowed by the heavy silence.

Her phone vibrated suddenly in her pocket. She yanked it out with shaking hands. The screen lit up, but there was no signal. Instead, a notification appeared.

Unknown sender: Don’t run. It’s already inside.

Mia’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered as she dropped the phone to the floor, the screen cracking. The hallway stretched before her like a tunnel with no end.

Then she noticed it—one classroom door slightly open. Room 3-B.

Her body screamed at her to leave, to escape while she could, but her feet betrayed her, dragging her toward the door. She pushed it open with a trembling hand.

Inside, the classroom was worse than the hall. Desks were overturned, blood smeared across the walls, and the floor was sticky with dried stains. On one of the desks sat an old yearbook. Its cover was torn, but the title was clear: “St. Claire High – Class of 2005.”

Mia opened it, flipping through the yellowed pages. Faces of smiling students stared back at her. But halfway through, she froze. Every single picture had been slashed through with deep red ink—except one.

Her mother’s face.

Mia’s eyes widened. Her mother had never told her she studied here. The pages beneath were stuck together. When she forced them open, more writing appeared. Names. Lists. And at the bottom:

“Revenge begins with blood.”

The classroom door slammed shut behind her.

Mia spun around, panic rising. She rushed to the door, pulling at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Then, from behind the teacher’s desk, came the sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate, heavy.

The air turned suffocating. The windows darkened as though night itself pressed against the glass.

And then… a voice whispered right into her ear, though no one stood near her.

“Your family started this… now you’ll finish it.”

The lights went out .

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