When We Meet A Ghost

Chapter 1 – The Whisper Behind the Science Block

The evening sky over Meeneshwari Public School had turned the color of wet clay, bruised with dark clouds. The last bell had rung nearly two hours ago, and the corridors were silent except for the rustle of leaves and the clank of a loose windowpane tapping in the wind.

In the far corner of the campus, away from the classrooms and the new assembly hall, stood the old science block — a two-story building left abandoned for years. The red bricks were blackened with age, creepers crawled up its cracked walls, and the faint smell of rust and rain drifted around it like a warning.

But for Aarav Sharma, that was exactly what made it exciting.

“Come on, Rohit,” he said, his flashlight swinging in hand, his voice more confident than he felt. “You always wanted an adventure, right? Well, here it is. Madhya Pradesh’s most haunted school corridor.”

Rohit, his best friend since Class 6, looked ready to faint. “Adventure? This is suicide, bhai! People say the ghost of that girl still cries in the lab. Remember? Anaya Deshmukh? The topper who disappeared ten years ago?”

Aarav grinned. “Exactly. A topper. Which means she was too smart to turn into a ghost.”

Behind them, Nisha Verma, the class topper of their batch, rolled her eyes. “You two are unbelievable. I only came because you were sneaking out with school flashlights. If the guard catches us, don’t you dare say I was part of this.”

Aarav turned dramatically. “Relax, Miss Topper. It’s not like we’re committing a crime. Just… conducting a practical of our own.”

She crossed her arms, her ponytail flicking like a whip. “Practical in ghost-hunting?”

Rohit muttered, “Or stupidity.”

The rain began to fall — light at first, then harder, pattering against the dusty windows. The sky grumbled. A flash of lightning illuminated the school grounds: the sports field half-flooded, the swings creaking, the yellow school bus parked like a sleeping animal near the gate.

For a moment, Aarav hesitated. The dark corridor ahead looked endless. Shadows flickered where there should have been none. But something — a mix of curiosity and courage — pushed him forward.

They entered.

The air inside was colder. The smell of damp plaster and old chemicals lingered. Broken beakers, rusted taps, and torn charts of the periodic table lay scattered across dusty benches.

“See?” Aarav said, forcing a chuckle. “Nothing but old junk. No ghosts, no screams. Just history.”

Nisha ran her finger along a wall, leaving a clean streak in the dust. “Maybe history wants to stay buried.”

Rohit shivered. “Can we please go? I’m getting goosebumps.”

But before anyone could reply, a faint tap-tap-tap echoed from the upper floor.

They froze.

It was soft but steady — like someone walking barefoot above them.

“Did you hear that?” Rohit whispered.

Aarav pointed the flashlight at the staircase. “Probably an animal. A cat, or a bat maybe.”

Nisha’s voice was barely audible. “Cats don’t wear anklets.”

There it was again. Chhan… chhan… The delicate sound of a payal.

Lightning flashed through the broken window, and for half a second, a white silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs — long hair, pale face, school uniform fluttering faintly.

Rohit gasped. Nisha clutched Aarav’s arm.

The figure didn’t move.

Then, slowly, her head tilted.

And she looked straight at them.

The beam of Aarav’s flashlight trembled as he raised it. The light hit her face — colorless skin, hollow eyes, a faint smile that looked both kind and broken.

“Why did you come back?” she whispered.

The voice wasn’t angry. It was sad.

And then — everything went dark.

---

When Aarav opened his eyes again, they were outside — running through the rain, their shoes splashing through puddles, hearts pounding like drums. None of them remembered exactly how they’d escaped the building.

By the time they reached the front gate, they were soaked and breathless. The security guard shouted something about curfew, but they didn’t stop. They just kept running until they reached the main road, where the flickering streetlights looked almost comforting.

Rohit was the first to speak. “I told you! I told you this place was haunted!”

Aarav leaned against the wall, trying to laugh but failing. “It was probably—”

“Don’t,” Nisha interrupted sharply. “Don’t say it was imagination. We all saw her. Same uniform, same eyes.”

For the first time, Aarav noticed her hands trembling. Her usual calm, confident self had vanished.

The rain softened to a drizzle. The three of them stood there in silence for a long time, the school behind them like a sleeping beast.

Aarav looked back at the old building through the mist. A single window on the upper floor glowed faintly — not lightning, not reflection, just a dim, unnatural light. And for a heartbeat, he thought he saw someone standing there again — watching them leave.

He blinked. The light was gone.

---

That night, Aarav couldn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her — the girl at the staircase. The sadness in her voice replayed in his head: “Why did you come back?”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a question.

A personal one.

As if she knew him.

He sat up, rubbing his face. His room was quiet except for the ticking of the wall clock. His textbooks lay scattered across the desk, unfinished homework still open. The rain had stopped, and the night outside was perfectly still.

And then — tap-tap-tap.

The same sound. Soft. Right outside his window.

Aarav froze. The curtains swayed slightly though the window was shut. His breath quickened. Slowly, he reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight.

The light revealed nothing but raindrops on the glass. He let out a shaky sigh.

But then he noticed something on his study desk — a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before.

It was a torn page from an old school notebook. The edges were yellow, the handwriting neat and cursive.

It read:

> “Meet me tomorrow. Behind the science block.”

— A.D.”

A chill ran down his spine.

He turned the note over, hoping to find some logical explanation — but the back was blank.

Aarav sat there, staring at the initials: A.D.

Anaya Deshmukh.

The same name from the school legend. The girl who had disappeared.

Somewhere outside, a dog barked. The wind howled through the neem trees.