Barto squinted at the sky as dark clouds gathered overhead, their heavy presence casting long shadows across the road. The wind howled through the trees lining the path, leaves rustling like whispers from unseen lips. Barto barely registered the chill as he trudged forward, hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn jacket. Beside him, Ellie was talking animatedly with John and Bryan, their voices contrasting with the growing tension in the air.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Ellie asked, glancing at Bryan, who was holding a creased map.
Bryan shrugged, flashing a grin. "Yeah, the old boarding school should be just ahead. We'll reach it before the storm hits."
John snorted. "If we don't die of boredom first."
Nancy lagged behind, her arms crossed tightly around herself. "This place gives me the creeps," she muttered. "Can't we just turn back? It's not worth it."
Ellie shot her a reassuring smile. "It's just an old building. We'll check it out and head back. Besides, Barto doesn't seem scared."
Everyone looked at Barto, who remained impassive. He barely acknowledged them, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Emotions had always been foreign to him—a muted hum rather than a sharp sensation. Fear, excitement, even joy were concepts he understood but never truly felt.
Aiko, the quiet one of the group, hesitated before speaking. "My grandmother used to say that place was cursed. People went missing years ago. It's probably not safe."
"Urban legends," Charles scoffed, striding past Aiko with a smirk. "Ghost stories to scare kids. Don't let it get to you."
Dami adjusted his glasses, curiosity lighting up his face. "Actually, there's a documented history of the school being abandoned after a series of disappearances. Students vanished without a trace. They say it's haunted."
"Perfect," Lincoln muttered. "Nothing like a haunted school to make the trip worth it."
As they rounded a bend, the decrepit building loomed into view. Its gothic architecture was suffocated by overgrown vines, and the once-proud spires were cracked and tilted. The windows, dark and dusty, seemed like hollow eyes watching their approach. A cold gust rattled the iron gates, and Ellie pushed them open with a grunt.
"Welcome to Creepsville," John quipped.
The group shuffled inside, some more hesitant than others. Barto scanned the courtyard, noting broken statues covered in moss. A rusted fountain sat in the center, filled with stagnant, murky water. He felt nothing—no fear, no dread—just a peculiar sense of curiosity.
Inside the building, the air was thick with dust, and the wooden floors creaked beneath their weight. Bryan flicked on his flashlight, illuminating faded murals depicting students in uniform. The colors had long since faded, and in some places, the faces were scratched out.
"This place is ancient," Ellie whispered, running her fingers over a peeling wall.
"Yeah, and abandoned for good reason," Nancy muttered, clutching her phone as if it were a lifeline.
Charles laughed, kicking at an old desk. "Ghosts, huh? I bet it was just some psycho back in the day. People probably ran away from this dump."
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from upstairs. Everyone froze, exchanging uneasy glances.
"Did you hear that?" Aiko whispered, her face pale.
"Probably just the wind," Bryan said, though his voice wavered.
"Let's check it out," Ellie said, her athletic instincts pushing her forward. Barto followed without hesitation, his steps silent on the creaky stairs.
The hallway on the second floor was lined with lockers, most hanging open, their contents long gone. At the end of the corridor, they found a small office. Inside, the shelves were filled with old documents and faded photographs. One picture caught Barto's attention—a group of students, smiling at the camera. One face seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it.
Ellie nudged him. "Something wrong?"
Barto shook his head. "Nothing."
Dami pulled out a dusty leather-bound book from the shelf. "Hey, check this out." He opened it, revealing neat, looping handwriting. "It's a diary."
"Whose?" John asked, peering over his shoulder.
Dami squinted at the name. "Lila. Apparently, she was a student here."
As Dami read aloud, his voice dropped to a whisper. "She talks about rituals… something about contacting the 'Forgotten Ones' to make people notice her. She wrote that they answered, but things got… strange."
Nancy shivered. "Can we not read creepy stuff right now?"
Ignoring her, Dami continued. "She says the school changed after that night—students disappeared, and shadows began to move on their own."
Bryan scoffed. "It's just a story."
A loud crash interrupted him, coming from the next room. Startled, everyone turned. Barto walked to the door and pushed it open cautiously. The room was empty except for a broken window and scattered papers. A chill seemed to emanate from the dark corners.
Ellie swallowed. "Maybe… maybe we should stick together."
Barto picked up one of the scattered papers. It was a letter dated twenty years ago, warning the school administration about students claiming to see their own shadows moving independently.
Charles snatched the paper. "This is ridiculous. Shadows don't move on their own."
Just then, Aiko screamed. They whipped around to see her staring at the hallway mirror. In the reflection, their shadows seemed… wrong—distorted, almost as if they were reaching out. Barto's own shadow appeared rooted to the ground, while the others seemed to ripple unnaturally.
John tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked. "Okay… who's messing with us?"
A sudden bang reverberated through the floor, and the lights flickered, casting the shadows into bizarre shapes that seemed to breathe. Charles stomped toward the hallway. "Enough of this crap! It's just a trick!"
As he approached the mirror, his shadow seemed to extend unnaturally, forming a hand that reached out. He froze, his expression turning from anger to terror.
Barto narrowed his eyes. The air was colder now, and the faint hum of a tune filled the room—the melody from the music box they heard earlier. Ellie's face tightened with fear.
"We need to leave," Nancy whispered.
Barto didn't move, his mind processing the strange phenomena. The shadows, the music, the diary—it all connected somehow. He glanced at Sofia, who was staring at the mirror with an odd intensity. He couldn't shake the feeling that she knew more than she let on.
Before anyone could react, the door slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. Panic erupted, but Barto remained eerily calm, his mind already piecing together what the shadows meant. Somewhere in the dark, a voice that didn't belong to anyone in the group whispered, "You shouldn't have come here."