By: Isabella Rhian Tabuada
Publication: Nyasia Carim
Ghosts aren’t real.
There’s science behind it— it’s just not possible.
It’s all fiction, a figment of your imagination— born through the human fear of the unknown, the dark, and the dead.
But we were born curious.
Too curious.
However, curiosity has been one of mankind’s greatest strengths, hence why science has improved and evolved throughout the years. But, it has also been one of mankind’s greatest weaknesses. What a fickle thing curiosity is. A double-sided sword; a coin toss you dare to make, hoping that it would satisfy the craving to know.
So it was human to do so.
It was afternoon, classes had ended for all grade levels. My friends and I decided to venture back to the empty main building. We thought nothing of it, the sun was still up, and it’s common knowledge the dead only come out at night, right?
Surely nothing could go wrong.
“You think they’re real?”
No, of course not, I thought to myself, a small chuckle escaping my lips as we ventured into the empty hallway of the second floor.
It was boring at first. The school was still as we walked through each classroom, and the only sounds that accompanied us were the soft exhale and the silent pitter patter of the soles of our shoes hitting the cold tiled floor.
“Hey, let’s make this more fun.”
“How?”
We thought it would spice things up a bit– cause a little adrenaline rush in our veins; we dared each other that whoever got the short-end stick had to look at one of the classrooms. The three of us had our turns, peering through the window of the closed door, seeking answers and hoping to cure our gnawing curiosity.
“Nothing’s here.”
In the end, the second floor was vacant. The stories of children running up and about, or that kid who mindlessly haunted the halls, were nothing but mere talk.
“Should we even continue?”
Perhaps it was the human desire to move forward, to reveal what was hidden behind these closed walls whenever life was void of it.
“Yeah, let’s just-.”
Hah…aha…hah…aha…
“You hear that?”
We stopped, we had just taken the first step of the stairs up to the third floor.
Hahah…ahaha…hahaha…
“Don’t you think we should stop?”
There was this ugly sound of a lady– crying, or was she laughing? It was indistinguishable, but the sound sent shivers down our spines. You couldn’t identify if she found something amusing, or if she was in pain.
We took another step, and it had grown louder. Was she getting closer? Where was she?
No one was right behind us, no one had followed us when we had our little rendezvous we call a lousy type of ghost hunting.
Was it a teacher? An actor?
No, the voice doesn’t seem like it, it sounded earthly and even scratchy. It was like her throat had gone through something that had made it sound like…that.
The noises continued to escape her throat, they never once stopped; it had grown to be a grate in our ears, the high-pitched noise bringing forth both fear and unnerve. Yet even though, we strained our ears, hoping we would hear something between them.
Nothing, just pure laughter, or sobs– or whatever it was.
We stared at each other, and we took a step back down, and before we knew it, we had erupted on a full-on sprint, hurtling down the stairs and back to the grounds. The three of us looked for other companions, hoping that what we had collectively heard wasn’t just some delusion we had all concurred.
Weirdly enough, we passed through the third floor without hearing her anymore, even going as far as to walk through the cement floor of the gym without having her leave a trace of her existence.
Who was she?
Even then, why was she laughing? What had set her off? Why was she crying? What had caused her agony?
The questions remained unanswered as we parted ways, now heading back home.
The discovery of something that we thought wasn’t real had set off something in my stomach, the fear deep in my gut as suddenly everything around me was about her.
I can only hope that her voice won’t haunt me while I sleep. Not now, not ever.