Tosiek slips into an abandoned school after dark with Zuza and Igor, chasing a rumour about voices trapped in the walls. In the deepest corridor, something answers back.
Tosiek had always thought the unknown was something to face, not avoid. That idea felt impressive right up until he stood in front of the tall, rotting doors of the old school, after dark, with his torch shaking in his hand.
The building had been empty for years, but everyone in town still had a story about it. Some said the corridors kept the echoes of old emotions, laughter caught in the walls, crying trapped in the stairwells, shouting that never quite died away. Most people laughed when they said it. Nobody went in to check.
That was exactly why Tosiek, Zuza, and Igor were there.
Their torches carved thin circles through the darkness as they pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The air smelled of dust, damp plaster, and something colder they couldn’t name. At first they tried to joke about it, each of them pretending they were braver than they felt. But the jokes died quickly, swallowed by the empty hall.
Tosiek led the way, counting his steps without meaning to. Every sound seemed too loud: their shoes scraping the floor, Igor swallowing hard, Zuza’s breath coming a little too fast. When they reached the main corridor, a sharp chill slid over Tosiek’s skin.
Old class photos still hung on the walls, yellowed and crooked. Then one of them suddenly tore free and crashed to the floor.
Igor jumped back with a curse.
“It’s only a draft,” Zuza said, but her voice cracked on the last word.
Tosiek lifted his torch. At the far end of the corridor, something glinted briefly in the dark, just enough to catch the light and vanish again. Then came a sound so soft he almost thought he imagined it.
A whisper.
Not from one of them. Not from the hallway.
From behind the door on the left.
And this time, it said Tosiek’s name.