Three friends break into an abandoned high school after hearing rumours of a light in the old chemistry room. Inside, they find a strange gap in the wall and something whispering from behind it.
No one was supposed to be in the old high school after dark. It leaned at the edge of the neighbourhood like a forgotten tooth, its windows blind, its brickwork cracked, its playground swallowed by weeds. Even in daylight, the place had a stale, uneasy feel. At night, it looked less abandoned than waiting.
For Olga, Simon, and Lena, that only made it more tempting.
The rumour had spread between lessons and survived the whole school day: someone had seen a light burning in one of the old chemistry rooms. Not a reflection. Not a trick of the windows. A real light. Simon had brought it up at break with that look he used when he was daring the others to back down. By evening, none of them could admit they were curious. Curiosity, after all, was easier to wear than fear.
June air hung warm over the broken fence as they slipped through a torn section of netting and into the courtyard. Crickets sang so loudly it almost drowned out the quick thud of their footsteps. Inside, the corridors stretched in long, dim lines, every sound bouncing back at them with a delay that made the building seem alive. Olga went first, torch raised, sweeping the beam over peeling walls and locked classroom doors. Simon tried to make jokes, but they came out thin. Lena brought up the rear, gripping an old camera with both hands as if it might steady her heartbeat.
When they reached the chemistry room, the air changed. It was colder there, and stiller. Dust lay over the counters, over broken glass, over rows of empty cupboards with their doors hanging open like mouths. For a moment, nothing moved. Then Lena stopped so abruptly that Simon nearly walked into her.
"Look at that," she whispered.
At the back wall, between two cracked plaster panels, a narrow gap had opened in the tiles. It hadn’t been there before. Pale light leaked through it in a thin, wavering line. Beneath it came a soft noise, half rustle, half laugh, as if someone on the other side were trying very hard not to be heard. Olga felt the torch tremble in her hand. Simon swallowed and stepped closer anyway.
Then a whisper slid out from the gap, clear as breath against skin: a voice speaking from inside the wall.
All three froze. Something shifted behind the plaster, slow and deliberate, scraping softly as though it had just realised they were there.