Kenopsia—the eerie atmosphere that emanates from a completely abandoned place that once sheltered many people and was filled with noise and conversation.
I've read the article; I'm aware of what I'm doing—and yet, why? Why, for heaven's sake, am I here?? Is it really that hard for a person to stay away from something they know won't do them any good? Do we really have to be this self-destructive...?
And yet! Let me think logically and calmly for once in my reckless life. This is a school building. Nothing more than a school, which right now is a little… well, okay, very run-down and completely abandoned. It's not like I showed up late at night. I'm not here on someone else' whim or taking on a challenge. Except my own… I suppose. Since I'm here anyway, I might as well take a look around, just for a little while.
I take a tentative step and a piece of glass cracks under my sneakers. Good start. The stairs leading to the main hallway are carpeted with broken bricks, shattered glass, and plaster. It looks as if someone set out to tear the building down to its foundations but found the work to be too much.
To my right is a narrow room with a small wooden table, clearly visible since the glass is almost entirely gone. The door is hanging by a single hinge. I suppose this was the security guard's room. I step inside, and my suspicions are confirmed. On the table, covered in a thick layer of dust and plaster, sits a "Security" sign alongside the name of the former guard. I wonder what kind of person he was.
To the left of the small room is a staircase leading to the second floor. I chase it out of my mind for the time being, as I'd like to finish exploring the first floor first. I set off down the long hallway. On both sides there are an equal number of rooms—a cleaning staff room on the left, a storage room on the right, and, of course, classrooms. Their number plaques are either chipped or lying on the floor. Did certificates or paintings once hang on these now-bare, peeling walls? Did the spaces between the classrooms once house the school's pride—the hard work of quite a few students? Memories of my own high school flood my mind. Those were good times.
I sigh loudly with a wry smile. I miss the teachers—at least most of them—and, as ridiculous as it may sound, I miss rushing down the hallways to the next class. As was fitting, some of those classes were held in specialized labs. I was a complete failure when it came to chemistry, but oh, how I loved the room with all its test tubes lined up in display cases along the wall. That is, when they weren't grilling me on a low heat during exams. A very important factor. Oh, and the physics lab, too! How could I have forgotten? I had such a crush on the physics' teacher… A dangerous topic!
I shove such thoughts into the deepest recesses of my mind, where they belong. I didn't come here to reminisce about the past. So what exactly did I come here for? To prove to myself what an idiot I am? Right on the money!
I pick a random classroom and open the door. It falls to the ground with a loud crash, giving me a real scare. While I'm still recovering from the shock, a mouse, startled by the noise, scurries past me. Great—now I regret my "brilliant" decision even more. Where the hell did that mouse come from, anyway? I doubt it'll find any food here of all places.
I step over the wooden door lying on the dirty floor. The classroom is just a classroom—nothing particularly special. The teacher's desk, the big blackboard, the rows of desks, the lockers for students' belongings at the back of the room. Most of them are surprisingly locked. Only one is slightly ajar. Could the mouse have popped out from there? I walk past the desks and, carefully—praying that at least this little door is sturdier—open the locker all the way.
Now I'm praying for something entirely different. Why am I even praying?? I have to get out of here, now! I knew this a terrible idea! Whoever killed the man stuffed in the locker is very likely still lurking around. As much as I long for my high school days, this isn't what a proper return to school should be like!
"If you try to run, kid, it's going to hurt a lot more."
Damn it! I'm rooted to my spot, paralyzed even. The man is approaching with measured steps. I don't see him carrying a weapon, but that doesn't guarantee anything. Could I overpower him and escape? Maybe, if I stop shaking!
"Let me guess. You're here because of some stupid dare. TikTok or some other nonsens like that. You young people just haven't learned your lesson." The killer shakes his head in disappointment.
Instinctively, I look away and reluctantly direct my gaze toward the disfigured body in the locker.
"That's right. Your instincts are on point. I took the liberty of teaching a member of your generation a little lesson. You'll be next." The man grins and pulls out a bloodstained knife from one pocket on his worn jacket and brass knuckles from the other.
My first reaction at the sight of the weapons is to scream for help. Extremely smart in an abandoned and completely unguarded building. But that never happens. It's as if something is stuck in my throat. My voice refuses to come out. My panic grows. The man keeps approaches me, menacingly. The smile never leaves his face. I try to run to the other side, but he jumps over one of the desks and cuts off my escape route.
"It's no use, kid. Class has started. Everyone should to be in their seats!" The brass knuckles glint before they meet my face.
I wake up, drenched in about a liter of sweat. I look around the room like a startled rabbit. A cool morning breeze blows in through the open window, billowing the sheer curtain—a gift from my mother. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and rub my temples. My phone is lying next to my pillow. I grab it immediately and, without a moment's hesitation, delete almost all my social media accounts.
Later, the same thing happens to the article about abandoned buildings that I had downloaded on my laptop. Kenopsia? Not in this lifetime!