I wake up to the cold of the metal walls around me.
The room is small and empty, with only my bed, a toothed sink, and a toilet in the corner.
My breath feels heavy in the chilly air.
Then I heard it.
A soft sound behind the door.
At first it is just a light tapping.
Then something drags slowly across the metal surface.
I sit up, unsure if I am still half asleep.
The sound returns, louder this time, like a fist pushing against the door from the other side.
I start to stretch my arms and try to steady myself. It is another strange morning in this place.
Without warning, the door bursts open with a violent crash.
BAMM!!!
Metal rattles as it slams into the wall.
A thick, shifting darkness fills the doorway.
Something stands inside that darkness, quiet, breathing, watching me.
Four years earlier...
I wake up to the annoying buzz of my alarm.
For a second, I just stare at the ceiling and try to remember where I am. My room is quiet, and little cold.
I sit up slowly and rub my eyes.
My back feels stiff like I didn't sleep at all
Another school day. Great.
I pull my backpack from under the bed and check if I still have my notebooks, My jacket is hanging on the chair, so I grab it and put it on before heading downstairs.
The house smells like toast.
My mom must have already left for work.
I eat quickly, My mind keeps drifting back to the weird dream I had last night.
A door. A dark room. Something whispering my name. I try to shake the thought away.
step outside and breathe in the cold air. The whole street feels too quiet for the morning.
No kids, no cars, no noise.
I put my hands in my pockets and start walking to the bus stop, and for some reason, I feel like someone is watching me.
I look around, but nothing is there.
I don't know why, but something about today feels different.
Like something is waiting for me.
Like this isn't just a normal day.
While my mind was drifting away, I saw the school bus right in front of my eyes, I snapped out of my thought and I started walking to it.
The doors hiss open, and warm air rushes out as I climb the steps.
The bus smells the same as always: old seats, dust, and that weird plastic smell.
I walk down the aisle, looking for a free seat, when I hear someone call my name.
Alex!
I turn my head and see him.
Michael.
He's sitting near the back, waving at me with that tired half-smile he always has in the morning.
We've known each other since middle school, and even though high school changed a lot of things, he stayed the same friend he'd always been.
I slide into the seat next to him.
You look dead, he says, laughing quietly.
Thanks, I tell him. I slept like trash.
He nods like he expected that answer.
We talk a little about homework, teachers, and how our new classes are already giving us headaches.
He tells me about some weird kid who sits behind him in math class and keeps tapping on the desk like he's sending secret messages.
I just laugh and shake my head.
For a moment, everything feels normal.
Like the weird dream I had last night never happened.
The bus stops.
The doors swing open.
Here we go again, Michael says as he stands up.
We grab our bags and step out into the morning noise, completely unaware that this is the last normal day we'll ever have.
I step off the bus with Michael right behind me.
The cold hits my face as soon as my feet touch the pavement.
Students are everywhere, rushing to the doors, talking, laughing, or just trying to wake up like me.
Michael bumps my shoulder a little.
Ready for another boring day
Not even a little, I say.
We pass a couple of students we know from middle school and wave at them, but we don't stop.
The bell hasn't rung yet, but I really don't want to be late on the first real week of classes.
Our classroom is on the second floor, so we climb the stairs, squeezing, The hallway feels too bright.
When we finally reach our class.
There are a few empty seats left.
Michael heads toward the back, and I follow him.
We've always sat together, and now that we are in the same class again, it feels like middle school never ended.
I drop my backpack next to the desk and sit down.
Michael leans back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.
So, first class of the day, he says.
Think it's gonna be bad
I said.
Probably.
Students keep coming in, filling the room with noise.
Some laugh, some argue, some look half asleep.
I watch them for a moment, then look toward the window.
The sky is cloudy.
Heavier than usual.
I try not to think about it, but something in my chest feels tight.
I shake it off when the teacher walks in.
Michael leans closer and whispers:
Here we go.
The moment the door closes, the classroom gets quiet.
Every conversation drops a little, every chair stops moving.
The man who walks in doesn't look like any teacher I've seen before.
Tall, pale, with sharp eyes that scan the room like he's counting every breath we take.
He sets his bag on the desk and adjusts his glasses slowly.
Good morning, he says.
My name is Mr. Afton.
His voice is calm, too calm.
It feels like the whole room sinks into silence just so it can hear him better.
Since today is our first day together, we won't start with real lessons.
We'll start with something simple.
A short introduction.
A few students groan quietly. Michael leans toward me and whispers:
Great. My favorite… talking about myself.
I try not to laugh as Mr. Afton lifts a piece of chalk and writes his name on the board.
The sound of the chalk dragging across the surface makes me shiver a little.
I want each of you to say your name, and one thing you like or dislike, he says.
He looks at us one by one, almost studying us, like he's trying to see what we are hiding behind our faces.
We'll go from the front row to the back.
Students start introducing themselves.
Some sound nervous, some bored, some like they want to sleep.
Michael sighs dramatically when his turn gets closer.
His eyes move across the room again…
and for a moment, I feel like he's looking straight through me.
Michael whispering to me:
Dude, this guy is kind of creepy.
I don't answer.
I'm too focused on Mr. Afton's expression.
Something about him… I can't figure it out.
My turn comes closer.
My heart beats faster for no reason.
Now my turn.
I clear my throat and sit up straight.
My name is Alex Baker, I'm sixteen, I like sniping sports… and I really hate ghosts.
A few students turn their heads toward me.
Michael gives me a small smile like he knew I was going to say that.
Mr. Afton just nods slowly, eyes locked on me for a second longer than on anyone else.
Interesting, he says.
Thank you, Alex.
Next.
Before the next student can start, the classroom door suddenly opens with a loud creak.
Everyone looks toward it.
Ben walks in, half-asleep, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed.
He's holding his backpack with one hand and rubbing his eye with the other.
Sorry… I overslept, he mumbles.
Mr. Afton watches him enter.
No anger.
No smiles.
Just that same calm stare that makes the whole room feel colder.
Take a seat, Mr. Ben. We were just introducing ourselves, he says.
Ben nods and drags his feet to the nearest empty desk.
He drops into the flesh like gravity doubled on him.
Michael leans toward me and whispers.
Looks like someone had a long night.
I almost laugh, but when Ben looks up for a moment, his eyes seem… different.
Tired, yes.
But something else too.
Like he saw something he shouldn't have.
He blinks slowly, then puts his head down on the desk.
Mr. Afton continues the introductions like nothing happened.
After 3 more classes...
When the final bell rings, I feel like my brain is melting from all the classes.
Students rush out of the rooms like they've been trapped for years.
I grab my backpack and step into the hallway, breathing a little easier.
I spot Ben near his locker.
He's moving slowly, like every step hurts.
His eyes look even more tired than this morning.
I walk up to him.
Hey, Ben… are you good?
He pauses, then forces a smile that doesn't fit his face.
Yeah… yeah, I'm fine.
No, he's not.
Anyone could see that.
Are you sure? You looked messed up in class.
He laughs gently, but it sounds weak.
Just didn't sleep much.
I step closer, crossing my arms.
Come on, man. I've known you since middle school.
You don't look like this from missing sleep.
Well looks away.
He opens and closes his locker without taking anything, like he's pretending he has something to do.
I try again.
Well… what happened?
He stays silent for a few seconds.
Too long for it to be normal.
He keeps staring at the floor, breathing slow and shaky.
Dude, talk to me. I say quietly.
He finally stops moving.
His shoulders drop a little.
He hesitates… like he's scared to even say the words.
Then he mutters:
Fine… I'll tell you…
He looks around the hallway to make sure no one is listening.
Because last night…something happened.
He swallows hard.
"I heard something last night," he said quietly. Not footsteps… not anything normal.
I waited.
It was whispering.
He paused, searching for the right words.
"I woke up around… I don't know, two? Three? And the room was dead quiet. Then I heard it.
like someone was standing right next to my bed, whispering really fast.
I couldn't make out a single word."
He swallowed, his voice tightening.
"And every time I tried to get up or turn on the light, it stopped. Completely. Like whoever it was knew what I was doing."
He shook his head.
"When I lay back down, it started again. Same whispers, same spot.
I swear it was real. I felt… breath. Right here.
He touched the side of his neck.
No sleep. No rest. Just waiting for the sun to come up.
I was surprised to hear his story.
And then he kept looking around like someone might be listening.
Then he lowered his voice even more.
"There's… something else," he said. "I didn't want to tell you because it sounds insane."
I agreed for him to continues.
"This morning, before I left for school, I found something in my house. A book."
He hesitated.
"It wasn't ours. I've never seen it before.
Old, dusty… like it had been hidden there for years, and it has a big black crystal in the middle of the book."
I frowned. "What kind of book?"
He took a breath. "It talks about Phantoms."
My stomach tightened at the word.
"According to it," Ben said, "Phantoms don't just appear randomly.
They're drawn to places where reality is thin… places where the world is weaker."
He looked straight at me.
"And the book mentioned a house in the forest. An old one.
It says that the barrier there is… different. Like another world can bleed into ours."
I tried to make sense of it, but Ben wasn't finished.
"It didn't just describe it," he added. "It gave coordinates.
Exact ones. Like it wants someone to go there."
A chill ran through me.
Ben still scared from The situation, but I told him that he is not alone we are with him in this situation.
He smiled a little smile with sight of hope to find a solution to his problem.
But inside i was scared from his story and Michael saw that in my eyes.
After 3 hours....
Classes dragged on, but the second the final bell rang, the three of us walked out together, me, Ben, and Michael.
None of us said it out loud, but we all knew where we were going. We followed the old dirt path behind the school, but
the trees grew thicker
the farther we went. That's when it happened .like a weight pressing down. Well noticed I wasn't moving. "Alex? Are you good?"
"Yeah… yeah, I just" I glanced behind me again.
The path was empty. "I thought I saw someone."
Michael turned around. "Where?"
"I don't know," I said. "It felt like… like someone was staring at us."
We all stood still for a moment, listening.
No footsteps. No voices. No movement.
But the feeling stayed with me as we continued walking like whoever, or whatever, was out there didn't want to be seen… not yet.
And then we arrived at the house.