The old high school on the edge of town had long been abandoned, its windows shattered and its halls echoing with the whispers of forgotten students. No one dared to enter after dark, but every year, on the anniversary of the fire that had claimed the lives of three students, a strange phenomenon occurred. The school’s front gate would creak open on its own, as if welcoming someone who had never left. Lila was a curious girl, always drawn to stories of the supernatural. She had heard the tales from her grandmother, who had once attended the school before it closed. "It's not the ghosts you should fear," she had said, "it's what they remember." Lila had never believed in ghosts, but something about the story intrigued her. When the date approached, she decided to go. She arrived at the school just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old wood. As she stepped through the rusted gate, the wind seemed to stop, and the silence pressed against her ears like a heavy blanket. The building loomed ahead, its red brick walls weathered and covered in ivy that clung like fingers. Inside, the hallway was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through broken windows. The floorboards groaned under her feet, and each step felt like an intrusion. She reached the library, where the books had long since turned to dust. A single desk sat in the center, its surface etched with names and dates. One name stood out: "Emily R. – 1998." Lila traced the letters with her finger, feeling a chill crawl up her spine. She opened the drawer, expecting nothing, but found a small notebook inside. Its pages were filled with entries written in a shaky hand. The first entry read: "They’re watching me. I hear them whispering at night. They say they want to be free." As she flipped through the pages, the entries grew more frantic. Emily wrote about seeing figures in the mirror, hearing voices behind her, and feeling a cold breath on her neck. The last entry was dated the day of the fire. "I think I know who they are. They weren’t just students—they were waiting for someone. And now they’re coming for me." Lila’s heart pounded as she closed the notebook. She turned to leave, but the door slammed shut behind her. The lights flickered, and the temperature dropped rapidly. A low hum filled the room, like the sound of distant footsteps. She tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic crept into her chest. Then, she heard it—a soft voice, almost like a child’s. "You shouldn’t have come here." Lila spun around, but there was no one behind her. The voice came again, this time closer. "We’ve been waiting for you." She backed toward the wall, her breath shallow. The air grew colder, and the shadows around her seemed to stretch and twist. Then, from the corner of the room, a figure emerged. It was a girl, no older than thirteen, dressed in an old school uniform. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow. She didn’t move, but Lila could feel her gaze piercing through her. "You found the book," the girl said, her voice echoing strangely. "You can help us." Lila’s mind raced. "Who are you? What happened to you?" The girl tilted her head. "We were trapped here. We didn’t mean to hurt anyone. We just wanted to be remembered." The room grew darker, and the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Lila realized the girl wasn’t threatening her—she was pleading. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The girl smiled faintly. "Find the others. They’re still here. You have to bring them back." Before Lila could respond, the light returned, and the door creaked open. The girl vanished, leaving only a lingering chill in the air. Lila stumbled outside, her legs shaking. She didn’t know if she had imagined it all or if something truly had happened. But as she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the school was watching her—and that it wasn’t done with her yet.