The old high school had stood abandoned for over a decade, its rusted gates creaking in the wind like whispers from the past. Most students had long forgotten the stories that once circulated among them—tales of ghostly figures seen in the gymnasium, of laughter echoing through empty hallways at night. But for a small group of curious teenagers, the school was more than just a place of decay; it was a mystery waiting to be uncovered. One rainy afternoon, four friends gathered near the crumbling entrance, their backpacks filled with flashlights, notebooks, and a few cans of energy drinks. They had heard the rumors before, but none of them had ever dared to step inside. Now, they were ready. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old wood as they pushed open the heavy door. The hallway was dimly lit by the pale light filtering through broken windows, casting jagged shadows across the cracked tiles. A faint hum of electricity crackled in the background, though no power had been restored since the school closed. They moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled by dust and time. In the science lab, they found a chalkboard still covered in faded equations, the last lesson left unfinished. In the library, books lay scattered on the floor, their spines cracked and pages yellowed. But it was in the auditorium where they first felt the strange presence. The stage lights flickered as if responding to their arrival. A low, rhythmic tapping echoed from the rafters above, like someone walking along the beams. The group froze. “Did you hear that?” one of them whispered. No one answered. As they explored further, they noticed something odd. Every classroom had a single desk at the front, untouched by time. Each one bore a name carved into the wood, written in an old, slanted script. Names like "Evelyn" and "Marcus" and "Lila," none of which they recognized. When they tried to read the names aloud, the sound seemed to linger in the air, as if the words had a life of their own. In the music room, they found an old piano. Its keys were yellowed, its cover stained with what looked like water. As one of them hesitantly pressed a note, a soft melody drifted through the room—familiar yet unfamiliar, like a song they had never heard but somehow remembered. The others joined in, humming along, not knowing why. It was as if the piano was alive, waiting for someone to play it again. But then came the silence. The music stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of their own breathing. The temperature dropped, and the air grew heavy, pressing against their skin like a weight. The walls seemed to pulse, as if the building itself was holding its breath. They decided to leave, but the doors had locked behind them. No matter how hard they pulled, they wouldn’t open. Panic set in, but then they heard it—a voice, soft and distant, calling out their names. It wasn’t loud, but it was clear, as if it had been waiting for them all along. “Why are you here?” it asked. The group exchanged uneasy glances. “We… we just wanted to see the school,” one of them stammered. A pause. Then, “You will always come back.” The voice faded, and the doors suddenly swung open. The friends ran out, gasping for air, their hearts pounding. They didn’t speak until they reached the edge of the woods, where the old school disappeared behind them like a dream. Days passed, and the story spread among other students. Some laughed it off, others became fascinated. But the four friends never spoke about what they had seen. They kept their secret, though the memory haunted them in dreams—visions of classrooms with empty desks, of voices calling their names, of a school that never truly closed. And sometimes, when the wind blew just right, they could swear they heard the echo of a piano playing in the distance.