The old high school on the edge of town had always been a place of whispered rumors. Most students avoided it, claiming that the halls echoed with voices and that the lockers sometimes opened by themselves. But for those who dared to explore, the stories were more than just urban legends—they were warnings. Every year, the students held a contest called "The Ghost Hunt," where teams would spend the night in the abandoned wing of the school. The winner was the one who could stay the longest without leaving. It wasn’t about bravery, but about proving that the stories weren’t true. Or so they thought. Lena was one of the few who took the challenge seriously. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts—she was fascinated by them. Her friends laughed when she told them she’d be staying alone in Room 314, the last classroom to be sealed off after a tragic accident decades ago. “You’ll probably find a dead teacher or something,” they said, but Lena only smiled. She arrived at midnight, her flashlight cutting through the thick darkness. The air was cold, not from the temperature, but from something else—something that made her skin prickle as she stepped inside. The floorboards creaked under her feet, and the smell of mildew and old paper filled her nose. Room 314 had once been a science lab. The desks were still there, though they were covered in dust and cobwebs. A single window let in a sliver of moonlight, casting long shadows across the walls. Lena sat down at one of the desks, pulled out a notebook, and began writing. At first, everything was quiet. Then, she heard it—a soft tapping, like someone was knocking on the desk. She looked around, but there was no one there. She shrugged and continued writing. The tapping grew louder, rhythmic, almost like a message. “Is someone there?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. No answer. But the tapping stopped. Then, a low hum filled the room, like the sound of a distant radio. It was faint, but it was there, weaving through the silence like a ghostly melody. Lena’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t leave. She had come to find the truth, and she wouldn’t turn back now. As the minutes passed, the hum became clearer. It was a song, but not one she recognized. It was slow, haunting, and strangely familiar. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her. When she opened them again, the lights flickered. Not the overhead bulbs, but the glow of the window, which now seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. Suddenly, the door slammed shut. Lena jumped up, her heart pounding. She ran to the door, but it was locked from the inside. Panic rose in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. She remembered the old tales—the ones about the girl who disappeared in Room 314 and never came out. Was she now following in her footsteps? She turned back to the desk and saw something strange. On the surface, written in what looked like blood, were the words: *You’re not alone.* Lena gasped and stumbled back. The desk was clean. No marks, no stains. Just a normal wooden surface. But the words were there, and they were real. Then, the hum returned, stronger this time. It wasn’t just music—it was a voice. A woman’s voice, soft and sorrowful, singing in a language she didn’t understand. The sound wrapped around her, pulling her deeper into the room. She felt herself being drawn toward the window, as if something was calling her. She tried to resist, but the pull was too strong. Her legs moved on their own, carrying her to the glass. As she reached out, the reflection in the window changed. Instead of her face, it showed a young girl, pale and wide-eyed, standing behind her. Lena screamed, but no sound came out. She turned, and the girl was gone. The room was silent again, except for the steady beat of her own heart. When dawn broke, the janitor found Lena sitting on the floor, her eyes wide and unblinking. She didn’t speak, didn’t move. They carried her out, but she never explained what happened. The school was closed for weeks after that, and the legend of Room 314 grew even darker. But some say that if you go there on a quiet night, you can still hear the song. And if you listen closely, you might hear a voice whispering your name.