Mysterious Awakening

Right, the mysterious safety instructor had etched these mystifying words across the classroom’s vast blackboard with quick, determined strokes. “Only ghosts can stop ghosts. Every ghost follows a unique pattern.” His hands moved with a kind of grave conviction, sending whispers of incredulity and consternation bouncing through the crowd of students assembled for this late-night lecture.

The atmosphere inside the classroom hummed with confusion, a palpable energy of skepticism that matched the late hour. Whispers floated through the room, carrying sentiments of skepticism towards the man, a chorus of murmurs that questioned his sanity. They questioned whether this was indeed a formal safety lecture or simply the scattered ramblings of a man unhinged.

Eventually, laughter snaked its way around the room, subtle at first, then growing bolder, students dismissing the grim declarations with jocular cynicism. All save for one: Miles, who wore an expression of contemplative apprehension, his mind drifting back to an eerie story he’d stumbled upon online and the accompanying photo that had left him disquieted. He wondered if the world was changing in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

Despite the undertones of dismissal from the kids, Right continued, his eyes reddened and tired, “If any of you have questions, or if anything unusual is happening around you, don’t hesitate to ask. Otherwise, our safety lecture ends here.”

There was an unspoken agreement amongst the students; no hands ventured upward to pose a query.

However, as Miles was on the cusp of asking Right about the photograph he’d discovered on an online forum, the classroom lights dimmed unexpectedly, thrusting the room’s atmosphere into an unsettling vibe.

The moment the lights waned, Right tensed on stage, his eyes darting around the room in alert apprehension. Following the gaze, Miles’s eyes were drawn to a figure standing in the hallway, visible through the large classroom window. Fear, chilling and immediate, seized him, rendering him temporarily immobile.

An elderly man, draped in a dark robe that appeared almost spectral, stood outside. His eyes, an unnerving gray-white, stared into the room with an unblinking intensity. He radiated a palpable malevolence, the hallway behind him swallowed by a murky darkness that seemed to seep through the window, slowly infecting the classroom like mercury spreading across a flat surface.

Near the figure, the wall seemed to age rapidly, paint flaking away as if subjected to many years of neglect in mere seconds. Moss crawled over the surface, creeping outward as the wallpaper darkened, curling and peeling away, and the stale scent of decay began to permeate the room.

“Could this be the same man from the forum?” A panicked thought fluttered through Miles’s mind. His phone displayed the image of the elderly man from the forum, but the figure outside looked even more foreboding.

Fear took hold of Miles, prompting him to bolt from his seat with such force that his chair clattered onto the floor, causing the classroom’s collective gaze to converge onto him.

“Miles, sit down,” came the stern command from Teacher Wang, who was seated at the back of the room. His voice echoed with authority, resonating through the silent room. “Don’t disrupt the class.”

But Miles hardly registered the rebuke. His eyes, wide with fear, remained locked on the figure outside the window.

“Tap, tap.” The distinct sound of footsteps reverberated through the hallway, the eeriness of the noise infiltrating the hushed classroom.

“Is he leaving?” Miles intoned with hushed anxiety, his gaze fixed on the elder figure in the distance. The man’s form, while frail, moved with an unsettling determination, with rivulets of sweat cascading down his creased forehead, each droplet a testament to his straining effort. Miles’s entire reservoir of hope lay betwixt the likelihood of the old man’s departure. The mere thought of the latter gaining entry into the room was a terrifying notion Miles couldn’t afford to entertain.

If the tales that were fervently passed around in their online forum were anything more than just tall tales, the entry of this geriatric individual could potentially invite an unforeseen disaster of epic proportions. To Miles’ growing dread, the aging man’s movements showed no sign of retreat. His calculated steps, each echoing with an uncanny intensity, eventually led him to stand ominously in front of the classroom door.

“Miles, take your seat. Are you choosing to blatantly disregard me and interrupt an ongoing lecture on safety protocol?” The words, an embodiment of disciplinary reproach, were spoken by Teacher Wang in a tone brimming with stern rebuke.

In a twist of fate, a high-pitched, terrified scream tore through the confines of the room. A petrified female student, her face whitened with pure terror, pointed at her desk with trembling fingers, her shock too intense for her to formulate any coherent words.

The book lying unassuming on her desk underwent a rapid, horrifying transformation. It lost its vibrant hue, turning an alarming shade of yellow, after which it began to get covered with patches of slimy mold, and finally succumbed to decomposition, becoming a putrid heap of decay.

“What an unbearable stench! Su Lei, why on earth is there such a mound of disgusting filth on your desk?” William cried out, his face scrunched up as he held his nose against the pungent odor.

“Can’t be! A ghost domain manifestation, right now?” A male student, who was unfortunate enough to be seated next to the horrified girl, lost his color instantly. Without any forethought, he shot up from his seat, retreating several steps backward in a swift, fear-driven motion.

“Jing, what’s behind all this commotion?” An irked Teacher Wang demanded, his patience dwindling with the inexplicable antics of his typically disciplined students.

Right, standing atop the classroom podium, squinted his eyes, his whole demeanor bristling with a heightened sense of vigilance. His previously weary aura seemed to have dissipated, supplanted by a predatory intensity as he focused his attention on Jing.

In contrast, Jing appeared unsettlingly composed.

“Quite insightful, aren’t you? So, are you a ghost tamer as well?” Right queried, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

“Stay out of my business, Right. This is my business.” Jing retorted, shooting a hostile glance at Miles. “This predicament is all on you. I should have disposed of you when I had the chance. Had I done so, we wouldn’t be stuck in this turmoil. Your future self is a living nightmare.”

Miles could only return Jing’s steely gaze with a perplexed look, the cryptic words further confounding him. His primary fear, however, continued to revolve around the elderly man lingering ominously outside their classroom door.

Meanwhile, Jing’s shocking confession left the rest of the class in a state of stunned silence.

“Jeez, Jing, you nearly scared the life out of me!”

“What’s with all this talk about ghost tamers and future selves? You’re speaking in riddles. Can anyone demystify this?”

“Seems like Jing has some exclusive intel. Am I the only one feeling uneasy about this whole scenario?”

“What on earth has gotten into everyone today? Everyone seems off. Have I fallen behind, or is the world just hurtling too fast? And why did my book morph into a revolting heap of sludge?”

Despite the uncanny happenings, the majority of the students displayed an air of bewildered curiosity rather than outright terror, their comprehension not catching up with the lurking threat.

And then, suddenly.

A rhythmic, ominous “thump, thump-thump” resonated through the tense silence.

A knock, heavy and insistent, reverberated throughout the classroom, each thunderous rap echoing in the silence like a dreadful heartbeat. The sound was jarring, a spectral drummer pounding a grim concerto that sent shockwaves of fear pulsating through the room.

An overwhelming tide of terror swept over the crowd, the sudden influx of fear seizing each person in its icy grasp. The chilling sensation felt as if their very souls were being submerged, floundering in a flood of invisible, frigid water, struggling for a breath they couldn’t catch.

“The knocking… it’s the same,” Miles stammered, his voice quivering with apprehension. His heart pounded an anxious rhythm in his chest, the haunting tempo of the knocking echoing ominously within him.

This sinister auditory echo mirrored the sound from the audio file he’d found on the forum. Yet, experiencing it firsthand intensified the eerie resonance, magnifying its impact and unsettling him deeply.

Right’s expression hardened as he swiftly retrieved a specially designed phone from his pocket, his fingers flying over the keys with a sense of urgency. The line connected almost instantaneously.

“Right? Status report,” a woman’s voice on the other end of the line demanded, her tone a blend of concern.

“We’re dealing with a supernatural incident,” Right’s voice was steady, despite the terrifying circumstances. There was no room for hesitation in his response.

“Data logged,” the woman quickly acknowledged, her voice laced with professionalism. “Are you equipped to handle it?”

Right swallowed noticeably before responding, “The entity appears to have constructed what we classify as a ‘ghost domain.’ Our current location is under its influence, and we’re losing visibility of external light sources. The domain’s span is extensive.”

“A ghost domain?” Her voice held an edge of alarm. “This is beyond your abilities, Right. I strongly advise you to evacuate the premises immediately.” The urgency in her tone increased. “Using your abilities in your current state could have lethal consequences. There may be more than one entity involved. My advice is to fall back. Even under optimal conditions, you might not have the power to protect everyone.”

But Right’s response was unyielding, his resolve clear despite her grave warnings. “There’s no time for that. I’m near the entity, positioned right outside the classroom door. It’s highly probable it’s aware of my presence. I’ll keep the line open. If communication is lost, assume the worst. Please pass on my last words to my parents. Now, I have to take action.”

“Thump, thump-thump.”

The ominous rhythm of the knocking continued, relentless and unfaltering. The pattern, a single long knock followed by two short ones, punctuated the heavy silence outside the classroom door, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

“Teacher Wang, there’s someone at the door!” An oblivious student’s voice echoed in the room, breaking the charged silence.

Despite the escalating tension and the visible strain etched across Right’s face, Teacher Wang was unable to resist the lure of the unknown. Driven by a mix of duty and curiosity, he cautiously approached the rear exit of the classroom to identify the source of the unrelenting knocking.

“No, don’t go out!” Right’s plea rang through the room, an echo of alarm resounding in his desperate cry.

But his cautionary words fell on already retreating ears. Teacher Wang, oblivious to his warning, had already made his move towards the outside. The moment his foot crossed the sanctity of the indoor threshold, he seemed to dissolve into nothingness as if consumed by the obsidian expanse of the night.

The space beyond the door was swathed in a depth of darkness that was both unsettling and absolute, a hungry void that seemed intent on swallowing any speck of light daring to penetrate its realm. In the immediate aftermath of Teacher Wang’s departure, the world fell eerily silent, devoid of any hint of movement or sound. It was as if his very existence had been efficiently scrubbed from reality.

In addition, the moment the classroom door creaked open, the inky darkness from the exterior, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a dense, black fog, oozed its way into the room. Like a stealthy predator, it began to creep across the space within the classroom, threatening to consume the familiar surroundings with its eerie blackness.