The Abandoned School's Presence

After evening self-study ends and the classroom lights go out one by one, you're standing in front of the old building. The sound of a chair being dragged, which started on the third floor, has come down the stairs one step at a time and has now stopped just inside the first-floor entrance. Beyond the chained glass doors, all you can see is a dusty hallway and a tilted shoe rack. And yet, on the floor just inside the door sits a single wooden chair. A chair that wasn't there before. Its back faces you, and on the floor beneath its legs runs a long trail of fresh scrape marks, as if it had just been dragged there. Though there isn't a breath of wind, the glass door is pushed ever so slightly inward, then swings back. And through the gap in the door, low, leaks a sound somewhere between crying and laughing. As if it already knows you're standing there.