"Moonlit mischief - 2"

Fa: JIYA! Wake up! I’m giving a lecture here, and you’re napping? This is exactly how teachers feel when students don’t pay attention. JIYA!! WAKE UP!

Jiya stretches with a lazy yawn, covering her mouth as she slowly straightens up and stops the recording.

Jiya: Are you done with your Oscar-worthy performance? Can we eat now? My stomach's practically yelling at me.

Fa: Now you're asking if I’m done? HAH! Not even close. You didn’t listen to a word I said!

Jiya: Relax, I’ll watch the video later. But first—food. Please.

Fa: Oh, you will watch it—every single second. No skipping!

Jiya: Alright, alright! Let’s go to the canteen before I faint.

Jiya quickly packs up, and they head toward the canteen. A loud grumble escapes from Jiya’s stomach, causing her to cover her face in embarrassment.

Fa: Heard that. No denying it—you’re starving.

The canteen at night is a quiet, ghostly space. The aroma of old meals lingers in the air, clinging to the empty chairs and silent tables. Flickering tube lights cast a pale glow, while the low hum of a vending machine adds to the eerie stillness. It's as if the canteen itself is holding its breath, waiting for the next burst of student life.

They settle down, pulling out their packed food and chatting between bites. After eating, they make their way to the library.

Jiya: That food hit the spot. I feel human again.

Fa: Feeling good enough to hunt for the library now?

Jiya: Definitely. Lead the way, Miss Tour Guide.

The library at night is a hushed realm of shadows and stories. Towering shelves stretch into darkness, their books whispering secrets under dim reading lamps. The cool air hums with a gentle breeze, rustling forgotten pages as if the room itself is alive with old knowledge.

Jiya: This place is incredible! So spooky… but I love it. I wish I could stay here forever. Who needs dorms when you have ghost stories and free books?

Fa: Wait, you’re serious?

Jiya: Dead serious.

Fa: Uh-uh, no way! We’ve got more places to explore. Snap a few videos, then we’re out.

Jiya: sighs dramatically As you wish, my lady.

She pulls out the camera again with a grin, the lens clicking to life under the library’s ghostly glow.

Jiya began recording each corner of the library, her focus sharp and steady—until a chilling sound broke the silence: the distinct screech of nails dragging across a wall. Her heart skipped a beat. A tremor surged through her, and she collapsed to the ground, shaken.

Fa: Jiya? Are you okay?

Jiya: Did you hear that? That scratching sound… It felt so close, right behind me.

Fa: Did you watch a horror movie this afternoon?

Jiya: Well… yes.

Fa: There you go. It’s just your imagination running wild. You sure you’re done recording?

Jiya: Yeah, yeah, let’s wrap this up. I’m exhausted.

Wasting no time, they made their way to their final stop—a building near the edge of the garden. Abandoned for three years, it stood lifeless, its walls cloaked in ivy and its path scattered with brittle, dead shrubs. A cold wind howled through broken windows, whispering warnings into the night.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Jiya: I have a bad feeling about this. Let’s just go back.

Fa: Drink some water and follow me. We’re almost done.

Jiya (to herself): This place feels wrong. Every step feels heavier… like something’s watching us. Why doesn’t she get it? When we get back, I swear—I’ll strangle her. Let’s just finish this.

While Jiya muttered darkly to herself, they stepped inside. The air was thick with dust, and every room they entered seemed trapped in time. Spiderwebs clung to the ceilings like forgotten memories, and the silence pressed on them like a weight.

Fa: Jiya, pass me the camera.

Jiya handed it over silently, her expression tense. They continued exploring, Fa filming every eerie corner with practiced ease.

As they reached a dim corridor, Fa turned the camera toward Jiya and smirked.

Fa: Jiya, look here.

Jiya slowly turned, visibly annoyed.

Jiya: What now? I’m serious—I just want to get out of here.

As Fa teased Jiya, recording her reactions with a grin, a sudden gust of icy wind swept past them. A shadow darted across the corridor, just out of focus.

Then—it appeared again.

Peeking from behind the stone pillars.

Its eyes glowed crimson. Unblinking. Fixed on Fa.

A bolt of terror shot through her. Fa stumbled back, her breath caught in her throat. She lost her footing and hit the ground with a sickening thud. The camera slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor—its screen shattering on impact.

Jiya rushed forward.

Jiya: Fa!? FA! What happened?

Fa's eyes were glazed over, her pupils dilated and unfocused. Her body was frozen, lips parted slightly in a breath that never came. Her skin had lost all colour—tinged now with something...

Jiya (desperately shaking her): FARINDA SHAH! FA SHAH! FA!!! Say something!

Fa’s head tilted slightly… and without a word, she turned. Like a puppet on invisible strings, she began to move—drawn forward by an unseen force. Her skates glided soundlessly over the cracked floor as she ascended to the third floor.

Jiya, pulse racing, grabbed the broken camera and stuffed it into her bag. She didn’t think—she just followed.

Up to the third floor.

Flowers of every colour lay scattered across the ground, faded and drying. Framed pictures of deities adorned the walls, some covered with dust, others surrounded by offerings—half-rotted fruit, broken candles, wilted garlands.

At the centre stood a massive gate.

Bound tightly in red thread, the gate pulsed with an eerie stillness. Ancient talismans were nailed across it, their ink faded and symbols barely legible. Two thick wooden rods were nailed across the entrance in an X, forming a crude but firm barricade.

And then Jiya saw it.

The shadow.

It slipped inside—silent and swift—pulling Fa closer to the sealed gate.

Without a second’s hesitation, Fa hurled herself at the sealed gate, palms slamming hard against the ancient wood. It didn’t move.

She stepped back, drew a deep breath—and with full force, threw her body into it again.

The old frame groaned like a wounded beast. Threads of red snapped. The nailed talismans fluttered loose.

Then—BOOM.

The gate burst open.

From the darkness beyond, a ghastly pale hand—bony, clawed, almost skeletal—lunged forward, snatching Fa by the wrist. With an inhuman strength, it yanked her into the shadows.

“FA!” Jiya cried out, racing toward her.

She wrapped her arms around Fa’s waist, digging her feet into the dust-slick floor, trying to pull her back—but the force inside was relentless. It was winning.

Frantic, Jiya’s hand closed around a rusted iron rod. In a desperate move, she struck Fa across the back, hard enough to break the entity’s grip.

Fa was thrown backward into the corridor, landing with a gasp—dazed, but free.

But Jiya lost her balance.

She slipped.

And fell inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, reality warped.

There was no floor.

No walls.

No air.

Only weightlessness.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She was falling—but not through space—through something thicker. Heavier. It was like plummeting through a sea of shadows.

She crashed into a vast pool of still, dusty liquid, the surface barely rippling. A nauseating chill pierced through her.

Then it grabbed her.

Something clutched her ankle and dragged her downward.

She kicked and fought but it kept pulling.

She felt claws rake across her neck, leaving a fiery sting. Her lungs burned, her breath hitched, and her hands clawed at the void, but nothing helped.

The grip tightened.

Her vision blurred. Her limbs weakened. Her heartbeat slowed.

She could feel it—the end—creeping in.

Until—

A figure appeared.

A faint but glowing softly—neither light nor shadow.

Someone appeared in front of her.