Before the Bell

Lucen waited by the locked campus gate; it was still too early for classes. In the distance, he saw a figure sprinting toward him through the dim morning light.

Aira skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily. “You’re here too? Why are you standing outside?” she asked. Lucen shrugged, a wry smile forming. “We both got here early,” he replied lightly.

Without another word, Aira pushed off from the ground and began scaling the stone wall. “What on earth are you doing?” Lucen shouted, but it was too late. She was already halfway up. With ease, Aira vaulted over the top.

Lucen blinked, then grinned. “Maybe I’ll try too,” he said. He kicked off the wall and grabbed the edge. Clambering up and over, he dropped to the ground beside her. Together, they slipped onto the campus grounds.

Darkness greeted them as they entered the building. The halls were deserted, long shadows stretching down the hallway. Even the overhead lights were off, leaving only thin bands of dawn light. Aira glanced around. “Do you feel that?” she whispered.

Lucen nodded slowly. “Yeah… something’s off. It’s too quiet in here. Kind of creepy,” he admitted. Their footsteps echoed on the stairs as they climbed, amplifying the strange, ominous atmosphere.

When they reached their classroom, Lucen gingerly turned the doorknob and pushed it open. He stepped inside—and froze. His heart pounded painfully fast. Directly above him dangled a pair of black shoes, swaying gently in the air.

He stumbled backward in shock and crashed into a nearby desk. Seconds passed in stunned silence before his brain caught up. Then Lucen screamed as he realized the truth: a girl’s pale, lifeless body hung from the ceiling, suspended by a rope.

Aira, however, reacted with an eerie calm. She simply lowered herself onto a desk beside the door. “You scared of a dead girl?” she asked, tilting her head.

Lucen stood shaking. “How can you be so calm? There’s a girl hanging from the ceiling!” he shouted, disbelief and fear mixing in his voice.

Aira turned toward him and said quietly, “Relax. She’s just a soul now… not really here.”

Fury and confusion churned in Lucen’s chest. He felt a mixture of fear and anger. “A soul? What does that even mean?” he demanded.

Aira stood up and stepped closer to the hanging figure. Her hand reached out slowly, as if touching mist. When her fingers brushed the ghostly arm, Aira gasped—her hand passed right through it. “Oh… oh my…” she whispered, eyes wide.

She staggered back a few steps. “It’s… a soul, but I can touch it,” she murmured to herself.

Lucen gradually stood up, heart still hammering. “Who are you, really?” he demanded, voice trembling.

Aira gave a sad smile. “I told you,” she said, “I’m your guardian angel.”

Lucen pressed both hands to his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. One moment there’s a dead girl, the next you’re telling me I’m some chosen one with a guardian angel. What is this?”

Aira ran her fingers through her hair. “To be frank, I’m not your guardian angel. I’m here for reasons only I know. And I’m not from this world.”

Lucen frowned. “What do you mean, another world?”

Aira took a steadying breath. “There’s another world right next to ours. Trains run on old tracks, the buildings are Gothic, and everything is more colorful. It’s called Skinkai.”

Lucen studied her in the dim light, uneasy. Despite everything, he felt a strange relief that Aira was finally being honest. Still, he wasn’t about to volunteer. “Whatever your world is, I don’t want any part of it,” he told her firmly.

Aira looked back at the hanging soul. “Fine. But will you help me find the person responsible for her death?” she asked quietly.

Lucen blinked. “What? How can we possibly do that?”

Aira shrugged. “There are certain things only some people can see or sense. And you can see them too—that’s why I’m interested in you.”

Lucen rubbed his temples. “If we have to find this person, is there some special trick you use?”

A tense silence fell as all the students took their seats. Lucen noticed something odd: Ms. Lucy still wasn’t there. She usually came early.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and shut off. A collective gasp swept through the classroom. Outside the window, thunder rumbled and heavy rain began to pour. Some students groaned, but Lucen watched the storm with a strange calm. In the darkness, the dripping rain and the pounding thunder were the only sounds.

Then Lucen noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. In the dim light, directly in front of him, lay the figure of the girl who had been hanging. The body was on the floor, crawling forward on its arms, dragging its broken legs. It was headed toward the front desk—toward Ms. Lucy’s empty chair.

Lucen’s breath caught. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. A soft, pained whisper drifted through the darkness: “I don’t hate you…”

He realized the words weren’t meant for him. The ghostly girl was inches away from Ms. Lucy’s desk now, her transparent eyes full of sorrow as she repeated those words.

Then, as the lightning flashed again, the apparition vanished. A few students rubbed their eyes and blinked, wondering if it had been a trick of the light. Outside, the storm eased into a steady rain.

The bell rang for break. Suddenly, students shouted and scrambled out. Only Lucen and Ms. Lucy remained. Lucen looked up to see Ms. Lucy sitting at the desk, her face wet with tears.

Silently, Ms. Lucy gathered her things. She met Lucen’s gaze for a moment, a haunted look in her eyes, then slipped out of the room.

Lucen stayed behind, staring out the window. The fog had turned into a downpour, soaking the trees and paths. He thought of Aira’s mysterious world, the trapped soul, Ms. Lucy’s sudden tears… Everyone here had secrets.

She is a mystery too, Lucen thought to himself. He leaned back in his chair, the ghost’s words still echoing in his mind as he waited for the break to end. He stared at the empty doorway, determination rising in his chest.