Warning: This short story contains graphic imagery, suicide, death, and elements of gore. Please note that the setting of the story is completely fictional and any or all connections to any real world locations or events are completely coincidental.
"Ah, come on!" Ralph exclaimed as he tried to shake the photo to develop.
"What wrong now?" I asked in a nuanced tone.
"What wrong now? What's wrong now is that you bought this crap camera when a phone would suffice!"
I clearly knew what he was truly frustrated at, and that was the very location we were standing in: Spookville High. A silly name to be sure, but that's what the locals called it after it closed down half a decade ago. Once it was named Sootville high since we were located near some coal mines that made the land around us dense with a suffocating black fog. Hell, we sometimes see tourists wear gas masks as they pass by. But then, there were a string of suicides and deaths in the school and none of the locations were consistent other than the fact that it happened at this school. Then people reported seeing "spooks" around the school and dubbed the school Spookville. Obviously, as someone who has been looking for proof of the supernatural, this site was too tantalizing to be passed up. I knew I had to investigate this place before I move to New York, otherwise I might be living my whole life with the depressive realization that I missed my chance. I also had some... personal reason for this.
I brought Ralph, my long time best friend, along because I thought he could handle this kind of expedition but no matter how many motorcycles he drove or how many stellar, awesome patches he stitched into his jacket, he was just a scared little boy behind his mass of muscle.
But I can't say it was hard to blame him, this place sent chills crawling up my spine and even in the middle of summer I could see my breath because of the freezing temperature cloaking the area. The institution has certainly seen better days. Vines covering the cracked walls, wooden boards obscured light from the moon as it was nailed to the windows and doors, papers strewn all about the floors as kids scramble frantically away from the worst suicide of the school.
Kasie Jones had walked nonchalantly in the center lobby, pulled out a gun, and just... shot herself, right there. What made it the worst was that she had spoken fluent Latin that no one understood right before she pulled the trigger... they didn't even offer that kind of language course. Even the teachers and rest of the faculty were convinced it was something demonic in nature. But I knew it was. I saw this happen with my own eyes and I KNOW I saw something in hers, a red glow that made me shiver from the mere memory of the incident. When I investigated further into what she said, I learned that she had spoken Latin for "All who trespass this school after this day is done shall die." And certainly enough, that happened. Janitors were killed by a violent seizures and heart attacks while one teacher gouged his own eyes out. A gruesome tale that shook the very teachers by there core. They built a new school quickly after that while the students had an early spring break.
I took out my antique camera and snapped a couple more picture where previous homicides took place, but none of them developed. Any and all recordings from anyone who tried to get a good look at the spooks never fully developed, as if nothing-
I quickly turned to the origin of the sound, a desk had flown out of room 312 and smacked into the hallway. Another occurrence flew back into memory. In room 312 Wally, a kid who was constantly bullied, stepped onto the top of his desk and hanged himself with a rope he tied to the rafters. The only way to tell if this desk was to inspect it further. I started forward and Ralph was whispering for me to stop but I pressed on. Every step was heavy as iron, I could hear my heart try to pound out of my chest in the vain effort to run from this, and I could hear my breath grow shorter and shorter as it conjured a white mist. I completed my journey and yep... The name "Wally" was carved on the desk.
"AHHHHHHH!!!" My swiftly turned to see that Ralph was being dragged away, kicking and screaming. I sprinted to him and tried to grab him but it was too late. He was dragged into the abyssal dark hallways and never to be seen again. The only thing I could hear was the sound of his camera going off several times and his screaming until I heard the sound of something being twisted. And then... loud silence
I grabbed my camera and booked it to the door I previously pried open with a crowbar.
But it wasn't open anymore...
Somehow a multitude of desks and chairs blocked my way and the boards had already been nailed back in. I vainly tried to shove everything in the way but it felt as if they were bolted into the floor. I was overcome with a desire to cry as I fell to the floor and burst into tears.
"I'm gonna die here... I'm gonna die here..." I repeated to myself and the spirits infesting the school. I heard a malevolent laugh emanating from a small child and the sound of Latin chanting. It was the same laugh and chant of Kasie Jones... my sister. As I sobbed uncontrollably on the floor, I had and overwhelming desire to, to end it all. My hands took a place along my jawline and the top of my head, and through tears I would see the vague outline of a figure that had horns. I tried to resist it, utilizing every muscle in my body until they tore apart and I was no longer in control.
"I am standing in the halls of Spookville high, where two deaths and a disappearance took place. A photo was developed alongside the corpse of one local photographer Maxwell Jones. The photo contained the picture of the corpse and a strange figure behind it. The whereabouts of Ralph Scott has not been recovered but it has been believed that Ralph was the murderer. However, there are some who believe that it wasn't Ralph but rather the demonic spirits that plague the halls. This is Rebecca Richie, signing off. What is it Daniel? What do you mean there wasn't any video? AHHHHHHHHHH!!!"