Set-Up
July 5, 1992…
I walked past the classroom as fast as my legs could manage. I had to. It was the second recess of the day in my school. As usual, the canteen was packed with students. I could see the canteen in a distance.
‘Just a few steps…’ I tried to coax myself. I knew I could do it.
Everybody in the school surroundings, from the primary students to the school attendants talked about this classroom. It was haunted. There had been stories revolving around it, but each time they were about to be mentioned, I would just move away to another area. I was too timid to stand there and listen.
I was walking a little faster now.
“Click. Click. Click.”
I heard it loud and clear. It was the sound of someone snapping his fingers. ‘Probably just a student,’ I thought to myself. I continued walking.
“Click. Click.”
I stopped. A part of me badly wanted to turn around and run back to the canteen. It did not matter that I had left my wallet back in class. I could borrow from my friends, or I could always skip tea. Then I realised something. As I stopped, the noise had stopped too!
I ran all the way to the canteen, without even bothering to think twice!
July 7, 1992…
“Damn it! Not again!” I mutter under my breath.
“What was it, Meena?” Cik Hazila enquired.
“Nothing.”
“You’d better run along now.” She ordered.
“Yes. Ma’am.”
I sighed. I was told to collect some ice cubes from the canteen for our mini-Science project. Along the way, I had to walk past that classroom. I walked quickly, trying not to linger in the vicinity longer than necessary, keeping my eyes fixed on the canteen ahead.
When I was outside the classroom, curiosity made me take a peek into the classroom. What I saw in there made my blood curdle.
In the middle of the classroom, a severed head was suspended from the ceiling fan. The face was pale and colourless as it spun around slowly with the moving fan. As if it knew I was staring, the eyes, which were shut, snapped open and looked straight at me, the eyeballs following my every movement.
“Cik Hazilah!” I screamed in fright and dashed back to my class.
July 8, 1992…
“Meera, I’ve been watching you of late. I notice that you seem to be in a world of your own. You seemed so frightened and ignored everyone who tried to talk to you. What is wrong?” Cik Hazilah enquired.
I could feel all eyes in the classroom on me. Embarrassed as I was, I knew I had to tell them what I saw. And I did, even if it meant scaring everyone else to death.
When I ended my story, Cik Hazilah smiled at me. It was clear that she thought I made the story up.
“I swear I saw all those things!” I insisted.
“If you really did see those things, then how come the school attendant saw scribbling of your signatures on the blackboard of that classroom?” One of my classmates questioned.
“What?” I froze.