The sound of Angela Thorne’s suitcase wheels echoed through the narrow stone corridors of Prager Academy. Her parents had left an hour ago, their departure abrupt and awkward, as if they couldn’t wait to leave her behind. Angela didn’t blame them. After her brother’s death, everything had changed. Smiles became scarce. Conversations turned curt. Prager was supposed to be her fresh start—a place to escape her grief, or at least bury it alongside the other secrets this ancient school held. The dormitory room wasn’t much to look at: four-poster bed, a desk, and a small, dusty window that barely let in the pale afternoon light. But what drew Angela’s attention was the faint scratching sound coming from the far wall. She froze. Heart thudding, she tilted her head, listening. It stopped as abruptly as it had started. Shaking her head, she let out a breath. “It’s just an old building,” she muttered to herself. Yet that night, when she tossed and turned in her creaky bed, the sounds came again—not scratches this time, but whispers. Faint and indistinct, like wind brushing through leaves. She pressed her pillow over her ears, telling herself it was her imagination.
Days passed, and Angela kept her head down, navigating the bustle of the school as best she could. She sat alone in the dining hall, answered questions minimally in her classes, and only spoke when her strict history teacher, Professor Agatha Grey, called on her directly. It wasn’t until the third week, on a rainy evening, that Angela discovered the journal. She had been searching for her misplaced chemistry notebook when her hand brushed against something wedged deep behind her desk drawer. Tugging it free, she unveiled a small leather-bound book, its cover cracked with age. Frowning, she opened it. The first page bore a name written in neat, looping script: Mandy Hawthorne, 1952. Beneath it, a single sentence sent a chill down Angela’s spine: The truth hides in the walls.
Angela flipped through the pages. They were filled with Mandy’s handwriting, detailing her life at Prager Academy—mundane musings about classes, pranks, and late-night snacks, but as the entries progressed, the tone grew darker. Mandy began mentioning strange things: whispers at night, messages carved into the stone walls, and “the hidden room where it all happened.” The final entry read: I’m close to uncovering the truth now. If anything happens to me, someone must continue my search. The school must know what they’ve done. Angela closed the journal, her hands trembling. She wasn’t sure whether she was more scared or intrigued. Who was Mandy Hawthorne? And what had she been trying to uncover?
The next day, Angela couldn’t concentrate in class. Her thoughts kept drifting to the journal and its cryptic warnings. During lunch, she overheard a group of students at the next table whispering about a boy named Lucas Bohmel. “He’s always snooping around forbidden places,” one girl said. “I heard he found a hidden staircase in the library last term,” another added. Angela’s pulse quickened. If anyone knew how to find answers, it was him. That evening, Angela swallowed her nerves and sought him out. She found Lucas in the common room, surrounded by a circle of laughing students. He was tall and confident, with unruly dark hair and an air of mischief that seemed to draw people to him.
“Lucas,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He turned his piercing gray eyes on her, raising an eyebrow. “And who might you be?”
“Angela. Angela Thorne. I… heard you’re good with mysteries.”
There was a flicker of interest in his expression. “I dabble. Why?”
She hesitated, then thrust Mandy’s journal at him. “I think… I think there’s something strange happening here. And this might explain it.”
Lucas took the journal, flipping through its pages. His easygoing demeanor shifted as he read, his face growing serious. “Where did you find this?”
“In my room,” Angela admitted. “But I think Mandy might be right. The walls… they whisper.”
To her relief, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Meet me after curfew. The east wing corridor.” Then he handed the journal back with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve stumbled onto something big, Angela.” That night, Angela crept through the darkened halls of Prager Academy, her flashlight casting long shadows on the stone walls. She found Lucas waiting for her in the east wing, along with two other students: Felix, a lanky boy with glasses, and Priya, a no-nonsense girl who seemed unimpressed by Angela’s presence.
“This better be worth risking detention,” Priya muttered.
“It will be,” Lucas said, holding up the journal. “Mandy Hawthorne believed there was a hidden room in this school—one tied to a dark secret. If it’s here, we’re going to find it.”
The group spent hours searching, tapping on walls and checking for hidden mechanisms. Just when Angela was about to give up, Priya let out a triumphant shout. “Here!” She pointed to a section of wall where the stone sounded hollow when tapped.
Lucas grinned. “Good work, Priya. Now, let’s see…”
After some effort, they managed to push the stone inward, revealing a narrow passageway. The air inside was cold and stale, carrying the scent of forgotten decay. Angela’s heart raced as they stepped into the darkness. The passage led to a small, hidden room. In the center, a wooden desk stood covered in dust. On it lay a stack of old papers and a tarnished locket. The walls were covered in strange carvings—names, dates, and fragmented phrases like Silence Them and No One Must Know. Angela picked up the locket, opening it to reveal a black-and-white photo of a young girl. Beneath the photo was an inscription: Mandy Hawthorne, always brave.
“She was here,” Angela whispered. “She found this place.”
“And someone didn’t want her to,” Lucas said grimly, holding up one of the papers. It was an old letter, faded with age: To the Headmaster: The incident cannot be made public. Ensure all evidence is destroyed.
“What incident?” Felix asked, his voice trembling.
Lucas frowned. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, it was bad enough to cover up.”
The next morning, Angela took one of the letters to Professor Grey, hoping the history teacher might shed some light on it. Professor Grey paled as she read the letter, her hands shaking slightly before she set it down.
“This… this is dangerous, Angela,” she said quietly. “Some secrets are better left buried.”
“What happened here, Professor?” Angela pressed. “Mandy Hawthorne tried to tell the truth, and she disappeared. Don’t you think the school deserves to know?” Professor Grey hesitated, then sighed heavily. “There was an accident. In 1952, a teacher lost control during a disciplinary session. A student was hurt—badly. Mandy witnessed it and tried to speak out, but the school silenced her. Officially, it was ruled an accident. Unofficially… Mandy was expelled, and no one ever heard from her again.”
Angela’s stomach churned. “They covered it up.”
“Yes. And if you dig too deeply, they’ll do the same to you.”
Angela left the office feeling both horrified and determined. She couldn’t let Mandy’s story go untold. That night, she shared what she’d learned with Lucas and the others. Together, they decided to act. The group worked in secret, gathering evidence from the hidden room and Mandy’s journal. They even managed to find a forgotten school newspaper article that hinted at the incident. Finally, they presented their findings to the students during a school assembly, standing on stage with trembling hands as they recounted the truth. At first, there was silence. Then a wave of murmurs swept through the crowd. Some students were angry, others shocked.
The headmaster tried to dismiss their claims, but Professor Grey stood up, lending her voice to their cause. “The time for silence is over,” she said firmly. “We owe it to the past to confront the truth.” The revelation sent ripples through the school. The administration issued a public apology, and measures were taken to ensure accountability moving forward. Angela, once the shy new girl, found herself at the center of it all. For the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of purpose—of belonging. As the ghost of Mandy Hawthorne’s legacy finally found peace, Angela realized she had, too.
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