On the other side of the school with Aman's group.
The three of them slowly pushed the door open. A faint creak echoed through the empty corridor as the washroom came into view—dusty mirrors, cracked tiles, spider webs , with fungus everywhere and faint water dripping somewhere in the back. The crying sound grew louder, more heart-wrenching.
After some time the crying stopped and it converted into a creepy laughter. A sudden chill spreads in their spines.
Kabir then said, "Bro, I am telling that ghost must be Dora The mocker. I am not going towards the voice."
Aman then said, "Just nonsense, bro. Don't act so scared and talk dumb."Kabir tightened his grip on his flashlight and replied, "Bro, I am not like Sameer."
[Scene shift → Dev's group]
The corridor was dead silent as Dev, Sameer, and Rishi walked side by side. Suddenly, Sameer sneezed.
Dev smirked instantly and said, "Someone is remembering your dumbness."Sameer groaned, "Whatever…" and kept walking, while Rishi chuckled softly. Together, they moved deeper into the darkness, their footsteps swallowed by the echoing halls.
[Scene shift → Aman's group]
The washroom tiles were cracked, water dripping slowly from a broken tap. The sound they had heard earlier echoed faintly from one of the stalls.
Aman and Kabir exchanged glances, their faces pale. They slowly approached the toilet door, the rusted latch hanging loosely. Kabir hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached out.
The door creaked loudly as they began to push it open, the smell of dampness and rot spilling out. Their heartbeats rose, echoing in their ears as the darkness inside the stall seemed to swallow the weak torchlight.
The toilet door creaked open fully. Aman and Kabir leaned forward cautiously, their breaths shallow. But as the weak torchlight lit up the stall…
It was empty.
Broken tiles, damp floor, and a faint smell of rust and rot — but nothing else.
Rohit frowned and stepped closer, whispering, "Bro… but this is the place where the crying and laughing sound came from."
Aman tightened his jaw, scanning the shadows with unease. Kabir's torch shook slightly in his grip, the emptiness of the stall somehow feeling more terrifying than if something had been inside.
As they were still analyzing where the sound came from, a new noise echoed — rapid footsteps, like something had just bolted out of the washroom. The sound was so sharp it sent a shiver down their spines.
Kabir froze and stammered, "B–bro, I'm sure that thing is Dora the Mocker… just trying to bully us. It's nonsense if we follow that thing!"
But when he turned, his eyes widened — Aman and Rohit were already gone, moving fast, chasing the sound through the dark corridor without hesitation.
"Arre, wait! You two are crazy!" Kabir whispered loudly, his voice trembling as he rushed after them, his torch beam bouncing wildly across the cracked walls.
The echo of their footsteps blended with the unknown one ahead… drawing them deeper into the suffocating silence of the school.
After a few minutes of chasing, the sound of footsteps suddenly stopped — vanishing into the silence as if it had never existed.
Aman slowed down, scanning the dark corridor with sharp eyes. Rohit stopped beside him, breathing heavily, his torchlight darting across cracked walls and broken windows. The air felt heavier now, almost pressing down on them.
A moment later, Kabir finally caught up, panting and holding his side.He glared at them and whispered harshly,"Are you guys dumb? Who told you to follow that thing — or sound? Huh?"
He sighed, frustrated."Anyways… did you even find something? 'Cause I'm tired of running after you two like this."
Aman didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, as though he still felt something was nearby. Rohit's grip tightened around his flashlight, unease written on his face.
Suddenly, Aman's sharp eyes caught something on the ground — dark blood stains, smeared across the cracked floor, leading toward a half-open room at the far end of the corridor.
He crouched, touched the mark lightly, then looked at the others."There… blood marks. They're leading somewhere," he said firmly.
Kabir's eyes widened."Bro, no way you're gonna follow this too…"
In his head, he thought, If I had Rishi's camera, I'd tell the audience straight — never follow unknown bloodstains into a creepy room. Especially in a haunted school.
But Aman straightened, his expression unshaken. "We're following it."
Rohit patted Kabir's back with a grin."Relax, bro. Nothing to worry, everything will be fine."
Aman's voice came out strong, almost like a vow:"It's my promise… nothing will happen to us."
Something about his tone steadied Kabir's nerves. He smirked, chest puffed out."Don't worry, bro. I'm okay. I'm not scared. I'm the bravest man on earth."
"BOOO!" whispered Rohit suddenly, right in Kabir's ear.
Kabir jumped a foot high, face pale, before realizing it was just Rohit. Rohit burst out laughing."Didn't I hear you say you were the bravest man on earth?"
Kabir's face flushed red with embarrassment. "I—I was not prepared, okay!"
Aman rolled his eyes with a faint smile. "Alright then… let's move on."
The three of them followed the trail, the corridor growing darker and quieter with each step.
The blood trail dragged them deeper until it ended at a heavy wooden door, its faded paint peeling off. Above it, a broken signboard barely clung to the rusted nails — ART ROOM (Primary Wing).
The three of them stopped, staring at the door in silence. The air here was colder, heavier… as if the room itself was waiting.
Kabir whispered, "Why… why is it always the creepy places? Couldn't it just lead us to the canteen?"
But Aman ignored him. His hand reached for the old iron handle. With slow, steady force, he began to push the door open.
The hinges groaned loudly, breaking the silence. Their heartbeats quickened in unison as the crack of darkness widened before them…
One by one, they stepped inside the art room. The smell of dust and damp paper hit them instantly, the faint creak of their footsteps echoing in the silence.
Aman entered first, torch raised, his eyes scanning every shadow. Rohit followed closely, tension visible on his face. Finally, Kabir stepped inside, hesitating for a moment before pulling the door shut behind him.
Just as the door closed, the notice board outside the room flickered strangely under the dim light of the corridor. A child's innocent drawing of a sunny day — trees, birds, and smiling faces — slowly shifted.
The colors bled, the smiles twisted into jagged mouths, the sun blackened, and the birds became distorted, eyeless figures. Within seconds, the "beautiful" drawing had turned into a horrifying sketch of screaming children and a looming shadow.
But none of them saw it. Inside the art room, they continued their search, unaware that something had already changed behind their backs.
On the far side of the school, silence shattered under the weight of heavy, deliberate footsteps.
Thud… thud… thud…
The sound echoed through the hollow corridor like a drum of doom. Out of the darkness emerged Arjun, walking with a swagger that oozed power. His hands were buried in his pockets, hood drawn low over his head, his face barely visible in the shadows.
A faint, unnatural red glow shimmered in his eyes, sharp and cold. His head was lowered, but every step carried a terrifying authority — as though the school itself bent to his presence.
Through a broken window, the pale moonlight slowly crept in, falling across his body. Bit by bit, his figure revealed itself: the hoodie swaying, his shoes tapping with rhythm, his aura thick with menace.
Arjun lifted his head slightly, a faint smirk curving his lips as the moonlight glinted off his eyes.
Arjun's slow, deliberate steps halted as something flitted across his path.
A girl stood there — a school uniform clinging to a pale, half-innocent, half-wrong body. Her face was a crooked split: one side almost cute, the other a twisted mask of rot and grin. She hovered a little above the cracked tiles, as if the air itself held her up.
She cocked her head, impressed. "Hey there," she cooed, voice syrupy and cold, "you're so cool — wanna be friends? You're… quite handsome." Her smile crawled across her face like something wet.
Arjun kept his head lowered, hood shadowing his features. "But… you're a ghost," he said flatly.
The girl's smile widened, and something hungry flickered in her voice. "Then I should kill you, so we can be friends forever." She lunged forward, a ragged, laughing motion.
For a heartbeat she looked confident. Then Arjun moved.
"You… are wrong," Arjun said quietly.
He lifted his head slowly. The red in his eyes flared, deeper, darker — not playful now, but cold and final. The ghost's grin faltered; some instinct told her she'd chosen the wrong prey.
Arjun then added, "You are the one who will die."
From his palm a thin thread unfurled — pale, humming with something old and hot. Not just a trick: a holy cord braided with mantras, a ghost-sting of his bloodline.
The girl's laughter hitched. She tried to dart away, but the thread whipped out, wrapped around her like a noose of light. She thrashed; the holy binding tightened with a sound like wind through bones.
Arjun stepped forward, placing one boot on her face to hold her steady. He leaned down until his shadow swallowed hers.
"Get lost," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "But before that… " He bend towards her "always remember — don't interfere with people unless you see their… eyes."
He crushed down her head. The girl went rigid; and them crumble into dust and slowly blows away. The surrounding floor also cracked by Arjun's power.
Arjun straightened, the red in his eyes paling as the moon slipped behind a cloud. He pulled the thread back into his sleeve, hood dropping further over his face, and continued down the corridor — a slow shadow melting back into the school's bones.
Now Inside the primary wing art room, dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed only by the faint beams of their torches. Broken benches leaned against the walls, a cupboard hung open with scraps of paper spilling out, and the floor was littered with scattered drawings — most twisted, childish sketches warped into something disturbing.
Aman looked around, his expression hard."Let's split. Hopefully, we'll find something useful."
They nodded, and each moved in different directions, searching through the ruined mess.
After a few minutes, Kabir's eyes caught on one paper pinned to the wall. His lips curled into a grin."Bro, look at this! This drawing is so horrible it's actually funny!"
He laughed, holding it up like a trophy.
Rohit turned and frowned, sighing."Don't make fun of it, Kabir. What if that child's ghost gets angry?" He shook his head and went back to searching.
Kabir chuckled, waving the drawing in front of his face."Bro, now you're the one talking dumb. How can a ghost get angry? Everyone who sees this thing will definitely laugh—"
Just as the words left his mouth, he lowered the paper.
A child's ghostly figure stood right in front of him. Its form was warped — uniform torn, eyes sunken, one half-smiling, the other side of its face mangled into something inhuman. The voice was soft, almost broken, but its words cut through Kabir like ice:
"Why are you laughing…? Is my drawing… bad?"
The room's temperature dropped instantly. Kabir froze, his grin wiped off his face in a heartbeat, the paper slipping from his trembling hands.
Kabir screamed after the ghost disappeared and said,"Bro, Dora the Mocker is mocking me!"
Rohit and Aman quickly ran towards him and asked,"What happened, bro?"
Kabir explained everything.
Rohit then said,"Bro, I told you not to interfere with ghost things."
Aman added,"Okay, then let's finish searching quickly and move on."
Kabir slowly calmed down and began searching again. The others continued too.
After some time, Kabir suddenly stepped on a drawing. He picked it up and said softly,"This drawing is kinda good… the colors are perfectly balanced. The child who made this could've been a great artist."
Just as he finished and lowered the drawing, the same ghostly child appeared and said with a pale smile,"Thank you…" before vanishing.
Kabir screamed again,"Dora the Mocker is mocking me again!"
Rohit and Aman rushed over once more. Rohit snapped,"What the heck, bro? Did you make fun of the drawings again?"
Kabir replied nervously,"No, bro… this time I actually praised it."
As they were talking, the art room door suddenly began to creak open.The three of them slowly shifted their gaze toward it.
Kabir gulped and whispered,"Bro… how did the door open on its own?"
Rohit, his voice trembling, replied,"Maybe… maybe it was just the wind."
Kabir quickly shot back,"But bro, there is no wind here!"
Before they could react further, a paper plane slowly drifted in through the doorway and gently smacked Kabir on the head.
Kabir yelled,"What the heck, bro! These bratty ghosts think my head is an airport!"
He was about to crumple the plane, but Aman stopped him and carefully took it from his hands.
Kabir frowned,"Bro… now you're acting like a child too."
But Aman ignored him, examining the plane closely. His expression turned serious."Look at this… this might be the drawing we've been searching for all this time. It looks creepy… strange."
Both Kabir and Rohit leaned in, staring at it with wide eyes."But bro," Rohit said, "this looks like only one-fourth of the whole thing. Where are the other parts?"
Aman thought for a moment before replying,"Maybe scattered somewhere around the school… who knows."
Then, with a faint smile, Aman patted Kabir on the head."Looks like your little 'praise' to that ghost child actually helped us in the search."
Kabir's cheeks turned red."Whatever…" he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.
But in his mind, he silently thanked the ghost child.
On the other side of the school, Arjun was walking down the dim corridor. Suddenly, he stopped, slowly tilting his head upward.
In a cold, low voice, he muttered,"Looks like they've found… the second piece."
For a brief moment, his eyes glowed a deep crimson before fading back to normal. A twisted smile crept across his face as he stepped forward, disappearing into the darkness.
Scene shifts back to Aman's group.
Aman glanced around the art room one last time before speaking firmly,"Looks like we won't find any other piece here. Let's move on."
The three of them nodded and quietly stepped out of the art room in the primary wing, the faint sound of creaking floorboards echoing behind them.
The three of them moved cautiously into the dark corridor, their footsteps echoing faintly against the silence of the school. The beam of Aman's torch cut through the thick shadows as they disappeared deeper into the darkness.
Just as they left, the notice board outside the art room—the one with the strange, distorted drawing—began to shift on its own. The grotesque lines twisted and melted away, slowly transforming back into a beautiful, innocent drawing made by a child.
But none of them turned back to see it.