Chapter 3 : The Girl at the Door

The ghost stories started on a Thursday, because Thursdays were boring and people needed something to talk about between dinner and study hour.

Lia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, combing her hair and acting mysterious.

“You know this hostel used to be a graveyard, right?” she said casually, like she was announcing the weather.

Kimmy looked up from her homework. “That’s impossible. Who builds a school in a graveyard?”

“People who get cheap land,” Lia said. “My cousin told me.”

“Your cousin also told you aliens built the pyramids,” I reminded her.

She flicked the comb at me. “Still true.”

Kaira was at the window, picking at the grass that grew through a crack in the ledge. “I heard something too,” she murmured. “Someone said if you pull the grass from the playground, you might find hair roots in it. Human hair.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“What?” I said, half-laughing.

She shrugged. “That’s what Sara in Class Six told me. Her roommate swears it happened. They pulled up a clump, and a hair came out with it—long and black.”

Kimmy grinned wickedly. “Maybe the ghost didn’t want a haircut.”

We laughed, but the sound felt thinner than usual.

The next day, everyone in the dorm was suddenly obsessed.

At break, groups of kids squatted around the playground, pretending to tie their shoelaces but secretly digging at the grass. When someone found a thread or root, the whole yard screamed like a crime had just been solved. The teachers scolded us for ruining the field, and that made the rumor even stronger.

That evening, after lights-out, we whispered about it again.

“What if it’s true?” I asked quietly.

Lia rolled over. “Even if it is, ghosts don’t mess with good students.”

“So we’re safe then,” Kimmy muttered.

We tried to laugh, but after everyone fell asleep, I couldn’t. I kept hearing small creaks- the sound of wood breathing or maybe the building remembering.

It happened two nights later.

The hostel was silent except for the fan clicking on its loose screw. I woke up because of a sound I couldn’t name- like someone dragging fabric across the floor. The moonlight through the window looked blue, almost metallic.

Then I saw it.

Something shiny at the foot of Kaira's bed. A flicker. I squinted. Maybe her bracelet is catching light? But it moved- slowly, side to side-like someone swaying.

My mouth went dry. I pulled up my blanket trying to make a safe barrier around me, just enough to see it, suddenly the door was half-open, the corridor light spilling in a pale stripe.

And then, a figure stepped inside.

Tall, wearing the senior girls’ night robe-the maroon one with the hostel logo on the chest. Short hair, loose. She walked straight in, quiet as breath, and stopped by Freya's bed- the one directly facing the door.

That figure bent down, like adjusting something. I wanted to ask what she was doing, but my voice refused. The figure straightened, turned slightly toward me or it was what I thought but they didn’t look at me. Then it left, closing the door softly behind.

The latch clicked.

For a long time, nothing moved. Then, just when my heartbeat started to slow, the door creaked open again.

Same figure. Same robe.

But this time, I found my voice.

“Um… who’s there?” I shined my torch at that figure with shaky hands.

The figure stopped mid-step. “It’s me-” a familiar voice said. “Why are you awake?”

It was Sister Clara, one of the senior girls from the floor above. She blinked at me in confusion, holding a flashlight.

“You were just here,” I said. “You went to Freya’s bed.”

“What? I just came down to check if someone left the lights on. Warden’s orders.”

I stared at her. She looked completely normal- sleepy, barefoot, not ghostly at all.

“Maybe you dreamt it,” she said gently. “Go back to sleep.”

She smiled, then really did leave this time, door clicking shut again.

The next morning, I told the others everything.

Kaira gasped like I’d announced a treasure.

“She came twice?”

“Yes. The first time, she didn’t talk. She went to Freya’s bed.”

(Freya was a quiet yet friendly girl when she opened up, she was a late comer and one of my friendly people)

Freya looked alarmed. “Why mine?”

“Maybe she thought you were cold,” Lia said trying to sound rational.

“Maybe it was just your blanket moving.” Kimmy added.

“But you saw her, right?” Kaira insisted.

“I did.” I said sighing.

That day, nobody wanted to nap after lunch. A group of kids even peeked into the seniors’ corridor, checking every robe. All were folded neatly in the laundry room.

At night, before lights-out, Priya herself stopped by our room.

“Who’s spreading ghost rumors again?” she asked, half-laughing.

Kimmy pointed at me instantly.

I protested, “I wasn’t spreading! Just reporting!”

Clara smiled. “Well, report this then- I was upstairs the whole time until I came down. The warden knows.”

She looked at me kindly, not teasing, just… curious.

“Sometimes when you’re half-awake,” she said, “your brain mixes dreams and shadows. Happens a lot here. The lights flicker, the curtains move, and you think something’s there.”

I nodded, though something in me wasn’t convinced.

"But the strangeness didn’t end there."

A week later, Kaira found a silver hairpin under her Bed. Not hers. Not anyone’s in the room. She showed it to us in the morning, holding it like evidence.

“Look familiar?” she asked.

It was simple- thin metal, shaped like a leaf. But when I turned it in my hand, a faint shimmer caught the light, exactly like what I’d seen that night.

Kimmy whispered, “Told you it was the graveyard ghost. She just accessories now.”

We laughed again- too loudly, too long. The warden knocked and told us to keep it down. But after she left, none of us talked for a while.

Life moved on. Classes, playground, gossip. The ghost story faded into the same category as cafeteria food complaints- fun to retell, easy to forget.

Still, some nights, when the wind slipped through the corridor and the curtains fluttered just right, I’d wake up thinking I heard that same soft dragging sound again.

And sometimes, in the early morning light, before everyone else stirred, I’d look toward the door half-expecting to see a sleeve of someone, disappearing into the dark.

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