Chapter 4: THE NEW STUDENT

Lyra, arrived on a cloudy afternoon that smelled like wet socks and chalk dust.

New students always drew attention in the hostel—half curiosity, half boredom.

She was tall, energetic, with the kind of vibe that made people talk more around her. Her hair fell straight on her shoulder, and she carried a single suitcase covered in faded star stickers.

When the warden led her to our room, we were in the middle of arguing over whose turn it was to clean the shoe rack.

“Girls!” the warden said, “This is Lyra. She’ll stay in this dorm from today onwards.”

Kimmy smiled first. “Hi! Don’t worry, we don’t bite. Except on Mondays.”

Lyra smiled doubtfully, not sure if it was a joke.

Her bed was the upper bunk near the door— just beside the first one everyone avoided because it caught the first blast of morning light. But she didn’t complain. She unpacked exited, folded her blanket into a neat square, and thanked the warden before she left.

That evening, during dinner, the girl who used to sleep on the upper bunk near the opposite wall, the one beside the door -suddenly announced she wanted to change beds.

“My back hurts from climbing,” she said, though we all knew she just hated the creaky ladder.

The warden scanned the room.

“Anyone willing to take her place?”

Nobody raised a hand. I was about to keep my eyes glued to my plate when she said,

“You’ve been asking for a view near the window, haven’t you?”

She meant me.

“....Yeah. But it was meant for a lower bunk..” I mumbled.

Because I don't believe that— I can stay still at my sleep without falling off the upper bunk.

“I… guess I can switch,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. The girls cheered softly, more relieved than encouraging.

So I packed my little kingdom- books, snacks, stuffed keychain and climbed up to the new bunk, the one just beside the door.

From up there, the world looked slightly different. I could see the hallway light leaking in through the door gap, the edges of other bunks below and the curtain swaying faintly with the fan’s wind. The wood creaked under my knees, but the height felt strange and fun, like balancing on top of a story.

“Looks good on you,” Kaira said from below.

“Feels like I’m closer to the ghosts,” I whispered back.

She threw a pillow at me.

Night fell like it always did- slowly, lazily.

The corridor outside quieted. The fan above the door creaked its usual rhythm, creak-creak-pause-creak, like an old person sighing in their sleep.

I dozed off to that sound.

At some point in the night, I stirred. My arm felt cold. The fan was still humming, but my blanket wasn’t there. I blinked into the dark, confused.

My woollen blanket had somehow slipped off and fallen to the floor below.

The air felt sharper without it. I tucked my arms in, shivering. Then I remembered- my spare summer blanket was right beside my pillow. Easy reach.

But there was one problem.

I was facing the door. And I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes.

Because something in me — that small, irrational part that still believed in whispers

-told me not to.

The room was too quiet. Too still.

I kept my eyelids shut tight, heart hammering.

I told myself— just turn, grab the blanket, nothing’s there.

But my hands wouldn’t move.

What if something was standing by the door?

What if it was watching me?

My breath went shallow. I folded my knees closer to my chest.

I could feel tears pricking, that weird mix of fear and helplessness— that made me wish I could disappear under the mattress.

Then I heard it — the creak of the ladder.

Slow. One step. Then another.

The sound was unmistakable. The metal frame shifting under weight, the tiny squeal of screws. The exact sound I made every night when climbing up.

Someone- or something was coming up.

My pulse pounded so hard that I thought it would wake the others. I wanted to scream, but my throat had locked itself shut.

Another creak. Closer.

And then- nothing.

Just silence.

I couldn’t bear it anymore. In one desperate motion— I turned, grabbed the summer blanket beside my pillow, and wrapped it around myself so tightly it hurt. I stayed that way, eyes closed, facing the Lyra's bed.

The fan above groaned again, like it was tired too.

I whispered a shaky prayer, the kind I used to say during storms when I was little.

“Please, God, please make the morning come fast.”

I must’ve stayed awake for an hour before I whispered,

“Lyra?”

No answer.

I tried again, softer. “Lyra… are you awake?”

This time, there was a faint stir above me.

“Mmm?” her voice came, groggy.

“I… can’t sleep,” I whispered. “Something… weird happened.”

The bunk above shifted. Then her feet dangled over the side, and she leaned down slightly. “You okay?”

I nodded, though she couldn’t see it.

“Come,” she whispered. “Let’s go to the bathroom. Sometimes walking helps.”

The hallway lights stung my eyes when we stepped out. The cold tiles under our feet felt almost grounding.

As we walked toward the washroom, our voices sounded louder than usual.

“What happened?” Lyra asked softly.

“My blanket fell. I was too scared to move. Then I heard… something climbing.”

She frowned. “Maybe it was just the wind shaking the frame.”

“The wind doesn’t climb ladders,” I said.

She smiled, the kind of half-smile that people give when they want to believe you but don’t want to believe in ghosts.

“Next time, just call me,” she said.

“Next time?” I groaned.

“You think there’ll be a next time?”

She laughed under her breath. “Hopefully not.”

We stayed in the washroom a while, splashing water on our faces, talking about random things- movies, food, anything that didn’t sound like fear. When we went back, I picked up my fallen woollen blanket from the floor. It was— colder than it should’ve been.

I climbed back up, still trembling a little.

Lyra whispered a soft “Good night” from the side, and eventually, the creak of the fan filled the silence again.

Just as I began to drift, a noise broke the stillness- a quick gasp from the opposite side of the dorm. Then a soft whimper.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” someone whispered a bit tensed.

It was Mia, from the bunk opposite from ours. The one beside her— Thea, she was sitting up, eyes wide, breathing fast. Her face was pale in the dim corridor light.

“What’s wrong?” Lyra whispered to her softly half-awake.

Thea’s voice shook. “There was- there was someone.”

“Where?” Mia asked.

“Down there. On the ground… between the beds.” She pointed her hands shaking as she gasped for breath—straight toward the space below me and Lyra’s bunks.

“What do you mean, someone?”

“A woman. Or a girl. Hair all down. Sitting there. Saying something.”

The whole room froze for us.

“What did she say?” I asked quietly. Thea’s eyes darted to me. Her lips trembled.

“She said- Give it back to me.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Nobody breathed.

Lyra leaned over her bunk railing, looking down. I followed her gaze, my heart knocking at my ribs. The faint blue light from the corridor fell just enough to show the empty space below.

Nothing.

Just the shadow of our blankets, slightly shifting with the fan’s air.

“Maybe you were dreaming,” Mia said after a moment, the voice was too sharp, too quick.

Thea just hugged her knees, whispering, “I wasn’t.”

I didn’t argue. Because deep down, I knew -whatever she saw, it felt too close to what I’d felt.

The blanket. The ladder. The cold breath of something that didn’t belong.

Lyra and I locked eyes among ourselves. Neither of us said a word.

Outside, the fan creaked again. Creak-creak-pause-creak.

Somewhere down the hall, a door clicked shut all by itself.

"Now I know—why that girl made an excuse to change the bed. —Morning lights my foot." I mumbled before covering my whole body like a cocoon.

And none of us slept until the first light of morning crawled through the curtains.

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