TRUE story

TRUE story

Elizabeth's School Spirits

Magnolia Avenue Elementary in

California: for 12-year-old me, that

school was the furthest thing from

normal. Rumors flew thick and fast

about Magnolia – some people said

that before it was a school, it was a

mansion, later destroyed to build a

mental institution. Death seemed to

have its hand on the mental

institution, because it was soon

turned into a cemetery. Some tales

claimed that the school was built

right on top of the cemetery without

the dead bodies being removed.

The stories were real enough to me.

I avoided being alone as much as

possible, but for a shy, lonely fifth-

grader like me, it was nigh

impossible to always travel with

someone. Everywhere I went

through the hallways, I could feel

gazes on me. Sometimes, an

invisible hand would touch me, or a

voice would whisper my name. No

matter how hard I looked, I could

never see anyone there.

One day, I raised my hand in class

to ask if I could use the restroom.

No one was in the bathroom; I

made sure of that before I settled in

to relieve myself. As I was wrapping

up, I heard the door slam. I peered

around the edge of the swinging

door, but saw nothing – until the

lights began to flicker.

Then I saw the shadowy figure of a

girl. She began to talk in a sing-song

voice, and I stood there and listened

to her. Fear paralyzed me, but

curiosity kept me from overcoming

that terror. She told me how she

died, and then she moved her hand

to indicate the ceiling. I knew what I

would see there, and I didn’t want

to follow her gesture, but it was as if

there was an invisible string attached

to my head. There she was, her

dead body, dangling in the middle

of the bathroom, swinging gently.

Footsteps interrupted my horrified

observation, and I jerked to see that

the girl was gone. Some of my

classmates came in, gossiping and

giving me strange looks. I hurried

back to class, vowing never to return

to that bathroom.

I found another restroom near the

cafeteria, and for a while, I was able

to go in peace. Then my friends

sniffed out the story about my

terrifying experience and, knowing I

was prone to such fears, decided to

dig up another tale of woe.

They told me that a girl went crazy in

one of the bathrooms – though no

one seemed to know which it was –

and that before she hung herself in

the big tree right outside, she was

raped by the school janitor. The

cruel man then locked her in the

bathroom for a long weekend,

without food or water and only her

thoughts to keep her company.

Her thoughts became her reality:

soon after the janitor let her out

(after forcing her to swear she

would never tell, on pain of death),

she would scream randomly,

pointing at mirrors all throughout

the school. She saw something

there, she would desperately tell

anyone who would listen. After

everyone rejected her story, she

climbed into the tree, tied a rope

around her neck, and hung herself.

It was the story of the girl from the

first bathroom. I led my friends back

there and we scoured the mirror.

After a while, I spotted a black dot,

which my friends claimed shifts

spots every time you return and look

in the mirror anew.

We all had our own theories about

the spot. Some of us thought it was

the soul of the girl, trapped forever

with her demons to haunt her.

Others said it was the devil’s spot,

trying to claim another young soul in

that bathroom.

At any rate, we stayed out of there.