Ghost Story
"Long before this school was built, or even before it was thought of, there was a shoe factory on these very grounds..."
If there was ever a ghost story more popular than the one at the banyan tree, it was here in our school.
Like most school myths, it was handed down from grade to grade by word of mouth. As a result, almost all the students knew it by heart. Not unusually, there was that one student who could recite the whole thing better than the rest.
"On these very grounds that you and I stand" continued Kelvin. Kelvin was that person of our class. It was the interval. All of us gathered around around Kelvin. Some were sitting on chairs, some were sitting on tables. But everyone 's eyes were fixed on Kelvin.
"...was once a large shoe factory". All of us have already heard this tale several times but every time we heard it, we found new meaning in it. The girls were munching away the time in yet another gathering.
"The rubber used is melted in a gigantic cauldron. Obviously, the whole room was lava-hot."
Somebody brought a packet of murukku. This would pass at least thrice through one pair of hands. If there was a gathering, the best snack was a murukku; at 50 rupees a packet, every rupee was worth it.
"It was so hot that, if one ever was unfortunate enough to accidentally breathe that heated air,... His lungs would vaporise before he could even know what was happening".
"Oohs" and "aahs" would echo through the audience. The person who could produce the most 'ooh's and 'aah's from the audience was crowned the championed story teller.
"Only one person in that entire factory was skilled enough to go to that room to stir that massive cauldron. Even he had to wear a steel suit." The girls left the class. This signalled us that the interval was almost over.
"He would carry not more than two tanks of oxygen. This would last him only 30 small minutes. By that time, he would have to climb down the stairs, stir the cauldron 3 times and exit the room. Some say that his body was made of stone, including his lungs" If anybody had any questions, they would have to try hard and keep their mouths shut. Otherwise everyone would start shoving the empty packet down his throat.
"One day, he entered the chamber...but never returned. It was told that he suffocated to death after a pipe of the oxygen tank burst open...Some even day that he was murdered by someone...or something... down there. Anyway his body, it was never found". Everyone's eyes were unblinking. Muscles tensed...
"The exit door was left open for ages and the heat escaped, vengeance in its mind... The whole factory was burnt to ashes but the walls of that chamber were...burnt to the ground. Of course it was sealed before the school was built. Yet... the story lives on... They say that this school is C-U-R-S-E-D"
Sounds of fear emerged from their small mouths.
"If anyone doubts me, he can go this very instance to the very corner of Corridor C. If he could muster all the courage and go there, he would see a cracked grey tile. It is said that this tile was the only thing that hadn't melted in that ferocious fire. If one tapped on this tile thrice, he'll hear faint voice resembling a man screaming in unreal PAIN..."
Suddenly, the bell rang...
If there was ever a ghost story more popular than the one at the banyan tree, it was here in our school.
Like most school myths, it was handed down from grade to grade by word of mouth. As a result, almost all the students knew it by heart. Not unusually, there was that one student who could recite the whole thing better than the rest.
"On these very grounds that you and I stand" continued Kelvin. Kelvin was that person of our class. It was the interval. All of us gathered around around Kelvin. Some were sitting on chairs, some were sitting on tables. But everyone 's eyes were fixed on Kelvin.
"...was once a large shoe factory". All of us have already heard this tale several times but every time we heard it, we found new meaning in it. The girls were munching away the time in yet another gathering.
"The rubber used is melted in a gigantic cauldron. Obviously, the whole room was lava-hot."
Somebody brought a packet of murukku. This would pass at least thrice through one pair of hands. If there was a gathering, the best snack was a murukku; at 50 rupees a packet, every rupee was worth it.
"It was so hot that, if one ever was unfortunate enough to accidentally breathe that heated air,... His lungs would vaporise before he could even know what was happening".
"Oohs" and "aahs" would echo through the audience. The person who could produce the most 'ooh's and 'aah's from the audience was crowned the championed story teller.
"Only one person in that entire factory was skilled enough to go to that room to stir that massive cauldron. Even he had to wear a steel suit." The girls left the class. This signalled us that the interval was almost over.
"He would carry not more than two tanks of oxygen. This would last him only 30 small minutes. By that time, he would have to climb down the stairs, stir the cauldron 3 times and exit the room. Some say that his body was made of stone, including his lungs" If anybody had any questions, they would have to try hard and keep their mouths shut. Otherwise everyone would start shoving the empty packet down his throat.
"One day, he entered the chamber...but never returned. It was told that he suffocated to death after a pipe of the oxygen tank burst open...Some even day that he was murdered by someone...or something... down there. Anyway his body, it was never found". Everyone's eyes were unblinking. Muscles tensed...
"The exit door was left open for ages and the heat escaped, vengeance in its mind... The whole factory was burnt to ashes but the walls of that chamber were...burnt to the ground. Of course it was sealed before the school was built. Yet... the story lives on... They say that this school is C-U-R-S-E-D"
Sounds of fear emerged from their small mouths.
"If anyone doubts me, he can go this very instance to the very corner of Corridor C. If he could muster all the courage and go there, he would see a cracked grey tile. It is said that this tile was the only thing that hadn't melted in that ferocious fire. If one tapped on this tile thrice, he'll hear faint voice resembling a man screaming in unreal PAIN..."
Suddenly, the bell rang...
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| Image courtesy of http://www.camelcitydispatch.com/serial-arsonist-arrested-and-charged/flames-from-fire/ |
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