Choir Room Three

Author's note: Hello.

This is my attempt at a Creepypasta. It may not come out as one, and most likely will come out reading like a Trollpasta, but know that there was an attempt.

Now, we proceed.

---

I am 21 years of age, barely at the prime of my life, but the things I have seen, things I've learned, they would shock no one. The world is a cold, bitter place, and my story today is about my late friend, Shiloh McNamara. She and I went to middle school together, a military school called R.G.C Junior High. It was your average middle school, well, for a military school. Bit strict on the dress code, and the teachers were sometimes a tad drill-sergeant-esque, but it was nice.

Sometimes.

There was a practice room next to the gym, an old choir room. It's less of a legend than it was a long-time rumour, but before I moved to town there was a collapse in the building. A pipe burst, releasing nitrogen from the science building into the room. The entire class suffocated, or as the autopsy rumour said, 'they drowned on land'. But they closed the room, and renovated it to be a detention room, bringing me to the current story. Shiloh had met up with me after detention, as usual, to walk to the bus stop. "Hey, Shiloh. Ms. Davenport give you too much grief?" She didn't answer, so I snapped my fingers in her face. "Earth to McNamara. Houston wants to know how the clouds are." She grabbed my hand. "Liv, do you believe in ghosts?" I was a bit confused, but started to laugh, thinking it was a joke. "Pff, sure. Bigfoot, too." She let go of my hand. "Heh, yeah, it does sound silly doesn't it..."she trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck. The bus screeched to a stop, and before I could ask anymore questions, she got on board. I sat next to her, studying her face. She had a sullen, empty look on her face. "Shiloh? Are you okay?" She looked up at me, her eyes seemed hollow. "I hear the children, Liv. The poor, drowning children...."she mumbled. I moved away from her, very creeped out. "Shiloh, what the actual hell?" She blinked. "Huh?" The bus stopped in front of my house. "Dude, what happened in detention? You're acting very not normal."

"Your stop, Ms. Jacobs."

I stood up. "See you tomorrow, Shy."

I would see Shiloh tomorrow, but not my best friend.

That night, while the town slept, a nightmare wormed it's way into my dreams. It was dark, a roiling sky of red and black clouds obscuring the light of a blood moon. I was standing in a field, the football field from school. I rubbed my eyes, hoping to wake up, but the dismal scenery stayed before me. I noticed another person standing across the field. Still in her pajamas, Shiloh trudged through the mud and grass of the football field, making her way towards me. As she did, I noticed that she had no mouth, or eyes for that matter. I held in a snicker at the googly eyes pasted on in lieu of eyes. "What kind of nightmare is this?" I giggled, but stopped as the lookalike's eyes lifted and stared at me. It raised an arm, making a crackling sound as it did so. "Stop it." I said sternly, as if that would work. It pointed towards the school, creaking miserably. "I'm not going in there." I said, backing up. It grabbed my wrist, the iron grip causing me to wince.

Creak

It started pulling me toward the school, despite my attempts to pull away. "Let me go!!"I shouted, unable to process the feeling of pain. Wind tore around the building, and I realized that words were being spoken.

We were so young...

I wrenched my hand away from the lookalike, only to be shoved into a room.

We couldn't scream..

I whirled around, looking for the voice, but was only met with darkness. "Show yourself!!

They didn't look...

Hands grabbed at my clothes, throwing me around. I cried out, trying to wake up.

We can scream now.

I was pushed to the floor, only to continue falling into an endless pit. I screamed, reaching out to grab something, anything!

Can you hear our voices?

I fell to the floor of my room, breathing heavily. I grabbed at my shirt, my heart was beating a mile a minute, I couldn't breathe.

Can you hear our cries?

Our whispers, echoing through the walls of Choir Room Three?

Comments • 1

Loading comments...