Sophia walked with a heavy heart towards the front of the dimly lit chapel, where Sister Margaret lay in state. Her face was shrouded in the faint glow of flickering candles, casting eerie shadows across the room.
“Quiet!” Sophia hissed at Emily, who was stifling giggles beside her. Emily's finger pointed mischievously at Margaret’s serene, waxen face, while Rose, trying to stifle her own laughter, stifled a snicker. Both girls were barely able to contain their mirth, their attempts to suppress it failing miserably.
It was a day marked by sorrow at the convent. Sister Margaret, who had been vibrant and full of life in her thirties, had met an untimely end in a tragic accident. Now, she lay draped in a bed of roses, surrounded by students who were supposed to offer their respects, though their understanding of death seemed as shallow as their grasp of its gravity.
Emily found humor in the cold expression of the deceased, reminiscent of the stern look Margaret would give them when they misbehaved. Margaret’s nose would flare up comically during scoldings, a trait Emily and Rose used to mimic in their dormitory. Rose was particularly adept at imitating Margaret’s mannerisms, turning them into a source of amusement.
“This is unacceptable,” Sophia said, her voice trembling with frustration. “You are at a funeral. Show some respect!”Her voice cut through the room like a knife, and Emily and Rose fell silent, their laughter extinguished by the gravity of the situation. The sanctity of the moment demanded reverence.
When it was finally Sophia’s turn to pay her respects, she approached the casket with a heavy heart. Sister Margaret had always been a figure of authority and encouragement, never showing impatience with Sophia’s endless questions or mistakes. She had been a bright spot in Sophia’s life, guiding her with kindness and patience.
Sophia studied Margaret’s serene face, marveling at how lifelike she appeared, as if she might rise at any moment and demand the children return to their studies. The rigid stillness of Margaret’s features seemed almost artificial, a cruel reminder of the finality of death.Sophia peered closely at Margaret’s eyes, which had always been a striking shade of pale blue. In a fleeting, unsettling moment, she imagined those eyes opening, staring back at her with a knowing smile.
The thought was interrupted by a voice behind her. “Move it, Sophia!”Startled, she turned to see Percy impatiently waiting for her turn. She glanced back at Margaret, whose body remained unchanged, a grim testament to her permanent silence. Sophia’s moment of reverie had been shattered.
Afternoon Shadows
Later, during recess, while the other girls played handball outside, Sophia remained in the chapel, her thoughts consumed by the morning’s events. She watched the lively children from the window, their faces glowing with the carefree joy of youth, so starkly contrasting the somber scene inside.
Sophia was struck by how easily life seemed to move on, oblivious to the profound finality of death. To her, it felt as though the world simply shut its eyes to the enormity of loss, treating it as a fleeting inconvenience rather than a profound and irrevocable change.
Emily approached her, breathless from running. “What’s wrong, Sophia? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Nothing,” Sophia replied, her voice distant. “I’m just not in the mood to join you. I’ll head to the study hall.”
Emily and Rose exchanged worried glances, but Sophia was already heading towards the corridor, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. As she walked, she overheard Rose’s mutter, “What a buzzkill.”
In the Study Hall
The study hall was nearly deserted when Sophia entered, the heavy door creaking on its hinges. Only three other girls were inside, their initial alarm fading when they realized it was just another student. They quickly returned to their clandestine magazines.
Sophia took her place at the front row, her mind swirling with the morning’s events. The muffled laughter and whispers of the other girls grated on her nerves. She could barely concentrate on her studies, her thoughts drifting back to the haunting image of Sister Margaret.
Her concentration was shattered by the realization of her isolation. The room, once bustling with activity, felt eerily quiet. As she tried to focus on her book, a chilling thought crept into her mind: What if Margaret’s spirit was still bound to the convent?
A wave of dread washed over her as she imagined Margaret’s presence lingering in the shadows. The memory of the sister’s stern face, so familiar and comforting, now seemed menacing. She could almost hear Margaret’s voice whispering from the past, calling out to her from beyond the grave.
Suddenly, Sophia heard a whisper, barely audible. “Sophia…”She spun around, her eyes darting across the dim corners of the room. The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, a chilling echo from another time. Desperate to dismiss it as a trick of her imagination, she buried her face in her book.
But the thought of Margaret’s spirit never leaving troubled her. What if the sister’s attachment to the convent was so strong that she couldn’t move on?The flickering bulb above her began to stutter, its light casting long, eerie shadows. The whisper grew louder, now coming from directly behind her desk. Panic surged through Sophia. She bolted for the door, only to find it stuck fast. She pounded on it, her cries for help echoing through the empty hall.
“Help! Open the door! Please!” Her pleas were met with a haunting silence, the flickering light plunging the room into darkness.Outside, the other girls heard her cries and rushed to the door. They pushed with all their might, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s jammed! Try from the other side!” someone shouted. The urgency in their voices grew as they called for help.
Emily arrived, pushing everyone aside. With a determined heave, she forced the door open. The light from the corridor spilled into the study hall, revealing Sophia huddled on the floor, tears streaming down her face. She looked disoriented and terrified, her earlier composure shattered.Emily enveloped her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay, Sophia. You’re safe now,” she whispered, guiding her out of the room.
That Night in the Dormitory
The night in the convent was usually filled with hushed conversations about ghosts and ghouls, a ritual that both frightened and fascinated the girls. But tonight was different. The incident with Sophia was the talk of the dormitory, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of fear and speculation.
Emily and Rose stayed up late, trying to soothe Sophia’s frayed nerves. They shared stories and laughter, their voices a comforting balm against the chilling memory of the study hall. As the night wore on, the conversation turned lighter, but the shadows of the day lingered.
When it was time to sleep, Emily reassured Sophia, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”Sophia nodded, her eyes weary. As her friends settled down, she lay awake, her mind troubled by the unsettling experiences of the day.
In the dead of night, she awoke to the same disquieting sound she had heard earlier—a heavy, labored breathing coming from right behind her. Her heart pounded as she lay still, her face pressed against the pillow. The breathing was unmistakably close, and the fear that gripped her was paralyzing.
She dared not turn around, her mind racing with the horrifying thought of Sister Margaret’s ghost standing over her. The breathing continued, relentless and oppressive. The sound grew fainter as if the presence was retreating, moving towards the door and then disappearing into the hallway.
Eventually, the room fell silent. Sophia turned cautiously, but the room was empty, save for her sleeping friends. She clutched her blanket tightly and turned to face the door, her heart heavy with an unshakable sense of dread. The feeling of loss and sorrow lingered, a ghostly reminder of the day’s events.
As she lay there, the fear gradually ebbed, replaced by an overwhelming sadness she couldn’t quite understand. She closed her eyes, trying to find solace in sleep, but the memory of that oppressive breathing stayed with her, a chilling reminder of the inexplicable and the unseen.
