Red
I have two stories to share, both of which happened in the same elementary school. For now, let me tell you the first one.
I think I was about seven or eight years old when the first incident happened, meaning that I would be in my second or third year in that school. I wound in on the afternoon session, which began at 1 PM and ended at 6 PM.
In addition to the regular class hours, I also attended a music class – an extracurricular activity held between 8 PM and 9 PM. Looking back at it now, I often believed that the schedule was beyond the late hours, considering my age at that time. But to be fair, it was the only time when the classes would be empty, plus it gave the hardworking teachers a moment of reprieve.
As for me, I liked the late-night activity as it gave me a sense of adventure and curiosity when exploring the otherwise-lively corridors.
One night, probably the same as the other nights, I was with about a dozen more fellow students and three teachers to practice our lessons. I don’t think we were that diligent when it came to learning; I mean, we were having fun most of the time, and the teachers were awesome enough to join in on a few occasions, making us often forget that we were the only people in the school. But during the bulk of our sessions, we were told to be serious, seeing that these lessons were vital to an upcoming interschool music contest.
We occupied two classrooms for our lessons: one for a teacher and at least two students to perform to gauge our skills. And the class next to it was occupied for the remaining attendees to hang around. We were always assigned to random classes on either the ground or the first floor. For this particular night, it was the latter.
Anyway, about half an hour into our session, I finished up my performance with another student, and both of us headed to the next class to call upon the next two students next in line.
However, a few minutes after getting settled into the fun, I needed to go to the washroom. And so, I sought the teacher’s permission to go to one of the two washrooms, each located at the opposite ends of the corridor. Though the other classrooms on the floor were dark, the corridors themselves were fully lit up, easily guiding my way. I took the path on the left, as that was my default destination.
Without much of a care in the world, I walked slowly, looking through the handrails to my right to observe the courtyard below. Sometimes, I would brush my hands against the railings for the fun of it.
Not too soon after, I got bored with the handrails and looked to my left as I walked, passing glances at the dim classes along the way.
However, after passing two rooms, my walking slowed down as I caught up to the third one.
My gaze froze at the strange pair of two red dots, shrouded within the darkness at the farthest corner of the classroom.
I wouldn’t exactly say ‘dots’ – they were somewhat bigger than that. If I were to compare, they would be roughly around the size of tennis balls. Perhaps ‘orbs’ would be the better word – a pair of perfectly round orbs, just a few inches apart from each other and looming over me at almost thrice my height.
Another odd thing about those ‘orbs’ that I recalled was… although they were glowing red, that brightness wasn’t cast to the rest of the classroom. The place was still dark, but the orbs still gleamed on, as if their radiance were theirs alone.
I was enthralled by the sight, feeling more curious than afraid. It was as if their light was luring me in, watching me…
Like a pair of eyes.
As much as I was curious to investigate what I was looking at, my young and oblivious brain prioritized getting to the washroom. So, in the end, I walked past the room and resumed my intended, more urgent, task.
On my way back to meet up with my fellow students, I did check to see if the strange ‘orbs’ were still there. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I never saw it again.
The incident never bothered me at first, but it started digging into my mind as I grew older. On top of that, I had a similar but separate encounter during my fourth year in the same school; but let’s leave that tale for another time.
As for the red ‘orbs’, I assumed that they were probably some glares cast from a traffic light outside the school. And with that, I closed that part of my childhood as a series of circumstances masquerading as a scary moment.
Well… at least until I found out a revelation much, much later.
I often visited the place during the start of my high school years. By that time, my old school was nothing more than an abandoned building set to be demolished and relocated, with a huge padlock at the entrance gate warding any potential explorers from entering.
Although I was unable to enter the premises, I was still able to explore the block. It was during one of those explorations that I realized that my earlier assumption may have been misguided.
There were no traffic lights on the premises.
After asking some friends for clarification on the matter, they explained to me that there never had been any traffic lights installed there in the first place; although the government was planning to add a couple of them, plus several solar-powered streetlamps after the school was demolished.
The memory I locked up reopened, flooding my once-logical conclusion with doubts.
One of those doubts was the question of whether whatever I saw that night was physically present inside that classroom.
If that was indeed the case, I could only imagine how that may have ended, had I followed my curiosity and stepped inside.
