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My school

Rahul was a young and enthusiastic teacher, but he had stopped teaching at the school a few years ago. He had many good memories there, but life took him on a different path. He moved abroad.

It was now autumn, and the small town was quiet and cold. Most of the leaves had fallen from the trees, and the air felt strangely calm. After several years, Rahul was returning to his country.

One evening, he decided to visit his old school. The sun was setting, and the school was closed. He decided to walk around the building and the playground. For him, the school was more than just a building—it was a place where he had taught and shared precious moments with his students and colleagues.

As Rahul reached the entrance, he noticed the gate was slightly open. This was unusual, as the gate was always locked after opening hours. He thought perhaps the guard forgot to lock it, so out of curiosity, he walked inside.

The school grounds were completely silent, except for the crunching sound of dry leaves under his feet. The building looked large in front of him, with dark and empty windows. He looked around, observing everything with curiosity.

While wandering the schoolyard, a familiar voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Mr. Rahul,” the voice called softly.

Rahul turned around and saw the school’s principal, Mrs. Verma. She looked exactly as he remembered her—kind eyes and a smiling face.

“Mrs. Verma?” Rahul whispered.

The principal smiled gently. “Yes, Rahul. I thought you had forgotten about us.”

Rahul replied happily, “Mrs. Verma, how are you? I’m so glad to see you again. I thought I would only see the buildings.”

“Come,” Mrs. Verma said, pointing toward the main building. “Let me show you the school.”

Mrs. Verma was more than just a principal to him; she was a guide. They slowly walked and talked. Many things had changed over the years—there were more buildings, homes nearby, and the school even had its own bus to pick up students. When Rahul worked there, the school was small, with about 200 students. Now, it was much larger.

Mrs. Verma explained that a few years ago, two nearby village schools had closed, and their students joined this school. Now, there were around 600 students and many new classrooms.

When they entered the principal’s office, Rahul noticed a photo of himself with other teachers still hanging on the wall. This brought back many old memories. Mrs. Verma explained that a new principal had taken over since she had become too old to manage everything. However, everyone still respected her as she was the founder of the school. She had started it herself after retiring from her government job.

As they passed by some empty classrooms, Rahul noticed strange shadows moving in the corners. It seemed like students were sitting at their desks, whispering to each other and writing notes. A chill ran through him when he realized these were not living students but ghostly images of children from years ago. He thought it might just be his imagination.

“Do you see them, Rahul?” Mrs. Verma asked, her voice calm but a little sad. “These are the memories of students who loved this place deeply, but…”

“What happened to them, Mrs. Verma?” Rahul asked eagerly.

“Last year, our bus met with an accident, and some of the students couldn’t survive,” she said softly.

“What?!” Rahul gasped, struggling to breathe as he stared into the classrooms. He saw familiar faces—students he had once taught—laughing and talking as if time had stopped for them. nobody noticed him; they were lost in their own world.

“Do you remember them, Rahul?” Mrs. Verma asked, her voice heavy with emotion. “These were the students who admired you so much. You used to teach them.”

Rahul nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “Yes… I remember them.”

They continued walking, and Rahul felt as though he was floating in a dream. The school seemed alive with memories—ghostly figures of students and teachers, moments from the past, and so much more.

Finally, they reached the main gate again. Rahul thanked Mrs. Verma for her time and left the school with a mix of sadness and fond memories.

A few days later, Rahul decided to visit the school again, this time during the day, when it would be open and filled with students.

When he arrived, he went to the principal’s office. He remembered Mrs. Verma mentioning a new principal, Mr. Mann. Rahul introduced himself and spoke with him for a while before asking, “How is Mrs. Verma? I’d love to say hello to her.”

Mr. Mann lowered his head and said sadly, “You don’t know?”

Rahul replied eagerly, “I met her last week. She seemed just as she always was.”

“No, Rahul,” Mr. Mann said gently. “You must have met someone else. Mrs. Verma passed away last year. We all loved her deeply.”

“What?!” Rahul couldn’t believe it. He realized that last week, he had been walking through the school with Mrs. Verma’s ghost.

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