Little Flower School was a small, isolated school nestled deep in the woods, surrounded by an eerie silence that sent chills down anyone's spine. The weather on that fateful day matched the school's atmosphere—a thick fog enveloped the area, obscuring visibility and casting an ominous shadow over the grounds.

January 1st, 2013. It was a day like any other at Little Flower School. The children, from kindergarten to 5th class, were happily engrossed in their studies, unaware of the darkness that lurked just beyond their innocent lives. The teachers, despite their best efforts to maintain a cheerful facade, felt an underlying unease that they couldn't shake.

As the morning hours passed, anticipation grew among the children. They eagerly awaited the arrival of their favorite part of the day—PT period, a time for play and laughter. Little did they know that this day would forever shatter their blissful innocence.

Finally, the clock struck the designated time, and the teacher, feigning excitement, gathered the children together. But as she glanced at her watch, her heart skipped a beat. The hands on her watch seemed to move erratically, as if time itself was warped within the confines of the school.

"Children, do you know what time it is?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

The children exchanged nervous glances, sensing that something was amiss. Despite their apprehension, they replied in unison, their voices faltering.

"Yes, teacher..."

A forced smile appeared on the teacher's face. "Oh, tell me then," she urged, trying to mask her growing fear.

"It's playing time! Yaaay!" the children shouted, their jubilant cheers echoing through the empty corridors.

With trepidation in her heart, the teacher led the children outside the classroom, making their way toward the lift. The school's sinister past had sealed off the stairs, leaving the lift as their only means of descending to the PT room situated in the basement. A feeling of impending doom hung in the air.

Suddenly, a child named Johnny approached the teacher, desperation in his voice. "Teacher, I need to go to the toilet," he pleaded.

Anxiety tightened its grip around the teacher's chest. "Go to the toilet, Johnny," she replied, trying to keep her composure.

"But someone is already inside," Johnny responded, his voice filled with urgency.

As panic set in, the teacher tried to reassure Johnny. "Just wait a little longer, Johnny. The lift will be here soon," she said, her words failing to conceal her own growing unease.

Two agonizing minutes crawled by, each passing second stretching into an eternity. The teacher's mind raced, questioning the delay. "Why is the lift taking longer than usual? If only we could use the stairs," she thought, her voice drowned out by her own apprehension.

Johnny's desperation reached its peak. He knew he couldn't hold his bladder any longer. "I'm sorry, teacher," he whispered under his breath.

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In a moment of desperation, Johnny made a fateful decision. He stealthily broke away from the group of students, ignoring the warning signs and venturing toward the forbidden stairs. The sense of dread that washed over him was palpable, but he couldn't endure the discomfort any longer.

Descending the stairs cautiously, Johnny's worst fear became a reality as his bladder betrayed him, soaking his pants and leaving a trail of wet footprints. Panic coursed through his veins as he muttered, "Oh no, what should I do?"

Suddenly, a bone-chilling gust of wind blew past his ear, carrying with it a haunting whisper that seemed to come from all directions. Johnny froze in terror, his eyes widening with fear.

"Huh? What was that?" he stammered, his voice barely audible.

As he took another step down the treacherous staircase, the pool of urine on the floor seemed to come alive. It slithered beneath his feet, taking on a life of its own. Before he could react, the liquid transformed into a grotesque, shadowy figure—an ominous black girl with a wicked smile, hanging by the neck from the ceiling. Her malevolence pierced Johnny's soul, freezing him in place.

In the blink of an eye, tragedy struck. Johnny slipped on the wet stairs, his world spinning in a dizzying whirlwind of terror. His scream filled the air as his body plummeted downward. The girl watched with sadistic delight as Johnny's head collided with the unforgiving steps, shattering bone and spraying blood in every direction. His tiny hands were crushed, his legs twisted beyond recognition, and his jaw fractured into a grotesque, unnatural angle. Writhing in agony, Johnny lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, his pleas for help echoing through the empty halls. But in this forsaken place, the silence remained unbroken—no one came to his aid.

As the lift finally arrived, the teacher and the children descended, oblivious to the horrifying fate that had befallen Johnny. Panic washed over the teacher when she realized Johnny's absence. Desperately questioning the children, she discovered that Johnny had been near the forbidden stairs. The teacher's heart sank, knowing all too well the haunted reputation of those dreadful steps. Hope mingled with dread as she prayed that Johnny had escaped unharmed.

Reaching the floor, they emerged from the lift, the heavy doors closing behind them with a resounding thud. It was then that a child's piercing scream tore through the eerie silence.

"Aaahhh!"

Fear gripped the teacher as she turned towards the source of the scream. Her heart sank to her stomach. Blood—dark, crimson blood—stained the floor, leading towards the stairs. A trail of horror awaited them, beckoning them to uncover the unspeakable tragedy that had unfolded.

Frantic and horrified, the teacher alerted the other staff members of the school. Together, they raced up the stairs, their footsteps echoing through the vacant halls. Following the blood-soaked path, they finally stumbled upon the lifeless body of seven-year-old Johnny, lying in a pool of his blood. Grief consumed them as they cradled his broken form, their futile attempts to save him ending in heartbreak.

The news spread like wildfire, engulfing the school in a tempest of outrage and sorrow. The angry parents of Johnny, fueled by their grief and fury, sought justice. They filed a lawsuit against the school, holding them responsible for their child's tragic demise. In the wake of the scandal, Little Flower School was forced to shut down indefinitely, becoming a mere memory of its once vibrant existence.

The once cheerful and welcoming building now stood as a haunting monument to the horrors that unfolded within its walls. A pall of darkness draped over the abandoned school, and whispers circulated among the locals. Some claimed to have seen the ghostly figure of a young boy, forever trapped in a loop of despair, while others swore they heard the anguished cries of children reverberating through the night.

No one dared enter the school grounds, for it had become a place of malevolence and restless spirits. Only the black girl with the wicked smile remained. her presence a constant reminder of the tragedy that unfolded on that fateful day. Her spectral form, forever hanging from the ceiling, serves as a warning to those who dare to venture near—the malevolence of Little Flower School lingers, waiting for its next victim to claim.