The Secret of Room 13

In the heart of Westfield School, the whispers of an unusual friendship echoed through the corridors. Ollie, with a head of dense curls and bright eyes, was well-known for his cheerful nature. His friend, Tom, was the quiet type—short, blond, with a mysterious air that shrouded him in intrigue.

Room 13 was their sanctuary from the bustling school, a place where they could exchange stories and secrets. Most of the time, the room was empty, save for the dusty shelves and faded posters from past decades. The creaky floorboards added an eerie backdrop to their meetings.

“Did you hear about the old legend?” Ollie asked, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room.

Tom nodded, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “The vampire of Westfield, right? They say he still haunts these halls.”

Ollie chuckled, though a shiver crept down his spine. “It's just a story to scare us!” he insisted, trying to shake off the creeping unease.

As the days passed, Ollie noticed the subtle changes in Tom. His skin grew paler, his eyes sharper. The other students never seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own world. But Ollie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

One chilly afternoon, as the sky darkened prematurely, Ollie found himself alone in Room 13. He was waiting for Tom, who had promised to share a secret. The room felt colder than usual, the shadows lengthening ominously.

“Ollie,” Tom's voice broke the silence, a whisper that seemed to crawl along the walls.

Ollie turned, his heart pounding. Tom stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. The usual warmth in his eyes was replaced by something ancient and hungry.

“There's something I need to show you,” Tom said, stepping closer. His voice was different, deeper, like a distant echo.

Ollie swallowed hard, the air thick with tension. “What is it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Tom smiled—a slow, unsettling curve of his lips. “The truth about the vampire of Westfield.”

The room seemed to close in around Ollie as Tom approached. The lights flickered, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the walls. Ollie’s instincts screamed at him to run, but his feet seemed glued to the floor.

In that moment, Tom’s secret revealed itself in a terrifying flash of fangs, sharp and glistening. Time seemed to slow as Tom lunged forward, the predator within him unleashed.

A scream caught in Ollie’s throat, and with a swift, fluid motion, Tom’s true nature emerged. The legend of Westfield was no mere tale—it lived, breathed, and fed in Room 13.

The school bell rang, its sound distant and hollow. The corridors outside buzzed with life, unaware of the horror that had unfolded within the confines of Room 13.

When the room finally fell silent, only a chilling whisper remained, echoing through the empty halls: “The vampire of Westfield lives on.”