Writers 
Chapter Three: The Locked Room
The final bell rang.
Students immediately began packing their books and talking excitedly about going home. Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone rushed toward the door.
Amara remained in her seat.
Her eyes were fixed on the small piece of paper lying inside her notebook.
If you want the truth, come after the last bell.
She read the words again.
Victoria had warned her about the old library.
But who had written the second message?
Was it Victoria?
Or someone else?
Amara placed the paper carefully inside her notebook and packed her bag.
She waited until most of the students had left before standing up.
Ada walked past her desk.
“Are you coming?”
Amara hesitated.
“I have something to do first.”
Ada frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Amara watched Ada leave.
Then she stepped into the quiet hallway.
The school felt completely different without the noise of hundreds of students.
She followed the directions she had heard from Victoria earlier.
Past the science laboratories.
Past the administration block.
Then down a narrow hallway she had never noticed before.
At the end stood an old wooden door.
There was a faded sign above it.
LIBRARY
Amara's heart began beating faster.
She reached for the handle.
It didn't move.
Locked.
She looked around.
There was no one nearby.
“Of course,” she whispered.
She examined the door carefully.
A small brass plate was attached to it. Beneath the plate were two numbers.
27.
Amara stepped back.
Locker 27.
The number was connected to the library.
She suddenly remembered the note.
I know why you're here.
Maybe the person who wrote it wanted her to find this place.
Amara looked at the lock again.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned quickly.
Nobody was there.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Amara took a few steps away from the door.
Then she heard a soft sound from inside the library.
A knock.
She froze.
Someone was inside.
She moved closer.
“Hello?”
Another knock came from the other side of the door.
Amara's hand moved toward the handle.
Then she stopped.
Her mother's warning returned to her mind.
Don't ask questions about the past.
But this wasn't just a question anymore.
Someone had brought her here.
Someone knew about her.
And someone appeared to be inside a locked room.
“Who is there?” Amara asked.
There was no answer.
She looked down and noticed something near the bottom of the door.
A small envelope had been pushed underneath it.
Amara quickly picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
AMARA
Her hands became cold.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Amara stared at it.
The photograph showed a group of students standing in front of Brightfield Academy many years ago.
She recognized the school building immediately, although it looked much older.
She studied the faces.
Then she stopped.
One of the girls looked strangely familiar.
Amara brought the photograph closer.
The girl had the same eyes as her mother.
“No…”
Amara shook her head.
It couldn't be.
Her mother had never attended Brightfield Academy.
At least, that was what she had always believed.
A sound came from behind her.
Amara turned.
Victoria stood at the end of the hallway.
“You found it,” Victoria said.
Amara held up the photograph.
“Is this my mother?”
Victoria didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward Amara.
“You weren't supposed to find that yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked at the locked library door.
“Your mother told you not to ask about the past, didn't she?”
Amara nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she knows what happened here.”
“What happened?”
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Years ago, something happened at Brightfield Academy. After that, several records disappeared.”
“What records?”
“Student records. Photographs. Names.”
Amara looked down at the photograph again.
“And my mother?”
Victoria stared at her.
“She was one of the students here.”
Amara felt as if the hallway had suddenly become much smaller.
“My mother went to this school?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“I don't know.”
Amara looked at the locked door.
“What's inside?”
Victoria shook her head.
“I've never been inside.”
“Then how do you know so much?”
Victoria was silent.
Before Amara could ask another question, a noise came from the library.
This time, it wasn't a knock.
It sounded like something had fallen.
Both girls turned toward the door.
Victoria's face became serious.
“We need to leave.”
“But—”
“Now, Amara.”
Victoria grabbed her backpack and pulled her gently away from the door.Chapter Three: The Locked Room
The final bell rang.
Students immediately began packing their books and talking excitedly about going home. Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone rushed toward the door.
Amara remained in her seat.
Her eyes were fixed on the small piece of paper lying inside her notebook.
If you want the truth, come after the last bell.
She read the words again.
Victoria had warned her about the old library.
But who had written the second message?
Was it Victoria?
Or someone else?
Amara placed the paper carefully inside her notebook and packed her bag.
She waited until most of the students had left before standing up.
Ada walked past her desk.
“Are you coming?”
Amara hesitated.
“I have something to do first.”
Ada frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Amara watched Ada leave.
Then she stepped into the quiet hallway.
The school felt completely different without the noise of hundreds of students.
She followed the directions she had heard from Victoria earlier.
Past the science laboratories.
Past the administration block.
Then down a narrow hallway she had never noticed before.
At the end stood an old wooden door.
There was a faded sign above it.
LIBRARY
Amara's heart began beating faster.
She reached for the handle.
It didn't move.
Locked.
She looked around.
There was no one nearby.
“Of course,” she whispered.
She examined the door carefully.
A small brass plate was attached to it. Beneath the plate were two numbers.
27.
Amara stepped back.
Locker 27.
The number was connected to the library.
She suddenly remembered the note.
I know why you're here.
Maybe the person who wrote it wanted her to find this place.
Amara looked at the lock again.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned quickly.
Nobody was there.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Amara took a few steps away from the door.
Then she heard a soft sound from inside the library.
A knock.
She froze.
Someone was inside.
She moved closer.
“Hello?”
Another knock came from the other side of the door.
Amara's hand moved toward the handle.
Then she stopped.
Her mother's warning returned to her mind.
Don't ask questions about the past.
But this wasn't just a question anymore.
Someone had brought her here.
Someone knew about her.
And someone appeared to be inside a locked room.
“Who is there?” Amara asked.
There was no answer.
She looked down and noticed something near the bottom of the door.
A small envelope had been pushed underneath it.
Amara quickly picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
AMARA
Her hands became cold.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Amara stared at it.
The photograph showed a group of students standing in front of Brightfield Academy many years ago.
She recognized the school building immediately, although it looked much older.
She studied the faces.
Then she stopped.
One of the girls looked strangely familiar.
Amara brought the photograph closer.
The girl had the same eyes as her mother.
“No…”
Amara shook her head.
It couldn't be.
Her mother had never attended Brightfield Academy.
At least, that was what she had always believed.
A sound came from behind her.
Amara turned.
Victoria stood at the end of the hallway.
“You found it,” Victoria said.
Amara held up the photograph.
“Is this my mother?”
Victoria didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward Amara.
“You weren't supposed to find that yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked at the locked library door.
“Your mother told you not to ask about the past, didn't she?”
Amara nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she knows what happened here.”
“What happened?”
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Years ago, something happened at Brightfield Academy. After that, several records disappeared.”
“What records?”
“Student records. Photographs. Names.”
Amara looked down at the photograph again.
“And my mother?”
Victoria stared at her.
“She was one of the students here.”
Amara felt as if the hallway had suddenly become much smaller.
“My mother went to this school?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“I don't know.”
Amara looked at the locked door.
“What's inside?”
Victoria shook her head.
“I've never been inside.”
“Then how do you know so much?”
Victoria was silent.
Before Amara could ask another question, a noise came from the library.
This time, it wasn't a knock.
It sounded like something had fallen.
Both girls turned toward the door.
Victoria's face became serious.
“We need to leave.”
“But—”
“Now, Amara.”
Victoria grabbed her backpack and pulled her gently away from the door.Chapter Three: The Locked Room
The final bell rang.
Students immediately began packing their books and talking excitedly about going home. Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone rushed toward the door.
Amara remained in her seat.
Her eyes were fixed on the small piece of paper lying inside her notebook.
If you want the truth, come after the last bell.
She read the words again.
Victoria had warned her about the old library.
But who had written the second message?
Was it Victoria?
Or someone else?
Amara placed the paper carefully inside her notebook and packed her bag.
She waited until most of the students had left before standing up.
Ada walked past her desk.
“Are you coming?”
Amara hesitated.
“I have something to do first.”
Ada frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Amara watched Ada leave.
Then she stepped into the quiet hallway.
The school felt completely different without the noise of hundreds of students.
She followed the directions she had heard from Victoria earlier.
Past the science laboratories.
Past the administration block.
Then down a narrow hallway she had never noticed before.
At the end stood an old wooden door.
There was a faded sign above it.
LIBRARY
Amara's heart began beating faster.
She reached for the handle.
It didn't move.
Locked.
She looked around.
There was no one nearby.
“Of course,” she whispered.
She examined the door carefully.
A small brass plate was attached to it. Beneath the plate were two numbers.
27.
Amara stepped back.
Locker 27.
The number was connected to the library.
She suddenly remembered the note.
I know why you're here.
Maybe the person who wrote it wanted her to find this place.
Amara looked at the lock again.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned quickly.
Nobody was there.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Amara took a few steps away from the door.
Then she heard a soft sound from inside the library.
A knock.
She froze.
Someone was inside.
She moved closer.
“Hello?”
Another knock came from the other side of the door.
Amara's hand moved toward the handle.
Then she stopped.
Her mother's warning returned to her mind.
Don't ask questions about the past.
But this wasn't just a question anymore.
Someone had brought her here.
Someone knew about her.
And someone appeared to be inside a locked room.
“Who is there?” Amara asked.
There was no answer.
She looked down and noticed something near the bottom of the door.
A small envelope had been pushed underneath it.
Amara quickly picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
AMARA
Her hands became cold.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Amara stared at it.
The photograph showed a group of students standing in front of Brightfield Academy many years ago.
She recognized the school building immediately, although it looked much older.
She studied the faces.
Then she stopped.
One of the girls looked strangely familiar.
Amara brought the photograph closer.
The girl had the same eyes as her mother.
“No…”
Amara shook her head.
It couldn't be.
Her mother had never attended Brightfield Academy.
At least, that was what she had always believed.
A sound came from behind her.
Amara turned.
Victoria stood at the end of the hallway.
“You found it,” Victoria said.
Amara held up the photograph.
“Is this my mother?”
Victoria didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward Amara.
“You weren't supposed to find that yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked at the locked library door.
“Your mother told you not to ask about the past, didn't she?”
Amara nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she knows what happened here.”
“What happened?”
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Years ago, something happened at Brightfield Academy. After that, several records disappeared.”
“What records?”
“Student records. Photographs. Names.”
Amara looked down at the photograph again.
“And my mother?”
Victoria stared at her.
“She was one of the students here.”
Amara felt as if the hallway had suddenly become much smaller.
“My mother went to this school?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“I don't know.”
Amara looked at the locked door.
“What's inside?”
Victoria shook her head.
“I've never been inside.”
“Then how do you know so much?”
Victoria was silent.
Before Amara could ask another question, a noise came from the library.
This time, it wasn't a knock.
It sounded like something had fallen.
Both girls turned toward the door.
Victoria's face became serious.
“We need to leave.”
“But—”
“Now, Amara.”
Victoria grabbed her backpack and pulled her gently away from the door.Chapter Three: The Locked Room
The final bell rang.
Students immediately began packing their books and talking excitedly about going home. Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone rushed toward the door.
Amara remained in her seat.
Her eyes were fixed on the small piece of paper lying inside her notebook.
If you want the truth, come after the last bell.
She read the words again.
Victoria had warned her about the old library.
But who had written the second message?
Was it Victoria?
Or someone else?
Amara placed the paper carefully inside her notebook and packed her bag.
She waited until most of the students had left before standing up.
Ada walked past her desk.
“Are you coming?”
Amara hesitated.
“I have something to do first.”
Ada frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Amara watched Ada leave.
Then she stepped into the quiet hallway.
The school felt completely different without the noise of hundreds of students.
She followed the directions she had heard from Victoria earlier.
Past the science laboratories.
Past the administration block.
Then down a narrow hallway she had never noticed before.
At the end stood an old wooden door.
There was a faded sign above it.
LIBRARY
Amara's heart began beating faster.
She reached for the handle.
It didn't move.
Locked.
She looked around.
There was no one nearby.
“Of course,” she whispered.
She examined the door carefully.
A small brass plate was attached to it. Beneath the plate were two numbers.
27.
Amara stepped back.
Locker 27.
The number was connected to the library.
She suddenly remembered the note.
I know why you're here.
Maybe the person who wrote it wanted her to find this place.
Amara looked at the lock again.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned quickly.
Nobody was there.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Amara took a few steps away from the door.
Then she heard a soft sound from inside the library.
A knock.
She froze.
Someone was inside.
She moved closer.
“Hello?”
Another knock came from the other side of the door.
Amara's hand moved toward the handle.
Then she stopped.
Her mother's warning returned to her mind.
Don't ask questions about the past.
But this wasn't just a question anymore.
Someone had brought her here.
Someone knew about her.
And someone appeared to be inside a locked room.
“Who is there?” Amara asked.
There was no answer.
She looked down and noticed something near the bottom of the door.
A small envelope had been pushed underneath it.
Amara quickly picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
AMARA
Her hands became cold.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was an old photograph.
Amara stared at it.
The photograph showed a group of students standing in front of Brightfield Academy many years ago.
She recognized the school building immediately, although it looked much older.
She studied the faces.
Then she stopped.
One of the girls looked strangely familiar.
Amara brought the photograph closer.
The girl had the same eyes as her mother.
“No…”
Amara shook her head.
It couldn't be.
Her mother had never attended Brightfield Academy.
At least, that was what she had always believed.
A sound came from behind her.
Amara turned.
Victoria stood at the end of the hallway.
“You found it,” Victoria said.
Amara held up the photograph.
“Is this my mother?”
Victoria didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward Amara.
“You weren't supposed to find that yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked at the locked library door.
“Your mother told you not to ask about the past, didn't she?”
Amara nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she knows what happened here.”
“What happened?”
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Years ago, something happened at Brightfield Academy. After that, several records disappeared.”
“What records?”
“Student records. Photographs. Names.”
Amara looked down at the photograph again.
“And my mother?”
Victoria stared at her.
“She was one of the students here.”
Amara felt as if the hallway had suddenly become much smaller.
“My mother went to this school?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“I don't know.”
Amara looked at the locked door.
“What's inside?”
Victoria shook her head.
“I've never been inside.”
“Then how do you know so much?”
Victoria was silent.
Before Amara could ask another question, a noise came from the library.
This time, it wasn't a knock.
It sounded like something had fallen.
Both girls turned toward the door.
Victoria's face became serious.
“We need to leave.”
“But—”
“Now, Amara.”
Victoria grabbed her backpack and pulled her gently away from the door.
They hurried down the hallway.
Amara looked back one last time.
The old library door was still locked.
But beneath it, another envelope slowly appeared.
Someone was pushing it from the inside.
And written across it was one sentence:
Your mother left something here.
They hurried down the hallway.
Amara looked back one last time.
The old library door was still locked.
But beneath it, another envelope slowly appeared.
Someone was pushing it from the inside.
And written across it was one sentence:
Your mother left something here.
They hurried down the hallway.
Amara looked back one last time.
The old library door was still locked.
But beneath it, another envelope slowly appeared.
Someone was pushing it from the inside.
And written across it was one sentence:
Your mother left something here.
They hurried down the hallway.
Amara looked back one last time.
The old library door was still locked.
But beneath it, another envelope slowly appeared.
Someone was pushing it from the inside.
And written across it was one sentence:
Your mother left something here.
Chapter four will be post tommorrow, follow my profile so you don't miss it and comment next if you want it to be post.
