Forgotten Seat

Megha had just transferred to Greenwood High, an old, prestigious school known for its academic excellence—and its odd traditions. Among them was one strange practice that caught her attention right away: the forgotten seat. There was a desk in every classroom, untouched and unoccupied, as though it had been left behind for someone who was no longer there.

On her first day, Megha entered her classroom with the usual first-day nerves. She noticed a seat in the far corner of the room. It looked old, unlike the newer desks around it. The wood was scratched, and the chair was unevenly worn, as though someone had sat in it for years. No one paid any attention to it, and no one dared to sit there.

Intrigued, Megha asked her classmate, Priya, about it during break. Priya’s expression immediately changed, her casual demeanor turning serious. “Don’t ask about that seat. Just…don’t.”

Of course, that only made Megha more curious.

Later that day, after classes had ended, Megha decided to stay behind. The rest of the students had left, and the setting sun cast long shadows across the room, filling it with a dim orange glow. Alone in the classroom, Megha approached the forgotten seat. She could feel a cold draft, though the windows were all closed. Her hand hovered over the desk, as if an invisible force was warning her not to touch it, but her curiosity was too strong.

The moment she placed her hand on the desk, a low whisper echoed in her ears.

"Why did you come back?"

Megha jerked back, heart pounding. The room felt unnaturally still. She quickly gathered her things and hurried out, her footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.

That night, Megha couldn't sleep. The whisper haunted her thoughts. Who was asking that question, and who was it meant for? She tried to push it out of her mind, convincing herself it was just her imagination. But deep down, she knew something was wrong with that desk.

The next day at school, Megha found it hard to focus. Her eyes kept darting to the forgotten seat, half-expecting someone to appear there. During lunch, she approached Priya again.

“Priya, please. What’s the story behind that seat?”

Priya hesitated before speaking in a hushed tone. “The seat belonged to a girl named Aditi. She was in our class three years ago…until she disappeared. No one knows what happened to her. She just vanished one day after staying behind in class. Since then, that desk has been empty, and strange things have been happening. Some say they hear whispers. Others feel like someone’s watching them from that corner. The teachers won’t talk about it, but everyone knows something's wrong with that seat.”

Megha felt a chill run down her spine. She hadn’t heard about Aditi when she transferred, but it all made sense now—the whispers, the cold air. But what happened to her? And why did that voice sound like it was waiting for someone to return?

That afternoon, when the last bell rang, Megha stayed behind once more. This time, she was determined to get answers. As she approached the forgotten seat, she noticed something strange: a book lying open on the desk. She hadn’t seen it there before. The pages were yellowed and torn, filled with messy, frantic handwriting.

The words seemed to blur and shift as she tried to read them, but one phrase stood out clearly: "Don’t forget me."

A shiver ran down her back as she heard the whisper again, louder this time: "Why did you come back?"

The door to the classroom slammed shut with a loud bang, and Megha froze. She spun around, her heart racing, but there was no one there. Panic set in, and she tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The lights flickered, and in the dim glow, Megha saw a faint figure standing near the forgotten seat.

It was a girl. Her hair was long and tangled, her clothes tattered. Her face was pale, almost translucent. Megha’s breath caught in her throat as she realized she was looking at Aditi

“I didn’t want to disappear,” Aditi’s voice was soft, but filled with sorrow. “I just stayed behind…just like you. But then…they took me.”

“Who?” Megha stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

“They live in the shadows…between the walls. They take anyone who lingers too long in the wrong place. And once they take you, no one remembers you.” Aditi’s eyes were wide with fear, her ghostly hand pointing toward the door. “You need to leave. Now.”

Megha pulled at the door handle with all her strength. As it creaked open, she felt a cold, icy breeze sweep past her, followed by the feeling of unseen eyes watching her every move. She rushed out, not daring to look back.

For the next few days, Megha couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong. She avoided the forgotten seat, but it seemed to call to her, as if Aditi’s presence was still there, trapped in that desk. She asked around the school, hoping to find someone who remembered Aditi, but no one seemed to know her. Even Priya acted as if she’d never mentioned her before.

One evening, Megha returned to the classroom after everyone had left, this time not out of curiosity, but out of desperation. She didn’t want to believe that Aditi was truly gone, erased from memory like she never existed.

She approached the forgotten seat again, her heart heavy with fear and sorrow. The old, scratched desk was just as she remembered it, and the cold air returned as soon as she neared it. She placed her hand on the desk once more, bracing for the whispers.

But this time, there was only silence.

With trembling hands, Megha reached into her bag and pulled out a small notebook. She wrote down Aditi’s name, and next to it, the words "You will not be forgotten."

As she closed the notebook, she felt a shift in the air. The coldness faded, replaced by a sense of calm. She looked at the desk one last time and saw something that made her heart stop—a faint, barely visible smile etched into the wood, as if someone had left it as a final thank you.

Megha left the classroom that night, knowing that Aditi's story wasn’t entirely erased. She would remember, even if no one else could. But as she walked through the empty halls of Greenwood High, she couldn’t help but feel that the shadows were still watching, waiting for the next student who would linger too long.

And the forgotten seat remained, untouched.