Japan's Haunted Round Schoolhouse: The Ghosts of Numahigashi Elementary

Of the dozens of haunted sites in Japan, a land that by no means has a shortage of ghostly legend, there is no more tragic history than that of the Round Schoolhouse—Numahigashi Elementary School. It's not a tale of a sudden massacre or an ancient evil curse, but a slow-motion, strangling tragedy born of war, a tale that has soaked into the very concrete of its symbolic round walls.

Built in the Hiroshima Prefecture town of Saka in 1935, Numahigashi was a wonder of design at the time. Its three-story domed building with a vast, uncovered atrium space in the middle was intended to be both modern and cost-efficient. The classrooms were set along the edge, all accessed by one long, curving ramp that led up to the top floor. This design, however, would be the setting for a horror. During the final years of World War II, the plant was occupied by the Imperial Japanese Army and converted to a plant producing munitions. Young girls and teenagers along with the younger students were conscripted to work in the plant producing parts for the war effort.

The catastrophe happened on May 1st, 1945. An American air attack ravaged the plant. A direct bomb hit caused a holocaust of explosion and fire. The school's original, design-oriented innovation became a death trap. The lone spiraling ramp created a vortex of fire and smoke, and the central atrium served as a chimney, reheating the entire structure. Frightened workers, including the young students, were trapped in a ring of fire with no way out. The official death toll remains contested, but hundreds are estimated to have perished in the fire.

After the war, the school was refurbished and returned to its former purpose, but the ghost of the past remained. Years later, teachers and students alike complained of inexplicable events. The most common one was the sound of phantom footsteps racing down the ramp, typically reported as the frantic, slapping sounds of geta sandals, as though kids were still trying to run away from the fire. Late-working teachers would hear the distinct, cheerful sounds of children's voices in empty corridors, which would abruptly be cut off when investigated.

The central atrium, ground zero for the fire, was also a hot spot of specific activity. People would attest to abrupt, intense cold spots and the overpowering, inexplicable scent of smoke and burning wood. Ghostly apparitions were prevalent as well. A small girl in a worn-out school uniform, soot smeared on her face, was often seen hanging around the top floors, only to vanish when one attempted to approach her. Another common sighting was that of a female, whose face was believed to be that of either a teacher or a caretaker, frantically trying to usher imaginary children to shelter, her face eternally furrowed in a look of terror.

The scariest and most terrifying piece of "evidence" was the ongoing rumors of handprints. On the metallic railings on the ramps, especially after a downpour or humid weather, there were small, grayish stains in the form of handprints. Nothing could remove them altogether; they reappeared later, as ghost marks from the past, as if the burnt children were attempting to make their way out.

Numahigashi Elementary ultimately closed its doors for good in 2000, the student body having dwindled. It stood as a quiet, decaying memorial for years, a target for urban explorers and ghost hunters both, who confirmed the eerie sounds and heavy atmosphere. Although the building itself was ultimately demolished, the site it sat on is still regarded by locals with a thick sense of awe. The Round Schoolhouse still remains Japan's most powerful ghost tale, not by a vengeful spirit, but by the hauntingly sad echo of dozens of youthful lives, agonizingly lost, eternally racing in circles within the walls' memory.