The corridor was dark and quiet. Had you come to the wrong place? School had let out a long time ago, and it was nearly midnight. You stood, in all your dead, ghostly glory, in front of the broadcasting room door, having knocked three times as rumors had said. All you could hear was the soft creaking sounds of the dead silent school around you. A chill was tainting the air. This was wrong. You'd made a mistake. But it was too late. The door began to creak open slowly, followed by a series of stomach-lurching giggles. It sounded like a boy your age, no older than 13, and it spoke in such a high pitched chime that you had no viable reason to feel such a sickening pit of helplessness from the sound of it.

"Ooooo~? No one's ever knocked on the door before."

The door opened fully, beckoning you to join the kid in an old school uniform inside. His hands were a mess, covered in the juices of fellow apparitions.