Who You Gonna Call? GHOSTBUSTERS!

---

Written By: Anushree Punna and Sree Pratti

Edited by Gabi De Vega

Wolfpak Press sent JHS staff and students an anonymous survey to share any paranormal encounters or spine-chilling experiences! Here are three levels of scary stories shared to us from two of our very own students and one teacher. Can you make it through all the levels...? Good luck.

*Proceed at your own caution. Reader discretion is advised.

Level 1: Maybe Disturbing, Maybe Dumb

In my closet, there is a whole section of a shelf dedicated to lotions, creams, and body sprays. They are all from various brands and in various colors, some of them boasting a vibrant electric blue while others contrasted with lilac or jasmine-lavender. On the whole, this area is as festive as a fresh field of tulips in April. But my opinion about this area would change soon enough. Amongst these bottles, there is one small salmon-pink lotion bottle that I had opened recently. When I opened its lid, there was a circular plastic covering to prevent the cream from spilling onto the lid. Because I did not need this cover, I put it off to

the side and never touched it again. Little did I know that it would come back to me. Since these creams are located in my personal closet, no one comes into this

area. Ever. A few weeks later, after consistent daily use of the lotion, I went back to the closet and opened the black lid, just like normal. But I was shocked to see that the plastic cover was set perfectly onto where it was when I had first opened it. It looked as if it came right out of a package, perfectly ready to open! I was totally unnerved. Panicked yet logical thoughts circled my mind. No one even comes here anymore! Maybe it was my mom. Okay, maybe she came to organize some things. But even if she did, wouldn’t she be more attentive to my clothes? Why would she need to meticulously set the old disposable plastic cover onto a tiny bottle that was camouflaged into the crowded arrangement? Is this a sign of some sort? My eyes suddenly darted over to the mirror on the other side of the shelf. That’s when it hit me.

Level 2: Eerie

During the summer of 2010, I traveled to the Dominican Republic. I was a nursing major, so I desperately needed a break from my hectic schedule. On the second day of my vacation, my friends and I strolled through a bustling marketplace. The fresh vegetables and fruits on each booth were piled up like a kindergartner piles up his building blocks. After a few minutes, I came to an abrupt stop. I saw that one of the stalls was serving a popular dish: the Dominican Flag. I looked over at my friends, who were continuing on their lazy stroll. Maybe I will just eat a little bit and then catch up with them later. So I abandoned them and rushed over to the stall. Beside me, there was a man with an almond-colored t-shirt and worn-out jeans. He was laughing at something with the stall owner and seemed pretty approachable, so I began a casual conversation with him. Everything went fine until we started talking about our jobs. He told me that he worked at a restaurant nearby, and I told him that I was a nursing major. At that moment, he looked me straight in the eye with his piercing bead-like glance, and said, “You look like you might be a teacher someday.” I did not know what to say, so I laughed it off. 11 years later, here I am, teaching at Jackson High School.

Level 3: Goose-bumping

This incident happened at Woodside Elementary School, when I was either in fourth or fifth grade. My friend, who we will call Sarah for now, and I took up the job of opening the book fair while the parents were conferencing with teachers. It was in the gym, towards the rear of the building. Since this was an after-school event, only the areas that contained parents and students, like the cafeteria and the hallways at the beginning of the school, were illuminated; the rest of the hallways were a midnight black. Our mothers began chatting and following us to the gym, but being the immature and hasty children that we were, Sarah and I giggled and ran so we could be at the gym first. When we finally lost sight of them, we stopped running and the blackness began to seem ominous. Sarah and I attempted to make nonchalant conversation as we cautiously made our way down the frightening halls. As we turned each corner, I could feel a mysterious swoosh of chilled air hitting my neck, making my hairs stand. It felt like we were walking straight into a cave. Maybe we should run back, I thought. About two minutes later, we reached the double-doors of the gym, but they were locked. Above us, there was a single LED light that was responsible for illuminating the entire hallway, but it flickered at times. Anyway, we ran back to tell our mothers about the doors, and they decided to walk back to find the keys for us, instructing us to wait back there. Sarah and I continued to gossip as we made our way back; we tried to sound more enthusiastic to replace the fear that there was no one behind us to protect us anymore. But thankfully, more students

joined our waiting party in the next few minutes. The goosebumps on my skin began fading with this new company, and I got used to the creepy hallway. This lively environment was put to a sudden stop with a resounding drum-like sound from the gym. OOMPH! One of the mats had fallen down. I remember thinking, it is just a gym mat. Stop being such a scaredy cat. We moved closer to the glass rectangles in the middle of the doors to get a better look of the gym, and sure enough, we saw a pale white figure casually floating past the window on the left-side of the gym. She was wearing a long white dress with ruffles, and her hair was short and curly, put up in a 1950s hairstyle. We were flabbergasted. It felt like an eternity until our parents showed up with the keys. But when they did, we hesitantly walked inside the gym, turned on the lights, and saw no one. Who was she? And what connection could she have had with our school?

Did you make it through all of the levels? Let us know!