The first thing Alex noticed when he walked into Mrs. Holt’s history class was the faint smell of chalk dust in the air. It wasn’t unusual—it was an old building, and the chalkboards were covered in layers of notes, equations, and sketches from years of students who came before. But there was something about the way the dust hung in the air that made his skin crawl.

Mrs. Holt wasn’t at her desk. No one else was in the room yet, but the seats were already arranged in neat rows. The clock ticked too loudly, a constant reminder of the passing time.

He sat at the back of the class, unpacked his notebook, and absentmindedly glanced at the chalkboard. It was filled with the usual lesson notes: dates, names, and places. But as his eyes lingered on the chalk writing, he noticed something strange. A word, scrawled in large, uneven letters, appeared at the top of the board.

“HELP.”

Alex’s stomach twisted.

It was then that the door creaked open, and Mrs. Holt walked in, her usual stern expression set in place. She didn’t even glance at the board as she passed by. But Alex did. And now, the word wasn’t the only thing on the chalkboard.

More words had appeared—strange, jumbled sentences that made no sense. Some letters were backwards, others twisted into shapes that looked almost like drawings. As Alex watched, a shape started to form—a dark shadow on the board, one that didn’t belong. It seemed to move, as if the chalk were writing by itself.

“Alex, would you like to tell the class what you’ve been staring at?” Mrs. Holt’s voice broke through his trance, making him snap his head up in surprise.

“Uh… the chalkboard?” he said, trying to ignore the unease crawling up his spine.

Mrs. Holt’s eyes narrowed. “You should be paying attention to the lesson. Don’t let the board distract you.” She turned her back to write something on the board.

But Alex couldn’t look away.

The shadow in the corner of the chalkboard shifted, now clearly taking the form of a tall, wispy figure. Its features were hard to define, but the outline seemed to stretch and stretch, like it was growing out of the chalk itself.

“Help me,” the word appeared again, this time in the shape of a face, with hollow eyes staring back at him.

That night, Alex couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the shadowy figure from the board. It wasn’t like a normal dream—it was real. It was coming for him.

The next morning, Alex felt a strange compulsion to go to school early. He didn’t know why—he just knew he had to. When he entered the history classroom, the chalkboard was empty again. But it felt wrong, like the air was thick with something unseen. His eyes were drawn to the board, and before he could stop himself, his fingers traced the edge of the chalk tray.

The figure returned—this time more solid than ever, looming over the board in full form.

“Who are you?” Alex whispered, as the shadowy figure moved, its edges still made of chalk.

“You’re the one who can stop me,” the figure said, its voice crackling like chalk on the board. “The board is my prison. The only way to banish me is to erase my name.”

Alex’s heart raced. He hadn’t noticed it before, but a name had appeared on the board beneath the shadow. A name he recognized.

“Margaret White.”

The name clicked. He remembered reading about her in the history textbook—a woman who had been accused of witchcraft in the 1600s. The book had mentioned her trial, but it didn’t say much else.

He grabbed the piece of chalk from the tray and scratched through the name. As soon as he did, the shadow screamed, its form disintegrating into a whirlwind of chalk dust.

The classroom grew silent. The figure was gone, leaving only a faint, lingering smell of chalk.

Mrs. Holt walked in, not even noticing the disruption.

Alex sat down, his hands still trembling. He looked up at the board, where the name had once been. It was gone, replaced by the regular lesson plan.

It was over. But Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… just maybe, high school was more magical than it seemed.