The Empty Doorway

I transferred to a historic, strict academy a month ago. The strangest part of my day is the afternoon study hall. No teacher ever comes to supervise, yet the room is always dead silent. Nobody whispers. Nobody passes notes. Even the rustle of turning pages is deliberately muffled. Everyone just leans closely over their desks. Once, I tried to whisper a question to my desk-mate, Lily. Instantly, Lily went pale and frantically shook her head, and the air in the room grew completely tense. Today, the same eerie silence hung in the classroom until the heavy front door suddenly creaked open. In perfect unison, every single student in the room slammed their faces down toward their desks, shoulders trembling in terror. I stared at the doorway, my blood running cold. There was absolutely no one there.