02/07/2025
“She Still Walks – The Haunting at Kwikila”
Kwikila Secondary School in the heart of Rigo District, Central Province, is more than just one of the oldest academic institutions in the area. To outsiders, it stands proud as a beacon of excellence—a place that has shaped generations of Central Province's finest minds.
But to those who have lived within its fences...
Kwikila carries a darkness.
A whisper.
A curse.
The story has been passed down for years. A long-abandoned building sits right in the middle of the girls' dormitory block, surrounded by a locked fence. It used to be a dorm itself, decades ago—until the incident.
They say a young girl once stayed behind in that very building on a Friday night when all the other students went off to attend the school’s weekly Social Night. She wanted to study, committed to her goals.
But evil found her.
It was sometime after 9 p.m., when music was still playing across the yards, that some men—outsiders—broke through the back fence. No one knows exactly how they got in, but when they found her alone in that dormitory, their intentions turned monstrous.
What happened to her was unspeakable.
They say she screamed once.
And then never again.
She was never seen alive after that.
The next morning, her friends found her body—what was left of it—stuffed inside a suitcase. Brutally mutilated. Torn apart. The shock nearly shut the school down. In fear and shame, the administration sealed off the building and locked the doors to that dormitory permanently. No one was allowed to enter.
But her spirit never left. Instead she wandered inside the building.
Twelve years later, Allan , a final-year student preparing for his last set of exams, wasn’t interested in dancing or socializing. The Social Night had ended by 9 p.m. Students were trickling back to their dorms, tired and laughing.
But Allan had something else in mind.
At 9:30 p.m., he walked across the quiet campus to the mess hall—alone. With his books under his arm and determination in his step, he flicked on the overhead lights and sat at a corner table, near the back window. He read. He underlined. He memorized.
Time slipped by.
At midnight—sharp—he stood up, stretched, and packed his books. The mess hall was silent, the lights buzzing softly overhead. As he stepped outside, a cool wind brushed past him.
And that’s when Allan looked up.
Directly across the road, about 30 yards away, was the fenced-off girls’ dormitory area. And right in the center…
That old, haunted dorm.
At first, he only glanced. The building was dark and lifeless—just as always.
But then...
A movement.
A figure.
Someone—or something—stood in the doorway. A girl.
She was dressed in a white uniform, but it shimmered unnaturally in the moonlight, as if glowing. Her hair was black and stringy, matted to the side of her face. Her arms hung limply by her sides.
Allan stared, his breath caught in his chest.
She was smiling.
Not the smile of a friend.
Not the smile of the living.
This smile was crooked… forced… like her face had forgotten how to be human.
She tilted her head slowly, unnaturally, until it leaned too far to the side, her neck cracking in the silence of the night.
Then, without breaking eye contact…
She raised one hand and waved.
So slowly.
So eerily slow.
Her fingers barely moved, and her grin stretched wider with every second.
Allan’s body locked up with fear.
“No... no... no… kkk...” he whispered.
He rubbed his eyes, hoping she’d vanish.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stepped forward.
Not down the steps.
Not onto the path.
She floated, just an inch above the ground. Her bare feet never touched the dirt.
That was it.
Allan dropped his books. The sound of them slamming onto the cement echoed like a gunshot.
He ran.
He sprinted past the mess hall, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out the wind. Past the classrooms. Past the grade 12 classroom block. His slippers slapped against the concrete as he darted down the hill toward the boys' dormitory.
He burst through the door of Dorm 9, wide-eyed, soaked in sweat.
The boys screamed, startled by his sudden arrival. One fell off his bed. Another threw a blanket over his head. Even one threw a shoe towards him ducking.
“Allan, what the hell happened?” someone yelled.
“I SAW HER!” he gasped. “The girl... the one from the abandoned dorm!”
No one laughed. No one questioned.
They locked the door, blocked it with chairs, and sat in silence.
Not one boy slept that night.
The next morning, Allan returned to the mess hall just after sunrise to collect his books.
They were still there, undisturbed.
Except… something was different.
On the concrete beside them, leading back across the road...
Were bare footprints.
Wet. Small. Fresh.
But no water anywhere in sight.
And as he turned to leave, a sudden morning coldness washed over him. From the corner of the mess hall door, a faint whisper drifted on the wind…
“You should’ve stayed longer…”
