A few years ago, I worked as a middle-school English teacher in Aichi prefecture, Japan. As an ALT (assistant language teacher), I was assigned to three schools in my contract. My assigned city was a small, rural village called Seto. Aside from being known for pottery, Seto was a pretty uneventful place. The only thing that really stood out about it was this depressing feeling in the atmosphere. It was like a ghost town, but with people still wandering around.

The three schools I was assigned to teach at were Minase JHS, Soto JHS and Motoyama JHS. I could walk to any one of them from my last train, Owariseto station in less than 25 minutes. They were all on top of hills, though, and were never a very fun walk. Regardless, I still enjoyed seeing my kids and having fun playing games with them. The perks of teaching at a rural school come mainly from the small classes, creating an atmosphere that the Japanese like to call 'at-home'.

Teaching at three schools wasn't easy, though. Every week, I'd spend Monday through Friday at one of the schools. Towards around the middle of the week, I'd get a fax (yeah, a fax) from the school that I'd be going to next week with a schedule of what page from the textbook I'd be teaching from. You end up spending a lot of time making lessons and activities, and your work never really ends. Some teachers are there from six in the morning to nine at night, and many of them are married!

I had my fair share of days late in the staff room, leaving school at the latest seven and getting home at nine at night, walking alone on a road with no lights and relying on the moon and my, nearly dead, phone's light to guide my path. Japan is a very safe country, but it holds it's traditions in place without fail. It's a country that, at times, feels stuck in the past. Deja vu becomes a daily occurrence.

It was mid-December when we went on winter break. Japanese companies reward their staff with a bounenkai, or 'end-of-the-year party'. School staff were no exception. I was lucky enough to be invited to my favorite school's bounenkai, Motoyama JHS. We all laughed, danced, sang and joked about the principal's drunken stories. It didn't feel weird being the only foreigner; I was apart of the family.

And that's when the principal started sobering up. "So, Chris-sensei", he chuckled, red in the face. "You like scary stories?"

The room of about fifteen staff members suddenly grew quiet, their faces slowly turning into awkward smiles.

"You know I do!" I joked back.

"When is the next time you go to Minase?"

"After winter break. I'll go straight there. I think it's a Tuesday?"

That's when everyone really got quiet. All eyes were on me and the principal, who was still smiling at me with his eyes half-closed and face red.

"You know," he started slowly. "Minase is haunted. There's a lot of schools in Seto that have a dark past. Even our school Motoyama has some history."

I assumed this was some kind of initiation prank. Everyone was staring at us while he was talking. He looked like he was holding back laughter, but that could have been the alcohol. I played along.

"How so?" I said with the most innocent, lost-foreigner face I could muster. I leaned in closer.

"On Friday nights at Minase, a student who committed suicide in the late 60's comes back to her old classroom, looking for the teacher who mistreated her. She apparently shows up to the school at exactly nine in the evening, right on the dot, and heads straight to the G-class until she just... leaves. Every teacher who's ever seen her immediately quits. Many of them end up committing suicide themselves in a similar manner."

"Principal, maybe that's enough?", one teacher nervously laughed. "Chris is young and impressionable, he might be too scared to go home tonight."

"C'mon, he's fine. He's a big, strong American!" the principal joked, putting me in a headlock. He let me out and waved the teacher off jokingly. I was a bit confused about the whole story, though. I was also very interested. It was more than likely either a practical joke they were all in on, or a Seto urban legend. I've always liked a good campfire story, though, so I wanted to get more details to paint the picture in my mind.

"Hold on," I stopped the principal. "What do you mean by she was mistreated? And what class is she returning to? I've taught in every class in that school, so I'd like to know which one it is."

"It was the G-class," he said sternly. There was no longer a smirk on his face. Either he was getting serious, or feeling queasy from all of that rice wine. Japanese schools use naming systems for different classes. Some use letters, some use numbers, and some get creative and use nouns like fruits. The G-class was the special education class. It was the smallest class at the school, so they couldn't break it into different grades. Every child was put into a classroom together with multiple teachers assigned to them. It was on the second floor, right in front of you as soon as you ascended upstairs.

The principal continued. "One student was very difficult. You've taught the G-class before, Chris-sensei. You know how they can be. They can go from warm and endearing, to very hostile and violent. That's why specially trained teachers are assigned to them. But every now and then you get a teacher that just can't handle them properly."

Everyone in the room looked away from us, but stayed dead quiet. I'm sure they had all heard this story before if it was an actual urban legend, so why look so shaken up now? Maybe this was just a prank on me.

"One teacher," the principal said as he poured more sake into his cup, "... was a very quiet, mysterious man. He had the credentials, all right. But he lacked the human touch. Unfortunately, Japanese education in the '60's wasn't as well-equipped for special needs students as it is now. The teacher grew frustrated with one girl, named Kimiko, that gave him a hard time. She threw books, bit at him, screamed whenever he drew near... until one day he snapped. He began bullying her. Some of the teachers noticed, but didn't know it was on purpose until it was too late. He would throw away her lunch, rip up her homework to make it look like she didn't do it, and even purposely taught her incorrect information for tests.

It was only a matter of time until the girl snapped, already suffering from mental illness. And it didn't take long. Kimiko was forced to stay after school to finish an assignment the teacher had given her. It was above her level, though, and was virtually impossible for her to complete. He wouldn't let her go home until she could finish it. At the time, such punishment was commonplace in Japan. Suicide was rampant around the country, even to this day. So it was no surprise that, when the teacher came back to check on her after relaxing in the staff room, he found her hanging from the ceiling in-between the door-frame of the classroom's entrance. When officials arrived, they deduced that she had officially died at exactly 9 p.m."

I was pretty spooked at this point. Everybody in the room was completely silent, and the party mood had been gone for a while. The principal took another sip. "But, I've never seen it. So for all I know it's probably just some made-up story." I was slightly annoyed at his remark, probably because of how invested I was in the story. I had already decided what I was doing when I got back to Minase.

Fast-forward to January of the next year. Winter break was over, and it was time to get back to work. I arrived on a Tuesday at Minase, greeting all of the teachers I hadn't seen in over a month. Despite being so cold, it was a rainy day. I sat in the staff room at my desk and cut, pasted and drew up new activities for the first year students. The teachers were all busy with getting ready for classes to start up again on Thursday, but the usually noisy staff room was eerily quiet. Maybe it was the rain outside making everything seem gloomier than usual. Maybe it was just me.

I left school early that day and walked home. I had already decided that, on the coming Friday, I'd go up to the G-class a few minutes to nine and see for myself what happens when the clock strikes. But I was nervous, anxious and excited all at the same time. For whatever reason, I wanted to go home today while I still had light.

Wednesday had come and gone. After school was finished, I went up to the G-class at about four in the afternoon. It had been a sunny day, and was still light outside. The room seemed really calm, and there was this warm, summery glow filling up the room. This was not the kind of place I expected a ghost to be hanging out in. The quiet room echoed with only one sound: the clock. That stupid clock. It was a whole three minutes fast. When you're a teacher, every minute counts, and that damned clock had put me into some tight positions on more than one occasion. I had a class to teach here on the next day, and went back downstairs to finish the preparations. Once again, I went home as soon as I finished. I didn't want to walk home in the dark.

Thursday morning arrived to groans from the students and fanfare from the teachers, excluding me. I taught all day long with no free periods. When lunch came, I ate with the first years and listened to them talk about some new anime I had never heard of. The post-lunch bell rang and they began cleaning up their rooms as they do everyday, and another bell soon rang for them to go outside for recess. Being a soccer player, I went outside as well and kicked a ball around with the second years. From the playground, I looked up at the G-class window.

The curtains were closed. They never closed the curtains in the winter because the room would be far too cold with sunlight. I thought it was odd, but paid it little mind. After recess, classes started again and I taught in the G-class with no problems. It was a great class. I had forgotten all about dead people.

School was out early, and I went outside to help coach the soccer team. Every few minutes, I'd look up at the G-class. I was waiting for a girl with long black hair to be staring at me dead in the face like some cheesy Japanese horror flick. Every time I looked, I expected it more. It was like morbid curiosity. I never saw anything. I stayed a bit later that day finishing up some lessons for Friday morning. It was getting dark, and I knew I'd be home in the middle of the night. But I didn't really care anymore. I had desensitized myself to this whole 'ghost upstairs' thing that I really didn't think it existed. I honestly felt like an idiot for genuinely being afraid.

The sun had almost completely set, and the outside was more humid than usual due to the afternoon showers. I began my lonely trek home when I decided to look up at the G-class from outside. I stopped in my tracks. One of the G-class teachers were standing in the window, staring directly out of it, unflinching. I looked to where he was staring, but there was nothing of interest. He didn't even notice me. I instantly went back to being freaked out, for no other reason than it being THAT room. Needless to say, it was a long journey home that night.

Friday morning classes came and went. I couldn't properly think of anything other than what I'd be doing tonight, though. By the time school had let out, I was in the staff room with every lesson plan for next week's school finished. But I had to keep busy. I had to stay here later than usual. I'd never stayed past seven at night, so I was nervous. Really nervous. Scared, even.

By the time five-thirty rolled around, the sun was quickly fading, and a thunderstorm kicked up. "Man, if I do this for nothing and have to walk home in the rain, I'M gonna hang myself next..." I angrily muttered to myself. The teachers were leaving work and headed home one by one. The staff room went from thirty people to fifteen.

By the time it was seven-thirty at night, there for only six or seven teacher left, quietly working at their desks. It was pitch-black outside, as Seto wasn't known for street lights, and the school ground's lights were all off. The dim glow and buzz of the staff room's florescent lights filled the room.

The teachers were leaving left and right. Consequently, I was getting weird looks from the other remaining teachers in the room. I had never stayed this long before. "You're really putting in the hours today, Chris-sensei," one teacher awkwardly joked. I could hear some kind of suspicion in his voice. "Yeah, you know. Gotta make sure my supervisor doesn't think I'm not serious!" We both nervously laughed and went back to our own business.

By eight-thirty, there were only three teachers left, including me. The lights flickered slightly. I panicked. Oh wait, they always did that. I was on pins and needles. My stomach had turned sideways and my mind was racing. The growing thunderstorm outside only made matters worse. I had decided against not going upstairs after a lot of inner-debate, but eventually convinced myself that I had to go do it. I came this far, after all. I waited until it was around eight-fifty before I stood up.

"Gonna head to the toilet," I proclaimed to all two teachers in the room. They silently looked up at me, uninterested, and went back to doing their work. I slowly opened up the door to the hallway and closed it behind me.

One thing that sucks about most Japanese schools is the lack of central air and heating, even in this modern age. It's great for the environment, but definitely requires some mental toughness. The staff room was warm only because of multiple space heaters strategically placed around the room. But the hallways? The classrooms? The bathrooms? Everywhere else? Freezing, or unbearably hot and humid in the summer. Add in freezing January rain and you can imagine how cold it was in that hallway. Every time I exhaled a cloud of vapor impaired my vision, especially because it was dark.

And I mean dark. . Aside from the multiple EXIT signs dimly glowing green, the hallways were just as dark as the outside. I turned on my phone's light and headed toward the staircase. It was so quiet that I began to feel insanity creep in. The muffled sounds of rain pounding the roof and windows along with the subtle buzz of the EXIT sign were driving me crazy. I'd seen scary movies like this before, and I don't know what possessed me into thinking this was a good idea.

I walked up the stairs slowly. Every step I took sent my heart lower and lower into my stomach. I regretted pulling my phone's light out because I didn't want somebody to suddenly appear in view. I'd almost rather be blind to it all. Needless to say, I was more afraid of my own imagination than the actual task at hand. I arrived on the landing of the stairs and readied myself to take the flight up to the second floor. From the landing I could see the G-class right above me beyond the stairs. The door was closed. I creeped up the stairs, terrified of what could be behind that door. Every step I took was a mental battle of press forward or go back, and I somehow always pressed forward, even if I took one step back. I made it to the second floor, and it was even darker than the first. The hallway was long and dark. So dark, that my phone's weak light could only illuminate a few meters in front of me, making the rest of the hallway look like a gateway to the abyss.

I stood in front of the sliding door to the G-class. I didn't know what time it was and was too nervous to check. I was afraid of looking at the time and it being nine on the dot with a dead girl in my face before I could react. "Screw it, I've never been this weak," I whispered to myself angrily, trying to trick myself into mustering up courage. I slid the door open and gazed at the room. It was dark. Pitch-black. I shined my light around the room, for no reason other than pure anxiety. I could only see so far in front of me, so the majority of the room looked just as much like the abyss as the hallway did. The sound of the muffled rain on the massive windows freaked me out too. I was afraid to turn around toward the door because I was so sure the girl would be hanging in the door-frame, wide eyed and staring straight at me. My imagination, again, didn't help the situation.

I shined the light on the classroom clock above the blackboard. 8:59. Here we go. The moment of truth. I stood tall with my back against the window, standing in a position that allowed me to see the entire room at once, despite essentially being blind here. If she does actually appear, at least I won't be surprised to death. 'I'll see it coming' was my reasoning. Twenty seconds left. The sound of the rain outside intensified, but it may have just been my heart beating its way out of my chest. Ten seconds left. I start hearing things. Thunder crackles and the ticking of the clock sound almost exaggerated. I wince slightly and throw my hands up ready to throw a right hook at her if she appears in front of me.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

9:00 PM, Friday night. I shine the light from my phone on the clock to make sure. I breath out, tears welling up in my eyes from sheer terror. A sudden calmness overtook me. Nothing. There was nothing! How could I be so stupid. A spirit coming back to their place of demise at the moment of death; good fiction, but this is the real world. That stuff doesn't happen. I let out a small, cocky chuckle, as if I'd conquered the afterlife. Despite my confidence, I was still too afraid to illuminate the entire room with my phone. Fear of the unknown, maybe? I proudly turned my back to the door, something I was previously terrified to do, and stared outside with a full grin. It was still raining hard, but I felt at peace. When you're terrified one minute and completely fine the next, every small thing seems so beautiful and peaceful. I had the biggest grin on my face for a while and just kept laughing at myself. I opened up my phone so I could tell my friend how stupid I was.

And that's when my stomach dropped all the way into hell. My phone said it was 8:58, and only a few seconds later it changed to 8:59.

I had completely forgotten that the clock in this room was fast. Suddenly, the fight-or-flight instinct took over and I bolted out of the classroom and leaped down the stairs, running down the hallway and back into the staff room, breathing heavily with tears welling up in my eyes again. Only one teacher remained in the room, and looked up at me in surprise. "Everything okay?" she asked. I stared at her for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath, before I nervously nodded 'yes'.

"Oh, okay. That's good. Can you keep that door to the hallway open? It's kind of stuffy in here."

The very thought of leaving the hallway door open horrified me. It could be out there! But I had no choice. I didn't have a good enough reason not to, and planned on heading home soon anyway. I left the door open and sat at my desk, looking back multiple times.

"Is everything okay, Chris-sensei?" she asked. She was the oldest teacher at the school, and always seemed to be a little 'off', but she was very kind.

"I, uh," I responded, still shaking. "I was thinking about heading home, but I heard thunder and ran back. I'm really afraid of thunder."