Two go in, and one comes out,
The halls will twist, the lights will shout.
Three knocks deep where shadows play,
The school decides who gets to stay.”

Everyone in Greystone knew the rhyme. It was chanted on playgrounds, scratched into desks, whispered near the old Larkmoor Elementary boarded up since the fire. But kids are stupid with bravery, and when you dare them, they go.

Milo and Jen went first. Laughed at the rotting walls, filmed a TikTok in the charred gym. Milo didn’t come out.

Next week, Eric and Tasha tried. Only Tasha emerged, screaming about chairs that moved and walls that bled.

Still, the rhyme pulsed through the town like a heartbeat no one could silence. Kids joked about it like it was a game. They said the school hungered only full when it had one.

Last Friday, four dared to go. But by dusk, a new line had been carved into the concrete steps:

“Four went in, but none came out 
It’s fed enough to grow a mouth.”

Now, at night, the windows breathe. The bell rings at 3:13 a.m. And if you listen, really listen, you’ll hear laughter echoing from deep inside laughter that doesn’t sound like kids at all.