I was working late one Wednesday evening in the cafeteria of a Catholic parish school in Allston, Massachusetts completing sets for a local community theater company’s production of "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever." It was early December and the last of the cast and crew had left for the evening, closing and locking the doors behind them.

As the company’s sole set designer and craftsman I still had several large flats to finish building and with only a few days before opening night I decided to stay late and get as much work done as I could.

The catholic school was an institutional style brick building that dated back to the first decade of the 20th century has been a long time fixture of the predominantly Catholic neighborhood that surrounds it.  In addition to being the local parish elementary / middle school it also served as a community center for the residents of the immediate neighborhood.

The sound of my circular saw echoed through the empty cafeteria and out into the hallway. Scraps of wood and sawdust were piling up all over the floor and my tools were scattered across a row of folding tables to my left. As I cut my way though what had to be some of the cheapest lumber known to man I began to notice what sounded like footsteps running around in the auditorium above my head.  At first it was a dull far off sound, which I ignored thinking that it must be coming from outside or was perhaps just the echo of my saw bouncing off the walls and out into the hallway.

For a brief time I put the odd sounds out of my mind, but the noises continued until curiosity got the better of me. I shut off the power saw and raised my head to listen. I could clearly hear a sound of several people running around the auditorium directly above my head. This running was accompanied by what sounded like the laughter of small children of perhaps 8 and 12 years old. It sounded to me as if a game of tag were being played in the empty auditorium, which also acted as the schools gymnasium during operating hours.  Although it’s not unusual for kids from the surrounding neighborhood to be in the school after hours, I found it odd that a group of young children would be up there so close to midnight on a school night. I was also at a loss to explain how anyone could have entered the school without the key, or at the very least without attracting my attention in the process.
   
Although I've always enjoyed a good ghost story I wouldn't call myself a believer in the supernatural, much less a person interested in experiencing the supernatural first hand. I have always tried to figure out rational common sense explanations for events. Being a rational person I decided to investigate the noises, armed of course with a large flat head screw-driver and a clear knowledge of the closest exits in case my nerves failed me.

I left the well lit cafeteria and climbed the stairs to the auditorium to see what was causing the commotion. By the time I reached the pitch black auditorium the noises had stopped. The only illumination in the cavernous auditorium was the dim light provided by the street lamps outside the high auditorium windows.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness I made my way across the creaky floorboards towards the light switch on the opposite end of the room. I flipped on the switch and looked around the room. I also walked up onto the stage and checked behind the curtain, then out in the hallway beyond the auditorium, but still I found nothing. Chalking the noises up to my imagination or possibly the settling of an old building I went back downstairs and resumed my work.
 
I worked for another twenty minutes without further incidence, but looking over my shoulder from time to time due to my frayed nerves.

Once I’d finished for the evening and had begun to clean up I heard a loud thud come from the hall outside the cafeteria. I spun around and for the briefest second saw something move quickly past the half closed door. It was fleeting and I couldn't quite make it out, and this time I chose not to investigate.

 Instead I went about the business of sweeping up all the sawdust and bits of wood scattered around my work area, when I heard footsteps run up the hallway just outside the cafeteria and past the half-closed door. I looked toward the door, but saw nothing. I listened, but only heard the sound of my own heart beat which was speeding up with each passing moment.

By this time my nerves were beginning to unravel and I knew I needed to get out of the building as quickly as possible. Whoever or whatever was out there seemed to be getting closer and I was in no way interested in coming face to face with it. Even if it were just a child---living or dead---it was playing with me and I’d had enough games for one evening.
 
There was only one last obstacle to overcome. The storage room where I locked up my tools was directly across the hall from the cafeteria. Before leaving I would have to open the door and cross the same hallway where I had just heard the running footsteps.

Gathering what was left of my courage; I collected my tools and quickly moved across the hall to the storage room door. Practically throwing the tools into the storage room, I fastened the padlock on the door and made my way down the long hallway to the exit without so much as a glance backwards. I didn't even bother to turn off the lights on my way out.

It was now after midnight and despite the fact that I was standing on a deserted and dimly lit street on a cold December night I felt the safest I had all evening long.

The following night I had to return to the school to complete building the set.  Because of the scare I had received the previous evening my girlfriend kindly offered to keep me company while I completed the task.

Later that night, the theater group founder stopped by to drop off some supplies and lend a hand finishing the set.  As the evening wore on I decided to come clean about my experience and see what he had to say. He had grown up in that part of Allston and had been involved with the school since childhood.

After telling him the entire story he looked me in the eye and asked me if the children I had heard were laughing or crying. I said I was almost positive they were laughing. He smiled and told me not to sweat it. He said if they were laughing then I had nothing to worry about.  I remember looking at him as if to say, "Is that really supposed to make me feel better?" He told me that in all the years he had worked with the school and the adjacent chapel next door, he’d had a number of similar experiences himself.

Assuming at that point he was just having a little fun with me I asked him why it mattered if the children I heard were laughing or crying.  He became uncharacteristically serious and told me that if ever I were in the school and heard the children crying, that I should immediately drop whatever I was doing and beat a hasty retreat from the building. "You’re joking, right?" was my response.  He shook his head to signify his absolute seriousness and returned to painting the set without saying another word.
 
Having never had an experience like that before I found it difficult to keep it to myself and so made the rounds within our little community theater group to see if anyone else had had similar experiences. Other than the theater group's founder the only other member to confide strange sightings to me was its Vice President. He told me that at about the same time that I'd had my run in with ghosts in the auditorium, he too had experienced a presence. He claimed that one evening while closing up the school after a rehearsal, while in the cafeteria shutting off the lights, he looked up just before hitting the switch saw the face of child peering at him from the same doorway in which I had seen a figure moving past just days earlier.  He’s a man considerably more at ease with that sort of thing than I am so we shared a good chuckle and left it at that.
 

I'm not an easily frightened individual but for the remainder of my tenure building sets for the theater group I flatly refused to work alone in the school at night. In the years that have passed since my experience I have given a great deal of thought to my circumstances that evening. It is possible that some local kids with better knowledge of the school then me managed to gain entrance without my noticing them. It is also possible that I was the subject of a prank, but no one involved with the theater group or the school ever made their joke known to me.