9 reactions
My Dorm Is Being Haunted By The Ghost Of A Peeping Tom
Honestly it doesn't even phase me that much, but it still gives me the willies.
I was hanging out in my dorm with my roommate Barb with our two new friends, Tammy and Jason. It was their third year, our second. Tammy was a slim woman with ridiculously thick head of hair; It looked like a lion's mane.
Jason was ok, kind of squirmy looking with rounded glasses and a patchy beard.
I confided in Barb that I was shocked that a gorgeous athlete had shacked up with a scrawny guy like that, she just kind of shrugged it off.
She's been weird lately, came back from summer break all quiet. I wish she'd tell me what's bugging her, but I don't want to push.
But I'm getting off topic, none of that really matters except to set the scene.
We were in our dorm celebrating our first week back. It had been a harrowing few days filled to the brim with benign orientation and "*get to know you, games*."
My personal favorite was hacky sack, because nothing drives college students together better than shared hatred of hacky sack. It was there, out in the simmering sun, were we first met Tammy. Her lucky group was playing no touch football.
Let me tell you she was crushing it; she was running around like a wild dog not breaking a sweat. Meanwhile I was close to stroking out while standing in the heat tossing a beanbag. She came over to us looking to take a break and we hit it off like it was no one's business. She introduced us to Jason later and like I said he's-ok.
Bit scrawny, likes to sit too close to Tammy. Which I suppose is fine, but something about that glint in his eyes gives me the creeps. Alright that's enough expositing for now, let's get to it.
We were in the dorm shooting the shit about class schedules. Tammy was starting her "athletics internship" which was just college speak for "Help the coaches out and we'll bump up your grade."
The thought had yet to strike my mind; what WOULD I do after school? I was still fumbling my way through an English major with fading dreams of being the next Mary Shelly. Barb wants to be a history teacher, maybe I could do something similar.
Isn't that the old adage? "Those who can't-teach." Or something lame like that.
In any case I made the mistake of mentioning the flagellin English Dept in front of Jason; whose eyes lit up with ghoulish glee.
"I'm shocked that dept is still even open, what with the Butcher lurking around." He raised his hands and wiggled his boney fingers and went "ooooo." Tammy laughed and Barb chuckled halfheartedly. I was just annoyed.
Last year a seral killer preyed on our campus, until he went down in a fiery blaze. Seldom few know what really happened that night, and I sure as shit wasn't going to spill the beans to a guy who goes "Ooooo."
"They went online only for the rest of the year, notice how everyone's smiling down at admin." Tammy chimed in.
"If I hired a guy who chopped up half the student body, I'd pretend it didn't happen either." I grumbled.
"I heard the kid they found in the old clock tower; just a bloody mess on the floor, like he had been minced up and flayed all at once-" Jason rambled as Barb winced. Tammy pretended not to notice but did clasp a hand on Jason's knee and cleared her throat.
"Sorry." He mumbled.
"It's-fine." Barb said. She had known the victim in the clock tower. We talked for hours about him, how he always seemed to know a guy, always had the faint smell of skunk on him. Decent dude, charming even.
He didn't deserve what the butcher had done to him.
Jason noticed our discomfort and grew red. He quickly shifted to a new, yet somehow more morbid, topic.
"You know, the butcher wasn't the first time death graced our school." he said in a hushed voice, a crocked smile forming on him. Tammy rolled her eyes and pushed him.
"Jay, come on not this old bit." She complained.
"No let him dig his own grave, it's funny." I remarked. I inched closer to Barb, pretending to get super invested. This got a light smile out of her.
"Nah, this is a great story. Barker Uni' legend." He smirked. "Goes all the way back to the 1980's."
"I think I heard about this; a student disappeared, and they found him entombed in one of the dorms." Barb piped up.
"Well, if you want to get clinical about it, sure that's what happened. Officially anyway, real story is much juicer." Jason replied. He nudged us all together and we huddled on the dorm floor. It was polished hardwood covered by a fuzzy carpet I had brought from home. The frayed bristles tickled my knees as I knelt down, hoping these theatrics were going somewhere.
Jason was getting into it, he had turned the lights off, brought out his phone and sprayed the light in his face. He fiddled with the settings until his face was covered in a low glow, shadows covering his face as he spun the tale.
"It was the fall of 1981, and Romero Hall was being tormented by a seedy freshman. Now it was the 80's so you could get away with a little, eh "harmless" debauchery."
"But this guy? *Pfft* stone cold creep, first class. He was always following the cheerleaders like a dog with a bone, got caught sneaking into the locker rooms several times. Just a creepy little shit. Had the perfect name as well; Melvin, *eugh*, doesn't that just make your skin crawl?" He did a full body shiver for dramatic effect, and I died a little inside.
"He had been disciplined by the schoolboard enough times they could count every zit on his face by memory. He should have been expelled but rumor swelled that his daddy was a big donor. Something had to give, and supposedly some of the RA's got together and conspired to bury him in a ditch out in the woods."
"Of course that didn't happen, and the problem sort of-took care of itself." He let that linger in the air, egging us on to beg him for the rest of the story.
"Well?" I said, cringing as I took the bait.
"Well, Melvin got the kooky idea to drill a hole into the girl's bathroom so he could peep on them from the walls." He grimaced.
"Ugh, gross." Tammy murmured. "There was construction going on back then, and the skeleton of the building was opened up. Old Mel was a skinny kid; so, he could squeeze in and out with minimal issue."
"Can't you just picture it, shuffling past those dusty old walls. Lungs filling with ancient plaster and decayed fiberglass. Tiptoeing in the dark, grasping at the walls for balance. Despite how scummy the guy was, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But it was his own fault, what ended up happening to him."
"See, eventually he wormed his way to the third-floor bathrooms; He could tell from the loose porcelain tiles. He had this little handheld drill with him, more like a corkscrew with a handle." He put his phone in his lap and Leaned against the bedframe. He scooched as close to Tammy as possible and made this turning motion with his hands.
"Grueling work, especially in the dark. Imagine that squeaky handle echoing across the walls, like driving a nail into your ears. After a while, a slither of light burst into the shaft. Mel leaned in, squinting through the little peephole." Jason was miming every little action, though it was no Emmy winning performance.
"Supposedly he could see directly into the showers; and, satisfied with his work, attempted to leave for the day. But he found himself stuck. He had had lodged himself in just the right angle, he couldn't move."
"Struggle as he might, he was wedged in there pretty good. In fact, every jerky movement further embedded him in the walls. Soon enough he was completely stiff, his dull green eye almost jutting out of the peephole."
"Thing of it is, he had entered the wall on a Friday evening. Right on the cusp of a three-day weekend. The floor was empty, the dorm was empty, hell the whole campus had gone fishing for the weekend. It was early Tuesday, when they found him."
"A freshman had waltzed in for a quick shower; and saw his bulbous, scarlet eye staring back at her. They say she screamed so loud they heard her the next state over. Within three days he had perished, suffocated most likely."
"When they pulled him from the wall his body was still rigor and curled up like a dying roach. His eye socket was so swollen, the vitreous itself a jellied ball of blood." He reached to his own eye and stretched the socket as far as it would go, his strained eye spinning as he did so.
"The university covered it up, paid off the family and frankly everyone was happy to see him go. But from then on, there were reports of eerie whispers in the halls at night. Chills in the air, the lingering feeling of being spied on in your most private moments."
I shifted, uneasy at the implication. Barb leaned in, totally hooked, though Tammy had a bored expression on her face. Jason continued.
"Some say they've seen a pale figure lurking in the halls at night, peeking around corners. A Single, scarlet eye jutting out. Forever watching, forever leering." He finished. The end of the story hung around like a bad smell, and we were all quiet. I'll give Jason this, despite his "Where's my hug at?" vibes he could spin a heck of a ghost story.
Tammy sighed as she got up to switch the lights back on.
"He loves that story, tells it every chance he gets." She mumbled, a hint of resentment in her voice.
"It's a great story babe. Spooks the freshies something fierce." He giggled to himself as Tammy plopped down next to him.
"A good story, but it's just that." Barb said with confidence. "Ghosts aren't real." I looked at her with surprise. Jason simply shrugged.
"Believe it or don't, just don't come crawling to me if you wake up to see a leering phantom at your bedside. I did warn ya." He smirked. I stayed quiet, mulling over the thought of the pervy phantom.
I was surprised to learn Barb didn't believe, in spite of all the crazy stories I had told her. Though I suppose killer hyenas and reanimated ghouls were a bit more-tangible.
I've always been a little scared of ghosts. When I was little, I saw *Ghostbusters*, and that alone kept me up for weeks. I used to have nightmares about that disgusting green blob rushing at me from the dark. I would wake up screaming in the night, bed drenched in-stuff.
My mother would try to comfort me, in her own way. A spoonful of foul-tasting medicine and a half-hearted pat on the head and I was back in dreamland being tormented by the ghost of John Belushi.
When I got older, I got over it, though a part of me lingered on the afterlife. Maybe ghosts were real, but at the time I thought they had better things to do then hang around and scare college kids.
Boy was I wrong.
After Tammy and Jason Left, Barb put her earbuds in and started writing something. Homework I figured, so I didn't want to bug her. Instead, I gathered my toiletries and trudged off for an evening steam.
Romero Hall was quiet that evening, the identical doors all tucked in for the night as I walked down the carpeted corridor. The carpet had already seen its fair share of partying that week. There were scattered stains of varying color and smell, it mixed nicely with the whiff of lemon fresh the cleaning staff had used.
Romero hall on a whole was an old building, withering brick and mortar type stuff. The front entrance had these stone steps, and the top deck was flanked by marble columns; carvings of lions etched into the capital.
I'm quite sure multiple people have came and went as it were, why should the ghastly tale of Melvin be any different? As I entered the third-floor women's bath; I told myself that it was all just a story. I had nothing to fear.
The bathroom was quite clean; the floor was grey tiled and on one side were the toilet stalls, the other the showers. There was a row of five and a "handicap" shower at the far end. In front of the stalls was a room length mirror and a counter that held multiple sink basins.
I set my stuff down on the counter and examined myself. I frowned at the reddish roots that begun to take form on the top of my head; I would have to renew the tar black dye job soon enough. I was so distracted by my hair; I failed to notice the slight chill in the air at first. The hairs on my neck stood up like they were held at gunpoint.
I ignored that, thinking it was just that fall weather sneaking in. I reached into the shower and turned it on. The top nozzle sputtered to life, and ice-cold water fell to the bathmat. I ran my hand through the ice wall and quickly turned the faucet; feeling the water slowly turn to steam on my hand. A faint mist began to fill the bathroom as I grabbed my scented shampoos satisfied with the scalding temp.
"Abi." A voice whispered in my ear. I gasped and my shampoo crashed to the floor. My eyes darted around the room, and I was met with nothing.
"Barb is that you?" I called out to the silence. A vain attempt to rationalize that whisper, that raspy voice that sounded nothing like my timid friend. I jumped into the shower, quickly shutting the stall door behind me. It rattled shut and I tried to enjoy the steam.
As I lathered and rinsed, I had this nagging feeling; like I was being watched. I kept looking at the shower walls, white tiles like a checkerboard. There was no hole, no crack in the shield just a paranoid woman trying to enjoy a scalding shower.
That's what I kept telling myself, and I was almost starting to believe it. I let the water pour over me, I could feel the stress just melt as I did.
*Taptaptap.*
I froze-no I hadn't heard that.
*Taptaptaptap*
A slight tapping: my eyes glanced downward, and I saw a shadow under the stall.
*Taptaptaptaptaptap*\-it kept going, this frightful annoyance.
I didn't know what to do, I just called out "Occupied." like an idiot.
The tapping stopped at that.
But the shadow lingered.
I tried to ignore it, just focused on finishing up. I eyed my flowery beach towel I had put on a rack. As soon as I turned the water off, I grabbed it and wrapped myself up tight.
The shadow lingered.
I stood there, the only sound the slight drip of the moaning faucet. Steam surrounded me like fog off the coast of Scottland. I dried off, slowly and deliberately, my eyes not leaving the creepy quiet of the door.
The shadow lingered.
It had not moved once since it appeared. My eyes darted too the slim slits in the door. I could make out nothing, which eased my frantic mind; If I couldn't see it-it couldn't see me. I wrapped my towel fully around my torso and held my breath, taking a tiny step to the door.
The shadow recoiled.
It was so quick I barely had time to register it had moved. There were no footsteps or anything like that; it simply vanished. My heart fluttered, my hand shook as it approached the handle. Strands of hair fell into my field of view, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I just kept telling myself; it's just a story. I grabbed the handle and swung open the stall. I was met with nothing, just a foggy mirror and my cloths still clumped on the counter. I peeked my head out and looked around. Nothing.
I let out an exhausted breath. It was late, maybe Jason's stupid story had gotten to me more than I would have liked. I grabbed my stuff and started towards the fogged mirror.
"Abi Mae." A voice, clear as day standing right next to me. I felt the rank, cold breath on my ears. I whipped around, flinging my shampoo at it.
Unfortunately, "it" was nowhere to be seen. The bottle cluttered to the ground, leaking cotton candy pink wash all over the floor.
"Goddamn it." I swore. I marched over to pick it up. "This isn't funny; Barb, Tammy-it REALLY better not be Jason." I warned. As I bent over, I heard shuffling from behind. I turned and saw moisture dripping from the mirror.
There was a sound coming from it, like rubbing your thumb against glass. I approached the counter, racking my brain for a way to defend against a ghostly attack.
An unseen phantasm was drawing letters in the mist. Each finished symbol dripping with streaks spelt out an unfinished phrase. I could make out a misshapen "M"- an oval "O", a "V". As I stepped closer and the invisible hand finished its task; my face flushed red as I read the whole phrase:
*"Move the towel."*
I scrunched my cover closer to me as I swiped the rest of my stuff off the counter. That's when I saw it.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pale hand clinging to a stall door. It had long, almost translucent fingers. Its nails were chipped and worn, I could see filth and grim caked under them. Tiny, spider-like veins sprinkled the phantom's hand.
The peeping ghoul reared his head around the stall. He had patchy brow hair, stiff and rigid like a bad wig. What little I saw of his face shared the same pale complexation as his hand; likewise, it was also covered in aged grime.
What stood out was his eye. It was this pulsating, crimson orb with a beady black iris. It bulged out of his skull; the corners covered in crust and salty discharge. It was fixated on me, this silent peeper.
"Awe fuck that." I said aloud as I turned and booked it out the bathroom door. I hightailed it out of there so fast I think I broke a world record. The fiend did not pursue, but as I left, I heard that rank whisper once more. It simply said-
"See you soon."
When I got back to my room, I slammed the door, so hard Barb jumped out of her desk. She doesn't startle easily, so going by the look on her face she must have thought me a raving loon.
I imagine seeing your dripping wet roommate hyperventilating and ranting about perverted ghosts is enough to unnerve anyone. After I got dressed, she sat me down and I told her what happened. She was sympathetic but she "had her doubts."
"-It was a scary story, and given your- hyperactive tendencies at times I bet it probably-"
"Are you serious right now?" I exploded at her. "Out of all the things, you draw the line at ghosts."
"I've never seen any credible sources that indicate such things walk the Earth." she said plainly.
"I'm not credible?" I accused. She rolled her baby blues at me.
"That's not what I'm saying. I believe you THINK you saw something-"
"Don't do that, do you have any idea how condescending that is?" I snapped at her. Barb let out an exhausted sigh and fell silent.
"I'm sorry. In any case you were frightened, and I shouldn't belittle that." she finally said.
"I'm sorry for snapping. I guess I'm just tired of dealing with crazy shit, I thought I was past that." She averted her eyes from me, hoping I wouldn't notice. "What's been going on with you, you've been off ever since we got back from summer break." I asked her point blank.
Again, she fell silent.
"It's-it's getting late. I'll tell you in the morning. I swear." She flashed a weak smile at me, and I believed her.
Obviously, I couldn't sleep, so I wrote all this out. I can hear Barb still humming away even though it's almost 2AM-I swear she never sleeps; she's like a robot or something.
I don't know what to do about the ghost. I did some basic research, but realistically how do you kill a specter? I know if I leave it alone, it'll just linger around the school forever and creep till the end of times.
Does anyone know a good home remedy to get rid of a spirit? Because I'd love to hear it.
#entertainment
source
Honestly it doesn't even phase me that much, but it still gives me the willies.
I was hanging out in my dorm with my roommate Barb with our two new friends, Tammy and Jason. It was their third year, our second. Tammy was a slim woman with ridiculously thick head of hair; It looked like a lion's mane.
Jason was ok, kind of squirmy looking with rounded glasses and a patchy beard.
I confided in Barb that I was shocked that a gorgeous athlete had shacked up with a scrawny guy like that, she just kind of shrugged it off.
She's been weird lately, came back from summer break all quiet. I wish she'd tell me what's bugging her, but I don't want to push.
But I'm getting off topic, none of that really matters except to set the scene.
We were in our dorm celebrating our first week back. It had been a harrowing few days filled to the brim with benign orientation and "*get to know you, games*."
My personal favorite was hacky sack, because nothing drives college students together better than shared hatred of hacky sack. It was there, out in the simmering sun, were we first met Tammy. Her lucky group was playing no touch football.
Let me tell you she was crushing it; she was running around like a wild dog not breaking a sweat. Meanwhile I was close to stroking out while standing in the heat tossing a beanbag. She came over to us looking to take a break and we hit it off like it was no one's business. She introduced us to Jason later and like I said he's-ok.
Bit scrawny, likes to sit too close to Tammy. Which I suppose is fine, but something about that glint in his eyes gives me the creeps. Alright that's enough expositing for now, let's get to it.
We were in the dorm shooting the shit about class schedules. Tammy was starting her "athletics internship" which was just college speak for "Help the coaches out and we'll bump up your grade."
The thought had yet to strike my mind; what WOULD I do after school? I was still fumbling my way through an English major with fading dreams of being the next Mary Shelly. Barb wants to be a history teacher, maybe I could do something similar.
Isn't that the old adage? "Those who can't-teach." Or something lame like that.
In any case I made the mistake of mentioning the flagellin English Dept in front of Jason; whose eyes lit up with ghoulish glee.
"I'm shocked that dept is still even open, what with the Butcher lurking around." He raised his hands and wiggled his boney fingers and went "ooooo." Tammy laughed and Barb chuckled halfheartedly. I was just annoyed.
Last year a seral killer preyed on our campus, until he went down in a fiery blaze. Seldom few know what really happened that night, and I sure as shit wasn't going to spill the beans to a guy who goes "Ooooo."
"They went online only for the rest of the year, notice how everyone's smiling down at admin." Tammy chimed in.
"If I hired a guy who chopped up half the student body, I'd pretend it didn't happen either." I grumbled.
"I heard the kid they found in the old clock tower; just a bloody mess on the floor, like he had been minced up and flayed all at once-" Jason rambled as Barb winced. Tammy pretended not to notice but did clasp a hand on Jason's knee and cleared her throat.
"Sorry." He mumbled.
"It's-fine." Barb said. She had known the victim in the clock tower. We talked for hours about him, how he always seemed to know a guy, always had the faint smell of skunk on him. Decent dude, charming even.
He didn't deserve what the butcher had done to him.
Jason noticed our discomfort and grew red. He quickly shifted to a new, yet somehow more morbid, topic.
"You know, the butcher wasn't the first time death graced our school." he said in a hushed voice, a crocked smile forming on him. Tammy rolled her eyes and pushed him.
"Jay, come on not this old bit." She complained.
"No let him dig his own grave, it's funny." I remarked. I inched closer to Barb, pretending to get super invested. This got a light smile out of her.
"Nah, this is a great story. Barker Uni' legend." He smirked. "Goes all the way back to the 1980's."
"I think I heard about this; a student disappeared, and they found him entombed in one of the dorms." Barb piped up.
"Well, if you want to get clinical about it, sure that's what happened. Officially anyway, real story is much juicer." Jason replied. He nudged us all together and we huddled on the dorm floor. It was polished hardwood covered by a fuzzy carpet I had brought from home. The frayed bristles tickled my knees as I knelt down, hoping these theatrics were going somewhere.
Jason was getting into it, he had turned the lights off, brought out his phone and sprayed the light in his face. He fiddled with the settings until his face was covered in a low glow, shadows covering his face as he spun the tale.
"It was the fall of 1981, and Romero Hall was being tormented by a seedy freshman. Now it was the 80's so you could get away with a little, eh "harmless" debauchery."
"But this guy? *Pfft* stone cold creep, first class. He was always following the cheerleaders like a dog with a bone, got caught sneaking into the locker rooms several times. Just a creepy little shit. Had the perfect name as well; Melvin, *eugh*, doesn't that just make your skin crawl?" He did a full body shiver for dramatic effect, and I died a little inside.
"He had been disciplined by the schoolboard enough times they could count every zit on his face by memory. He should have been expelled but rumor swelled that his daddy was a big donor. Something had to give, and supposedly some of the RA's got together and conspired to bury him in a ditch out in the woods."
"Of course that didn't happen, and the problem sort of-took care of itself." He let that linger in the air, egging us on to beg him for the rest of the story.
"Well?" I said, cringing as I took the bait.
"Well, Melvin got the kooky idea to drill a hole into the girl's bathroom so he could peep on them from the walls." He grimaced.
"Ugh, gross." Tammy murmured. "There was construction going on back then, and the skeleton of the building was opened up. Old Mel was a skinny kid; so, he could squeeze in and out with minimal issue."
"Can't you just picture it, shuffling past those dusty old walls. Lungs filling with ancient plaster and decayed fiberglass. Tiptoeing in the dark, grasping at the walls for balance. Despite how scummy the guy was, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But it was his own fault, what ended up happening to him."
"See, eventually he wormed his way to the third-floor bathrooms; He could tell from the loose porcelain tiles. He had this little handheld drill with him, more like a corkscrew with a handle." He put his phone in his lap and Leaned against the bedframe. He scooched as close to Tammy as possible and made this turning motion with his hands.
"Grueling work, especially in the dark. Imagine that squeaky handle echoing across the walls, like driving a nail into your ears. After a while, a slither of light burst into the shaft. Mel leaned in, squinting through the little peephole." Jason was miming every little action, though it was no Emmy winning performance.
"Supposedly he could see directly into the showers; and, satisfied with his work, attempted to leave for the day. But he found himself stuck. He had had lodged himself in just the right angle, he couldn't move."
"Struggle as he might, he was wedged in there pretty good. In fact, every jerky movement further embedded him in the walls. Soon enough he was completely stiff, his dull green eye almost jutting out of the peephole."
"Thing of it is, he had entered the wall on a Friday evening. Right on the cusp of a three-day weekend. The floor was empty, the dorm was empty, hell the whole campus had gone fishing for the weekend. It was early Tuesday, when they found him."
"A freshman had waltzed in for a quick shower; and saw his bulbous, scarlet eye staring back at her. They say she screamed so loud they heard her the next state over. Within three days he had perished, suffocated most likely."
"When they pulled him from the wall his body was still rigor and curled up like a dying roach. His eye socket was so swollen, the vitreous itself a jellied ball of blood." He reached to his own eye and stretched the socket as far as it would go, his strained eye spinning as he did so.
"The university covered it up, paid off the family and frankly everyone was happy to see him go. But from then on, there were reports of eerie whispers in the halls at night. Chills in the air, the lingering feeling of being spied on in your most private moments."
I shifted, uneasy at the implication. Barb leaned in, totally hooked, though Tammy had a bored expression on her face. Jason continued.
"Some say they've seen a pale figure lurking in the halls at night, peeking around corners. A Single, scarlet eye jutting out. Forever watching, forever leering." He finished. The end of the story hung around like a bad smell, and we were all quiet. I'll give Jason this, despite his "Where's my hug at?" vibes he could spin a heck of a ghost story.
Tammy sighed as she got up to switch the lights back on.
"He loves that story, tells it every chance he gets." She mumbled, a hint of resentment in her voice.
"It's a great story babe. Spooks the freshies something fierce." He giggled to himself as Tammy plopped down next to him.
"A good story, but it's just that." Barb said with confidence. "Ghosts aren't real." I looked at her with surprise. Jason simply shrugged.
"Believe it or don't, just don't come crawling to me if you wake up to see a leering phantom at your bedside. I did warn ya." He smirked. I stayed quiet, mulling over the thought of the pervy phantom.
I was surprised to learn Barb didn't believe, in spite of all the crazy stories I had told her. Though I suppose killer hyenas and reanimated ghouls were a bit more-tangible.
I've always been a little scared of ghosts. When I was little, I saw *Ghostbusters*, and that alone kept me up for weeks. I used to have nightmares about that disgusting green blob rushing at me from the dark. I would wake up screaming in the night, bed drenched in-stuff.
My mother would try to comfort me, in her own way. A spoonful of foul-tasting medicine and a half-hearted pat on the head and I was back in dreamland being tormented by the ghost of John Belushi.
When I got older, I got over it, though a part of me lingered on the afterlife. Maybe ghosts were real, but at the time I thought they had better things to do then hang around and scare college kids.
Boy was I wrong.
After Tammy and Jason Left, Barb put her earbuds in and started writing something. Homework I figured, so I didn't want to bug her. Instead, I gathered my toiletries and trudged off for an evening steam.
Romero Hall was quiet that evening, the identical doors all tucked in for the night as I walked down the carpeted corridor. The carpet had already seen its fair share of partying that week. There were scattered stains of varying color and smell, it mixed nicely with the whiff of lemon fresh the cleaning staff had used.
Romero hall on a whole was an old building, withering brick and mortar type stuff. The front entrance had these stone steps, and the top deck was flanked by marble columns; carvings of lions etched into the capital.
I'm quite sure multiple people have came and went as it were, why should the ghastly tale of Melvin be any different? As I entered the third-floor women's bath; I told myself that it was all just a story. I had nothing to fear.
The bathroom was quite clean; the floor was grey tiled and on one side were the toilet stalls, the other the showers. There was a row of five and a "handicap" shower at the far end. In front of the stalls was a room length mirror and a counter that held multiple sink basins.
I set my stuff down on the counter and examined myself. I frowned at the reddish roots that begun to take form on the top of my head; I would have to renew the tar black dye job soon enough. I was so distracted by my hair; I failed to notice the slight chill in the air at first. The hairs on my neck stood up like they were held at gunpoint.
I ignored that, thinking it was just that fall weather sneaking in. I reached into the shower and turned it on. The top nozzle sputtered to life, and ice-cold water fell to the bathmat. I ran my hand through the ice wall and quickly turned the faucet; feeling the water slowly turn to steam on my hand. A faint mist began to fill the bathroom as I grabbed my scented shampoos satisfied with the scalding temp.
"Abi." A voice whispered in my ear. I gasped and my shampoo crashed to the floor. My eyes darted around the room, and I was met with nothing.
"Barb is that you?" I called out to the silence. A vain attempt to rationalize that whisper, that raspy voice that sounded nothing like my timid friend. I jumped into the shower, quickly shutting the stall door behind me. It rattled shut and I tried to enjoy the steam.
As I lathered and rinsed, I had this nagging feeling; like I was being watched. I kept looking at the shower walls, white tiles like a checkerboard. There was no hole, no crack in the shield just a paranoid woman trying to enjoy a scalding shower.
That's what I kept telling myself, and I was almost starting to believe it. I let the water pour over me, I could feel the stress just melt as I did.
*Taptaptap.*
I froze-no I hadn't heard that.
*Taptaptaptap*
A slight tapping: my eyes glanced downward, and I saw a shadow under the stall.
*Taptaptaptaptaptap*\-it kept going, this frightful annoyance.
I didn't know what to do, I just called out "Occupied." like an idiot.
The tapping stopped at that.
But the shadow lingered.
I tried to ignore it, just focused on finishing up. I eyed my flowery beach towel I had put on a rack. As soon as I turned the water off, I grabbed it and wrapped myself up tight.
The shadow lingered.
I stood there, the only sound the slight drip of the moaning faucet. Steam surrounded me like fog off the coast of Scottland. I dried off, slowly and deliberately, my eyes not leaving the creepy quiet of the door.
The shadow lingered.
It had not moved once since it appeared. My eyes darted too the slim slits in the door. I could make out nothing, which eased my frantic mind; If I couldn't see it-it couldn't see me. I wrapped my towel fully around my torso and held my breath, taking a tiny step to the door.
The shadow recoiled.
It was so quick I barely had time to register it had moved. There were no footsteps or anything like that; it simply vanished. My heart fluttered, my hand shook as it approached the handle. Strands of hair fell into my field of view, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I just kept telling myself; it's just a story. I grabbed the handle and swung open the stall. I was met with nothing, just a foggy mirror and my cloths still clumped on the counter. I peeked my head out and looked around. Nothing.
I let out an exhausted breath. It was late, maybe Jason's stupid story had gotten to me more than I would have liked. I grabbed my stuff and started towards the fogged mirror.
"Abi Mae." A voice, clear as day standing right next to me. I felt the rank, cold breath on my ears. I whipped around, flinging my shampoo at it.
Unfortunately, "it" was nowhere to be seen. The bottle cluttered to the ground, leaking cotton candy pink wash all over the floor.
"Goddamn it." I swore. I marched over to pick it up. "This isn't funny; Barb, Tammy-it REALLY better not be Jason." I warned. As I bent over, I heard shuffling from behind. I turned and saw moisture dripping from the mirror.
There was a sound coming from it, like rubbing your thumb against glass. I approached the counter, racking my brain for a way to defend against a ghostly attack.
An unseen phantasm was drawing letters in the mist. Each finished symbol dripping with streaks spelt out an unfinished phrase. I could make out a misshapen "M"- an oval "O", a "V". As I stepped closer and the invisible hand finished its task; my face flushed red as I read the whole phrase:
*"Move the towel."*
I scrunched my cover closer to me as I swiped the rest of my stuff off the counter. That's when I saw it.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pale hand clinging to a stall door. It had long, almost translucent fingers. Its nails were chipped and worn, I could see filth and grim caked under them. Tiny, spider-like veins sprinkled the phantom's hand.
The peeping ghoul reared his head around the stall. He had patchy brow hair, stiff and rigid like a bad wig. What little I saw of his face shared the same pale complexation as his hand; likewise, it was also covered in aged grime.
What stood out was his eye. It was this pulsating, crimson orb with a beady black iris. It bulged out of his skull; the corners covered in crust and salty discharge. It was fixated on me, this silent peeper.
"Awe fuck that." I said aloud as I turned and booked it out the bathroom door. I hightailed it out of there so fast I think I broke a world record. The fiend did not pursue, but as I left, I heard that rank whisper once more. It simply said-
"See you soon."
When I got back to my room, I slammed the door, so hard Barb jumped out of her desk. She doesn't startle easily, so going by the look on her face she must have thought me a raving loon.
I imagine seeing your dripping wet roommate hyperventilating and ranting about perverted ghosts is enough to unnerve anyone. After I got dressed, she sat me down and I told her what happened. She was sympathetic but she "had her doubts."
"-It was a scary story, and given your- hyperactive tendencies at times I bet it probably-"
"Are you serious right now?" I exploded at her. "Out of all the things, you draw the line at ghosts."
"I've never seen any credible sources that indicate such things walk the Earth." she said plainly.
"I'm not credible?" I accused. She rolled her baby blues at me.
"That's not what I'm saying. I believe you THINK you saw something-"
"Don't do that, do you have any idea how condescending that is?" I snapped at her. Barb let out an exhausted sigh and fell silent.
"I'm sorry. In any case you were frightened, and I shouldn't belittle that." she finally said.
"I'm sorry for snapping. I guess I'm just tired of dealing with crazy shit, I thought I was past that." She averted her eyes from me, hoping I wouldn't notice. "What's been going on with you, you've been off ever since we got back from summer break." I asked her point blank.
Again, she fell silent.
"It's-it's getting late. I'll tell you in the morning. I swear." She flashed a weak smile at me, and I believed her.
Obviously, I couldn't sleep, so I wrote all this out. I can hear Barb still humming away even though it's almost 2AM-I swear she never sleeps; she's like a robot or something.
I don't know what to do about the ghost. I did some basic research, but realistically how do you kill a specter? I know if I leave it alone, it'll just linger around the school forever and creep till the end of times.
Does anyone know a good home remedy to get rid of a spirit? Because I'd love to hear it.
#entertainment
source
| 15,000 mlx | |
| 22 | |
| 9 |