Last Night

I went back to the room again.

I couldn't sleep last night, so I rolled off the couch sometime around two, groped for my jacket in the dark and did my best not to slam the door on my way out.

The hall was quiet , everyone was either asleep in their rooms or were out trying to take advantage of what passes for “nightlife” out here. I braced my self as I opened the hall door and stepped outside.

I wasn’t ready and the cold hit me like a physical blow. I thought I went to school out here to get away from freezing cold weather. They don't tell that the sunny summer heat you see in all the pictures gives way to hand numbing chill in winter. The bitter cold was just one of the many things not in the brochure.

It was foggy, as usual. It is a thick white blanket that creeps out from the sewer grates and covers the ground up to your ankles. It comes from a small creek that runs under the whole town and it only comes out a night, when most decent people have the sense to be asleep.

but not me...

The fog eats my shoes as Overton Hall disappears behind me and I cross Campus Way, hop the fence and cut across the football field (go Reagals!) and come out from under the home bleachers at University Ave.

Across the street was Williams-Cohen Hall in all its glory. As I got closer I could still smell the fresh paint. The plaza was still lit as I hit the door.

The hall was white. So white. White paint, white doors, white light. WHITE. It stood in sharp contrast with the sickly yellowish glow of the Overton dorm halls. I know where I am going and pass the doors one by one, everyone the same save a number. I turn the corner and face the end of the hall.

Room 312...

Adorned with with letters, scraps of paper pictures. Dead roses were taped to and the floor was littered with dried leaves. A yellow police seal is plastered over the hinge. I pull out my notebook and pen with the pretense of take a few more notes, but I have seen this before. I have read the letters and cards...all of them.

Rosie,

We miss you so much.

We are the better for knowing you,

and the worse for having you gone.

M-

There are more. Some are prayers. Some are written on plain notebook paper. I bend down to look a photo. It has fallen under the door. A girl, blond, smiling, face half hidden in the darkness on the other side. I reach to pull it out and the light on the other side of the door comes on.

This line of yellow shoots across the bottom of the door. I almost scream but don't. There can't be a light on in there...but there is.

"Hello?"

Which is a fucking stupid thing to say to an empty room. There is no answer. I stand up and go to knock on the door. I tap and...

There is a shadow. I swear I see a shadow shoot across the bottom of the door. There is not sound, just a second , but I swear it was there. But again there shouldn't be a light, but there is.. there should be a shadow.

But there is.

"Hey."

Nothing...duh...

I see the shadow again and I run. Through the door and out into the plaza. I sprint around the side of the hall, the cold are stings my lungs. I hit the back of the building and start to see black spots, but I don't stop.

Room 312's window is boarded up. They have painted over the scorch marks but haven't replaced the window. I sprint up the the plywood and pull the corner back. It is dark and black and I can't see a thing. No light, just vague, twisted shapes cloaked in darkness.

No light.

Because there can't be.

Its impossible.

But I saw a light.

I head back to Overton and collapse on the couch. I turn off the light, but the hall light is still on and it shines through the bottom crack of the door. I get a towel and cover it up.

I woke up this morning wondering if maybe I dreamt it.

But my shoes were still wet and covered in grass...