Contest Winner
I was just trying to impress her. I wanted to walk out of that classroom with her clinging to me for her defense. I should have taken her to a scary movie or one of those cheesy haunted houses with the fake bloody hand hanging from a cobwebbed ceiling. But no, I thought it would be much more fun to break into the college, go to the one room the professor hung himself in, and dabble in the unknown.
The campus had gone dark and an occasional, eerie light flickered to illuminate a small patch of the sidewalk ahead. Brandy and I waited in the paths that wove through the prairie grass behind the pond at the school. Brandy was stunning to say the least; her dark brown hair fell to her shoulders and framed her soft face, accenting her stunning hazel eyes. I wish I could still be sitting there with her, watching the cool October breeze rustle her hair.
Once we felt most of the staff had left, we made our way toward the school. We stalked past the pond and headed toward Sangamon Hall up the slight incline. I had spent that day jamming chewed gum into the lock to prevent it from coming closed that night. We slipped through the door and proceeded up the stairs to our left. We made it to the second floor when a rhythmic tapping started. “Thwap, thwap, thwap.” It was from behind us. Someone was coming up the stairs. We bolted and made our way to the nearest room. Still came the steady cadence of the feet behind us. But the sound dissipated as soon as it made the apex of its crescendo outside the door. We chuckled as the adrenaline began to drain from us. It’s amazing what the mind can make you think you heard. I looked around and realized we were exactly where I intended to take Brandy that night. Except, I swore the room was much farther away than the few feet we had run. Regardless, this is where I would scare her into my arms.
I placed my backpack on the ground and pulled out a wooden slab no bigger than a game board. I laid it and the planchette on the ground. Looking back now, I should have known that the hairs standing up on the back of my neck was not of excitement, but of my body screaming to leave while I had the chance. But, I continued. I pulled a few candles out of the pack and lit them. The candles’ flames swayed, yet no breeze could be felt in the room. We sat across from one another with the board between us. Across the board in dark etchings, read letters and numbers. I began to tell Brandy the Urban legend.
The story goes that a young professor had moved here from a distant state. He was a fantastic teacher and every year he would choose a student to be his assistant. For their hard work, the assistant would be rewarded with a trip to the island in the Florida Keyes where the professor was raised. Each year, the assistant would send a letter home stating that they would stay on the island, never to be heard from again. One evening, one of the officers from the department on campus heard screaming. He followed it to the source to see the student hanging in midair with no line or tether hoisting them. The professor was said to be chanting and painting occult symbols from the blood that covered the still screaming student. The officer drew his weapon, fired six shots at the professor, and finally turned the gun on himself out of horror from what he had seen. As the professor lay dying, they say his last words were “I am not done yet”. Supposedly, the school buried the story and let truth become urban legend.
She quivered and we began the game. I would ask questions and would force the planchette across the Ouija board to the answers I wanted, in an effort to scare Brandy. But then the board began to betray me and forced its way to an answer I did not intend. I merely thought it was Brandy catching on and messing with me. Brandy asked what the spirit’s name was. The board spelled out D-E-A-T-H. I chuckled and told Brandy she was being very funny and that we didn’t have to play games any more. The board again began spelling N-O-G-A-M-E. I removed my hands out of agitation, yet a chill crept up my back. Brandy removed hers and the planchette began to move I-A-M-N-O-T-D-O-N-E-Y-E-T. Brandy and I quickly rose to our feet, a cold, stuffy air filled the room, and the candles were stuffed out. The odorous smell of sulfur burst to life; I had to stop myself from gagging. The door flung open and a figure stepped into the room. He stared at us and let out a chuckle as a smile burst from cheek to cheek. I felt myself being effortlessly lifted into the air. Brandy’s shrill cry pierced the air while she flung herself toward the door, bumping the figure to the side. Then it all went black.
I’m dead and this is where my soul will rest, and I’ve accepted that. I’m not the only one he’s imprisoned here. Each of his past assistants are still here in the school. I don’t know how he survived. I don’t know who he is. I can’t communicate other than this computer that I can somehow still use. Oh god, I hear him coming. If you’re reading this print it and share it. All I know is this the room is in Sangamon Hall and the four digit room number is 22… Nice try boy, I’ll see you in class, reader.
