Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I let out a shuddering breath, surprised to see my breath cloud over. It’s not that cold in here, and I can hear the occasional tick of the radiator pipes.
I also hear something else.
A soft wail.
A woman in tears.
I hold my breath, straining to hear it better. In the men’s faculty wing of the dormitories, there are only a couple of men: Professor Daniels, a verified mage who teaches the non-magic curriculum, Aman Desi, the linguistics teacher from India, plus Gale Winslow, the custodian, and myself. I’m unsure if Winslow has any magic or not, but if he doesn’t, he doesn’t seem all that bothered having to live among it.
But there are no women in this wing, and most of the rooms here are empty. However, that doesn’t mean Daniels or Desi doesn’t have a woman over. Same goes for Winslow, though he’s in his sixties and doesn’t talk much. I can’t imagine him ever making someone cry.
“Ichabod,” the woman says through a sob.
My heart comes to a standstill. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve imagined hearing Marie’s voice in the night, but tonight it feels different. It feels painfully real.
“Ichabod,” the voice says again. Very clearly Marie.
“No,” I say, my fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “No, you’re not here. You’re dead.”
“Ichabod,” she teases now, her voice changing. Getting mean. Getting more vibrant. “You think you can outrun your past, but you can’t. You certainly can’t outrun me. Not here. Not here, of all places. They will eat your soul, and I will only watch. I’ve led them to you!”
“Shut up!” I cry out, getting out of bed, my blankets tangled around my legs. Once I’m on my feet, the solidness of the rug under me, I feel a little more grounded. I wait and I listen, and her voice doesn’t come back.
Thank God.
But there is something else now. An unusual solid yet wet sound.
Coming from outside my door.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Followed by a soft scraping noise, as if something heavy is being dragged.
I swallow hard, a cold wash prickling down my neck.
What on earth is that?
I reach for my lantern and fumble for the matches on my desk. Luckily, there’s enough light from the moon coming in through the window for me to light the lantern’s candle quickly.
It flames up with a soft glow, my room cast in light and shadows. There’s not much to the rooms here, but they are a lot nicer than the ones I had been staying in before. I have a wardrobe, my bed, a desk, plus my own private toilet, basin, and tub. All of it overlooks the lake, which tonight is just a black oil slick beneath stagnant fog, the moon barely reaching through.
Slowly, I creep toward my door and stop once I reach it, listening once more.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
What the hell is that? I steady myself and put my hand on the knob and turn, curiosity getting the better of me as it always does, my lantern shaking, causing the light to dance.
Slowly, I open the door, the hinges creaking, terribly loud, and look out into the darkness of the hallway.
My breath hitches. There is a long trail of what looks like blood leading down the hall, a slick path that dances dark red in the lantern light, and at the very end is a figure, an adult body on the floor, dragging themselves around the corner.
Jesus Christ.
I stand there, and I stare, and the fear is so overwhelming that I can’t even take a breath.
What if this isn’t in your head? I think. What if this isn’t a ghost? What if this is real? What if they need help?
I set my jaw and steady myself and step out into the hall, my lantern held like a shield against the dark. Ghosts exist, but so do horrible accidents that involve humans. What if this person was involved in one?
The person on the floor has disappeared around the corner now, leaving only the trail of blood. I take a moment and crouch down, my fingers brushing lightly over it. It’s thick like blood, and when I bring my hand to my nose, it smells like it too, sharp and metallic. All my senses are saying this is real, that this isn’t some transmission from the afterlife.
I straighten up and carefully make my way down the hallway. I want to call out after them, but I stop myself time and time again, as if there’s some hidden part of me that’s making me stay quiet. I suppose if the person is so grievously injured whomever committed the crime could still be on the floor, I don’t want their attention. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
The building that houses the staff is an old stone one closest to the lake, shaped like two Ls that come together in a grand circular staircase. The bottom floors are full of classrooms while the upper floor of one of the Ls houses the women while the other L houses the men. My room is at the end of the men’s L, so when I come around the corner, I expected the person to be gone for some reason, as if they wouldn’t dare venture into the other wing.