NORTH HALL IS HAUNTED

It figures that Id be the one the ghost appears to, ranted the coed. Scary old Susan, spirits friend. Too spooky for this world. Too weird to fit in. Thank God for the time I spent with Aunt Celia. Shes the only loving person in my whole damn family.

Why, Id better open that package she sent me! Oh, look! She remembered how much I love chocolate chip cookies. Awww! A photo of her and me at the Thousand Islands, New York. We had such fun on that vacation! We shopped, swam, and took the boat tour. Why couldnt Celia have been my mother? She has respect for my feelings. She wouldnt have sent me to this spooky, old college!

Bursting into tears, Susan threw herself on her bed and buried her head in her pillow. After she had cried herself out, she sat up and blew her nose.

M-M-Maybe I should see what the ghost wanted, mumbled the girl. Didnt prissy Barbara say a Ouija board lets you communicate with the spirit world? Duh! I should know that. I just wrote a paper for psych class on Ouija boards. I even examined the one Sherry has in her closet while I was doing my research. There. I see it.

My professor warned against using the board when I chose this topic, reflected the girl, tugging tentatively on her long hair. I even listened to him. But that was. . .before. Even if spirit channeling is a dangerous business, I just gotta try to reach that. . .that ghost. She seemed so happy. Something I want to be. Maybe. . .she. . .can help me. She couldnt be an evil presence, the way she was smiling. . .

Susan picked up the wooden planchette and laid it on the board. The planchette was heart-shaped and had three felt-tipped legs that facilitated its movement. In the center was a plastic window to peer through.

Susan placed her right hand on the planchette. As she deliberately began circling the board with it, she asked politely, Did I see the North Hall ghost?

Susan pressed a little harder on the Message Indicator. She moved it faster. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker. A hair brush floated from the girls dresser and hovered in the air. The girl screamed and let go of the planchette. Her hand no sooner sprang from the heart-shaped object when it moved on its own and spelled out the letters Y E S.

W-W-Why did you visit me? stuttered the girl as the brush flew into her hand.

I F E L T Y O U R P A I N, answered the planchette.

As Susan read the message, the bulb in her roommates study lamp flashed wickedly and blew out. Then her psychology text lifted from the desk and began circling her head. Its movement had a hypnotic effect on her, and she asked numbly, What should I do?

The textbook dropped into Susans lap and flew open to the chapter dealing with suicide. Afterward, the planchette moved slowly and deliberately to spell J U M P.

A smile played across Susans lips. She rose from the bed. After walking rotely to the door, she turned the lock. The door creaked open of its own accord. She stepped into the hall. There, a sudden gust of cold wind mussed her hair and numbed her paling cheeks. She strode transfixed toward a wispy figure standing atop the stairwell railing. The figure smiled invitingly and held out her arms in a gesture of love.

Just before Susan reached the beckoning spirit, a second blast of wind blew her hair across her eyes. When she reached to clear her face, her hand brushed against the crucifix in her breast pocket. The holy cross felt warm to her touch, and she could feel her heartbeat pulsing through it. Images of her dear Aunt Celia popped into her brain with sun-filled afternoons and tall glasses of delicious lemonade.

With a shake of her head, Susan cleared the strands of hair blocking her vision.

Clutching the crucifix, she saw the ghosts sweet smile twist into a malicious leer. An expression of self-loathing and total despair revealed the fate that doomed her soul in 1917.

The damned arent happy! cried Susan. In the name of Jesus Christ, get away from me!

With a fearful gasp, the ghost recoiled at the holy name. Before Susan could again say Jesus Christ, the figure lunged forward to snare the coed in its lethal arms. Susan dodged and bolted for the stairwell. In the next instant she was sprinting for all she was worth toward the fifth floor. No lights came on there in response to her cries for help, so she scrambled down and down into the bowels of North Hall. Blindly she ran with a cold wind shrieking at her heels, trying to capsize her. Only her instincts and awakened will allowed her to keep her balance as the wind buffeted her from behind.

Susan descended to the cafeteria just as her churning legs were turning to rubber. She no sooner stumbled into the murky room than a hellish, disappointed wail filled the stairwell behind her. The cold, pursing wind came to a sudden halt and then sucked upward floor by floor until it vanished in the direction of the attic.

With the last of her strength, Susan crossed the cafeteria, pushed through the hallway doors, and staggered past the vacant TV lounge to Mrs. Phillips suite. Fighting back the blackness closing around her, she rapped desperately on the smiley face taped to the housemothers door.

The terrified girl tottered at the threshold until a very sleepy Mrs. Phillips answered her flurry of knocks. I couldnt jump! Couldnt jump! babbled the coed, collapsing into the housemothers arms. Help me. Please! Help me. . .live. I want so much. . .to live. . .To thank Aunt Celia. . .for her. . .love. . .