Now before I get into any of this, I’d like to preface by saying I’m an atheist and a skeptic at heart. I don’t believe in an afterlife, or even a god. But what I’ve seen in the past month of living here has had me questioning that belief. For context, I’m a freshman at the university I’m attending. I love it here, and I’ve made a solid group of friends. I have some other buddies who attended high school with me who are going here as well. While I won’t give away the school I’m going to, I’ll say it’s located somewhere in the western United states.
Now this school isn’t anything special. Just think of your average large university. I chose it because I’d always wanted to go somewhere large. On top of that, a big school means plenty of parties and stuff to do with friends. My first couple of weeks here were actually quite pleasant. I settled in nicely after a stressful move-in. My dormitory is a tall, brutalist-style apartment tower. Twelve floors, and a chow hall across from it. Now it might seem like an imposing sort of building, but it’s actually quite cozy. Think 70’s-style architecture both inside and out. Now as I said, my first couple of weeks were nothing special. By the end of week one, I had learned the names of all the guys on my floor, and I’d consider them all friends.
In my time here, I’d developed a routine of smoking marijuana. Nothing more to it except I like getting stoned. Typically at night, I’d go out and spark up a bowl. Sometimes with friends, sometimes by myself. The day my first “encounter” (I don’t know what else to call it) happened when I’d gone rogue and smoked in the early morning. I stepped outside and walked to a nearby field, admiring the rising sun. After having my fix, I trotted home. I ate some breakfast and decided that since I didn’t have classes that day, I’d get some light chores done.
After the high began to simmer down, I decided that laundry was in order. Gathering my clothes and detergent, I headed down to the laundry room. The laundry room was in the basement. Now the basement was the only part of the place that caused me unease. There were no windows down there, which makes me wonder how anybody living on that level could bear it. Imagine no view? Couldn’t be me. The hallways were lit with fluorescent lights probably older than me. The floors were tacky linoleum tiles, and the tan walls were interrupted by a basil-green stripe. Lots of hard, angular turns. Odd arches where doors must’ve been. It just feels a little too closed off for me to feel comfortable. So I exit the elevator and step into the basement, making my way to the laundry room. A tiny room with five washers and five dryers. About half of the damn things work on a good day.
I tossed my stuff and detergent into the washer and pressed start. After ensuring the machine was working, I made my way to the elevator. As I made my way back to the elevator, I took a hard right. At the far end of the hall, there was an open doorway. I swear, for a split second I thought I saw a glimpse of someone walking past. I thought nothing of it and made my way to the elevator.
The next few days were uneventful. I had gotten home late at night after hanging out with a friend. As I got off on my floor, something caught my eye. The lights that hung from the hallway ceiling were flickering. But it wasn’t the normal type of flickering. A bunch of the lights were flickering. One or two at each end of the hall would blink erratically, before shifting to other lights along the length of the hall. I watched, transfixed for a couple of minutes. The flickering changed, with the lights to my left returning to a solid glow. However, the ones to my right were almost flashing. The flickering from the right began to creep to the other lights down the hall, and I watched as the light over my head began to blink, making its way down the hall. I dismissed this. I rationalized that the building’s over fifty years old, and it’s bound to have some shitty wiring.
I forgot about it for a little while after that. I had some important exams that took priority, and the next two weeks were filled with monotonous study and work. I’d returned back to my dorm after an exam, and I had decided to lay down for a little bit. Chris, my roommate, wasn’t back yet; he had more classes than me. My nap was interrupted by the sound of knocking. At first, I’d elected to ignore it. But the knocking turned to a more intense pounding. Figuring it was one of my friends, I moved to answer the door, looking through the peephole. But when I looked through, It wasn’t one of my friends, but a woman. She looked to be about my age. A tall and skinny brunette woman wearing a red top and black shorts stood at my peephole. I was weirded out. The dorm floors were separated by gender, and I’d never seen this lady in my life. I opened my door.
“Hello?” I asked, giving a gentle smile and trying my best to appear presentable.
The woman’s expression was neutral.
“Hello. Do you know where I could find the walkway between the west and east tower?”
“Uh, sure. It’s on the sixth floor. Take a right down this hall and take the elevator to the sixth floor. It’ll be to your right as well.”
Without so much as thanks, she turned and walked down the hallway. This is gonna sound weird, but I just didn’t like the vibe this chick gave off. Something about her demeanor just felt off. I don’t know how else to put it. I decided to open my door and follow her out to the elevator, but when I turned the corner, the woman was gone. I’d followed her out like, fifteen seconds after she left. The only entrance to the stairs at the end of the hallway was locked by a passkey, and judging by what she asked me, it didn’t seem like she had a keycard of her own. The elevators would take about half a minute to reach my floor from the top or the bottom. I looked at both of the floor indicators, and they were at the top. There was no indicator showing them going them up or down.
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t rationalize it. I walked back down the hall to my dorm, glancing over my shoulder. I could feel paranoia setting in. I spent the rest of the night in my dorm, contemplating the strange woman. I calmed down when Chris got back, happy to have another person in the room. I brought up my encounter with him passively, but instead of ridicule, he responded with intrigue. He told me he had no explanation for it, but he believed my story. I decided to try and forget it, and the weekend of partying after the encounter helped me greatly.
Things changed after that weekend. Not like shit hit the fan, but stuff began to escalate. About three days later, I was back in the basement, doing more laundry. I’d gotten done folding and was taking my clothes back up to my floor. I’d called the elevator. The damn thing was on the top floor. I’d have to wait a little. As I stood there waiting for the elevator, nothing seemed amiss. I was mistaken. To my left, one of the fluorescent lights was glowing brightly. It eclipsed the other lights in the area, and the hum it gave off rose to a crescendo before exploding, the glass coating the inside of the plastic light cover. I jumped back, startled by the sound. A portion of the hall had gone dark, with some of the other crappy lights going out. Now again, I thought it was bad wiring. The unease wore off, and gave way to impatience. It had been over three minutes since I called the lift. It was mid-day. There shouldn’t be any demand for the elevator. I continued to wait. Five minutes had passed. No sign of the coming elevator.
“Fuck it!” I said out loud, my profanity echoing down the walkways, “stairs it is…”
I stared down the now-darkened hallway. Shrugging my feelings aside, I breezed through the corridor and to the stairwell. Dreading the five flights of stairs I’d have to hike in order to reach my room. I sighed and buckled down, carrying my hamper full of clothes. As I made my way up the steps, the only sound was my footfalls on the steps. However, it was when I reached the second floor that I heard the sound of other footsteps above me. I was stopped dead in my tracks and listened. I realized that I didn’t hear the sound of a door opening. The stairwells are notorious for their echoey quality, and the doors leading to it were extremely creaky. I made my way up another flight, but stopped again. The footsteps stopped as well. Whoever was walking down was doing it when I walked, and stopped when I did.
I couldn’t help but feel a chill run up my spine. A whiff of something foul caught me off guard. I couldn’t pin the source, but the stench filling the stairwell was god awful. Like something had been rotting there for days. I gagged as the hideous odor filled my nostrils, and I made my way up. Immediately, the footsteps above began. At that point, primal fear took hold, and I began running up the flights. To my terror, the footsteps above got faster and heavier. The smell intensified as I neared my floor. The steps, now way too close and fast for comfort, got heavier and heavier. It sounded like metal boots slamming into the steps. I ran for the door, but in my fear I had forgotten that it needed a keycard. I ripped into my pockets desperately searching for the card, but when I yanked it from my pockets, the card snagged on my pocket, and I dropped it. My fucking hands were trembling so hard, I dropped it again. The card fell flat on the floor and as I tried to get it in my hands, the footsteps reached the stairs leading to my floor. I froze, bracing for the worst. But all of a sudden, the footsteps, the stench, all of it stopped. Nothing had come for me. I sat there, breathing heavily. Sound had returned to the door and two people passed me, climbing up the stairs. They shot me with odd looks. I couldn’t really blame them. I rose and composed myself and went back to my room.
I have no idea what’s going on. If anyone here has any sort of explanation, please tell me. I have a feeling this is something beyond any sort of hallucination. I have a few other experiences, but I need to take a break before I post those. Again, I have no idea what’s going on at this point. I’ll keep whoever’s interested posted.