Heck ya I do let me tell you what ive been th, where it had to be a ghost.
I commandeered the room in the basement of my dorm as soon as I realized I would have to pull an all-nighter in order to prepare for tomorrow’s final exam. My roommate, Jenna, liked to get to bed early, so she packed up everything she thought she would need and went downstairs to study . . . and study . . . and study some more.
It was two o’clock, when I realized that I'd left one of the textbooks upstairs on my bed. With a dramatic sigh, I rose, and climbed the stairs slowly to my third-floor dorm room.
The lights were dim in the long hallway, and the old boards creaked under my weary tread. I reached my room and turned the handle as softly as I could, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, so that the hall lights wouldn’t wake my roommate. The room was filled with a strange, metallic smell. I frowned a bit, my arms breaking out into chills. There was a strange feeling of malice in the room, as if a malevolent gaze were fixed upon me. It was a mind trick; the all-nighter was catching up with me. I could hear Jenna breathing on the far side of the room—a heavy sound, almost as if she had been running. Jenna must have picked up a cold during the last tense week before finals. I crept along the wall until I reached my bed, groping among the covers for the stray history textbook. In the silence, I could hear a steady drip-drip-drip sound. I sighed silently. Facilities would have to come to fix the sink in the bathroom…again. My fingers closed on the textbook. I picked it up softly and withdrew from the room as silently as I could. Relieved to be out of the room, I hurried back downstairs, collapsed into an overstuffed chair and studied until six o’clock. I finally decided that enough was enough. If I slipped upstairs now, I could get a couple hours’ sleep before my nine o’clock exam. The first of the sun’s rays were beaming through the windows as I slowly slid the door open, hoping not to awaken Jenna. My nose was met by an earthy, metallic smell a second before my eyes registered the scene in my dorm room. Jenna was spread-eagled on top of her bed against the far wall, her throat cut from ear to ear and her nightdress stained with blood. Two drops of blood fell from the saturated blanket with a drip-drip noise that sounded like a leaky faucet. Scream after scream poured from my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself any more than I could cease wringing my hands. All along the hallway, doors slammed and footsteps came running down the passage. Within moments other students had gathered in my doorway, and one of my friends gripped my arm with a shaking hand and I pointed a trembling finger toward the wall. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Then she fainted into her friend’s arms. On the wall above my bed, written in my roommate’s blood, were the words: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” I ended up failing the exam. (64%) RIP Jenna C. 2-4-11.
Scariest day of my life ever, I am still scared to this day. I believe in ghosts.
