I have a weird story that I don’t know what to do with. I have no explanation for what I saw, nor do I know of similar stories, so I will just share it here.
My schedule on Tuesdays and Fridays is terrible. I barely have time to eat before I have to be at the FEUture Center by 7:30 a.m. I would normally take the elevator, but I figured taking the stairs to the third floor once in a while wouldn’t hurt.
By the time I reached the third floor, my heartbeat was pounding in my ears. Panting, I reached for my classroom’s door, turning the doorknob to let myself into the frigid room. It was deserted. I fumbled with my phone to check for any announcements, and sure enough, our professor had cancelled classes. Irritation rose from my shallow breaths, but I nonetheless slid into my usual seat, even though I could sit anywhere since I was alone.
Well, I say alone. But there was one other person there. A girl I know. Her hair was covering her face, and she was looking down at her phone. I tried to say hello, but she seemed distracted. I let it be, since I knew not everyone is a morning person. I myself isn’t.
Since I had this free period, I decided to worry about my other courses. I shivered from the cold air of the room, half-glad of the comfort it brought, half-sleepy from its lulling embrace. I glanced at my classmate, seeing if she too was cold, but her head remained hung, her hair still covering her face, blocking me from reading her expression.
“Hi,” I said again. No response.
Then I stood up.
I needed to use the restroom, groaning because I had to climb another set of stairs since they alternated genders between floors. As I swung open the door to the fourth floor, I saw a girl entering the restroom carrying the exact same bag as my classmate downstairs.
Must be a coincidence, I thought, and made my way toward the bathroom.
And then I stopped. At the counter, the girl was fixing her hair, her things set in front of her. I eyed her messenger bag and all its enamel pins, her water bottle and its vinyl stickers, her long shiny hair and the clips she had styled it with, and finally, her questioning face reflected in the wall mirror.
“Hi,” I managed to stumble. I tried to still my shaking. She said hello back.
“Weird question, but what time did you get here?” I asked.
“Just now, actually, since our first class was cancelled,” she answered, smiling at me through the mirror.
I stood there, shivering in disbelief.
“Do you mind coming with me to our classroom?” I asked again, my voice shaking.
I knew she was weirded out, but she came with me anyway.
In all my years at FEU, an empty classroom was an open invitation to stay and lounge. But when we opened that door and saw red stains on the table and chair where the girl sat, all I wanted to do was leave. So we did.
I had always thought that because it was new, the FC Building could not have paranormal lore. But I guess the soil on which we build our world seldom relinquishes the memories buried within it.
Since then, I have not wandered around the FC Building alone. Whenever a classroom turns frigid, I shiver not from the cold, but from the memory that I am reminded of.
- Micah Seiri
( Photo by Prince Espela/FEU Advocate)