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The lark Chronicle OCTOBER ISSUE Haunted Hall!! By: Scott Kozak Writer and Editor The following is a true story: It was brisk fall morning when I awoke suddenly, as if startled from a dream, what was it? I could not recall, but a chill lingered in my bones. Mid-September and I already was finding it difficult to tear myself from the warmth and safety of my comforter. It is going to be a long semester I thought. As I finally mustered the courage to peel away the covers, I was intrigued to find a perfect and rather large red handprint across my belly. It was as if one of the Red Dragon football players had given me a five star in my sleep, but of course my door was locked. Placing my hand over it, I was shocked that while it did not hurt the hand print was far too large to have been my own. A mystery to be sure, but with class and school work waiting, I had little time to dwell upon this curious happening. So it was that it drifted from my thoughts and memories until a little over a week later. By chance I was talking to Liz Leydon, an RA in Casey Tower who was making cutouts for her bulletin board. Liz has asked me if Clark was haunted and I, not one to believe in hokey superstitions, vehemently denied it. Liz did not seem convinced. She went on to tell me the strangest of stories. A week ago, she said, she awoke panting from a nightmare. In her dream she had been transferred to Clark Hall and there she received the most ghastly of greetings. She explained to me how in her dream she woke up to find a large red handprint on her hip just below her stomach. “It completely freaked me out,” she said with fear in her eyes. Goosebumps ran up and down my spine as I recalled what happened to me, surely it was just a coincidence. Or was it? Thoughts and images rushed through my mind; the eerie blinking lights in the elevator car, slamming doors, and the deep chill that seems to fill the corridors at random. The red hand that appeared unprovoked on my stomach. But these are nothing, a faulty bulb, heavy fire-doors, and poor heating and ventilation. Hell, the hand-print was probably my own, a result of sleeping on it for hours which flattened it out and made it appear larger. Still have you ever been walking through the hall late at night only to hear the creaking sound of metal on metal as the elevators doors open, un-summoned. Then when you look inside… nothing! I have, and so has every RA doing rounds at 2 A.M. on a Sunday morning. Everything I wrote above is true, ask my girlfriend who saw the red hand print later that afternoon, or ask Liz about her dream they will tell you. Still perhaps all this really is hokum. Or maybe, when you look inside the empty elevator car late at night it isn’t really empty at all.

Clark Chronicle

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