This story was inspired by the architecture and histories of older college campuses. Surely there must be ghosts hanging around at least a few of them?
Closing her eyes didn’t really help. The room cloaked in darkness, with only a crooked thread of light to peek out from between the curtains. If Khloe squinted, she could make out the silhouettes of the furniture, tinted blue in the film of the midnight hour.
Her mattress wasn’t uncomfortable; if a bit thinner than the one she was used to back home. At least she’d picked out a nice new bedding set, soft and bright with flowers in bold, hot colors.
The thought only offered a shrivel of comfort. None too soon, Khloe drowned again under the onslaught of fear.
What if she pretended she was on vacation? She wasn’t really huddled in a dorm, crushed by the pressure to make this place her home. She sunk into a hotel bed, with the soft hum of the air conditioner to lull her to sleep. Yes, this was merely a vacation…a vacation where Khloe had to trudge to class and battle her way through homework assignments and semester projects…
She hissed a sigh into the darkness.
You’re gonna get to go home as soon as the weekend comes. And on every weekend afterwards, unless she found a reason to stay.
She could get through one week at a time, couldn’t she?
Maybe not, Khloe reflected as an ashamed bush seeped across her cheeks. She’d never spent even a night away from her friends or her family before.
Your roommate can be your friend, can’t she?
Though that placed entirely too much pressure on the possibility. What if she and Khloe just weren’t compatible?
“Hurry along—or we’ll be late!”
Khloe choked down her scream.
Creville University wasn’t known to be a party school; she shouldn’t have heard anyone running around the halls at such an hour. And the dorms had thickened with silence since Khloe and her roommate (or, rather, just her roommate) had settled into sleep several hours ago.
The RAs, while friendly enough, had warned the freshmen no one would be allowed out of their rooms past one o’ clock except to use the bathroom.
Khloe snorted. Was someone merely late to take a piss?
The delicate clacking of shoes strummed up the hall next. If Khloe wasn’t mistaken, they accompanied with the swish of fabric—as if someone hurried by draped in a pile of bedsheets.
College kids wore sweatpants and loose t-shirts. What the hell could’ve been making that much noise?
Giggles smattered in the silence. The loudest chuckle burst just outside Khloe’s door, startling a jolt of adrenaline through the girl.
A white light flickered through the gaps around the door.
Was that a…flashlight? But no, it didn’t hold steady—rather, it twinkled, pulsing like some sort of nebula in the darkness.
Something about it bled with an awe and a beauty. Curiosity tugged at Khloe, pushing aside her concern to make way for reckless impulse.
The laughter, clattering, and swishing began to fade, retreating down the hall. The light disappeared.
Disappointment burned in Khloe’s chest. Before she could give herself time to think, she leapt out of bed and padded to the door.
Grab your key card. She swiped the key off her desk, shoving it in her pocket as she hopped into her slippers.
Out in the hall, a white glow shone near the stairwell. Khloe squinted at the distant glimmer as her eyes adjusted from the darkness.
Two girls…two young women, Khloe corrected herself, as they looked to be about her age, and she wasn’t yet used to referring to herself as older than a teen.
They whispered to each other, dressed not in sweatpants and t-shirts, but…ball gowns? Long reams of fabric gathered into silky bodices and poufy skirts. Lace and ruffles peeked here and there. Jewels glittered on their necks and wrists. Their hair gathered up into coils, pinned with glitter and crystal.
They slipped into the stairwell.
The RAs won’t believe you if you tell them you left the dorm for ghostly girls in ballgowns.
But Khloe dashed out of her room anyway, sneaking a hand into her pocket to ensure her key card bounced against her leg.
She sprinted towards the stairwell, then clambered into the tall, moon-bathed space.
At the bottom, Khloe peeked into the lobby, where the young women swished across the floor.
They pushed out the front doors at the same time Khloe pounded towards the exit.
Outside, she stumbled into a burst of mellow summer air. The stars twinkled in a cascade overhead. The grass glistened in emerald flashes.
The ghostly girls hurried up towards the center of the campus, where the lawns all but swallowed meandering paths. The buildings rose stark against the night—the modern angles of the library, and the ornate sculpting of the historical wing beside it.
The girls angled towards the largest of the structures—the elegant, imposing grandeur of the campus’s crown jewel.
The old mansion had once served as the summer home for the family who’d used to live here; back when the town had been nothing more than a playground for the rich.
No one should’ve been in there now—but golden lights twinkled in the windows of the manor.
Khloe halted, windmilling her arms as she nearly tripped on the rubbery soles of her slippers.
What exactly was going on—and should she really have been trying to find that out?
But her curiosity tugged at her even sharper. She was already out here…the night was so beautiful…and if those girls had wanted to hurt her, then they would’ve done so already, wouldn’t they have?
Khloe scrambled back into motion, tracking the girls as they slipped past the manor’s back door. She slammed into the entrance herself with an oof, heaving the heavy wood slab aside.
She skittered into the dimly lit darkness of the foyer. The marble floors glimmered like moonlight on water. Brighter pulses teased down the hall to Khloe’s right, where a set of closed doors led into the manor’s ballroom.
Khloe assumed the girls had disappeared beyond it—but they stood in the foyer, clustered around a mirror to check their hair and makeup.
Her limbs froze along with the breath in her throat.
The newcomers didn’t appear to be toting weapons—but Khloe didn’t exactly know who they were, nor what they were doing here. She didn’t want to let them see her until she knew the answers to those questions.
“What are you doing here?”
Khloe jerked, then spun back towards the door.
“No! Wait!!”
She halted a few feet from the exit, her hand frozen halfway towards the knob.
The two girls strode towards her, soft smiles on their faces. Up close, color layered over their translucent forms like a painting. One’s skin was a rich brown, complemented by deep black ringlets and a pale blue gown. The other’s creamy complexion offset with honeyed curls and shimmering golden satin.
“Why,” the second exclaimed, “you don’t have a dress for the party!”
Khloe glanced down at her pajamas. Now that the fear of death had drained from her nerves, she licked at her lips, searching for words. “No,” she lamely agreed. What party? I wasn’t invited to a party.
“Well,” the first declared, settling her hands on her hips, “that simply won’t do.”
Khloe blinked. “Um…I’m…invited? To—what?”
“To the ball, silly,” the second girl chided, giggling. The glow around her seemed to intensify as she smiled and took Khloe’s hand. Khloe had expected it to go right through her; but the young woman’s fingers were warm, and the glove buttery soft. “If you saw us, then you must’ve been invited.”
Um…okay. Who was Khloe to argue with such logic? She wasn’t well-versed in ghost etiquette, after all.
And, if she was already out here, primed to get in trouble for having left her dorm after hours…then why not have a little fun? “Okay. Um…wh-where do I get a ball gown?”
The girl holding her hand grinned again, creasing dimples in her cheeks. “Excellent! Let me show you—it’s right over here.” She stepped back, tugging Khloe with her. “My name’s Margaret, by the way; but you can call me Rettie.”
“And I’m Helen,” the first girl introduced.
Khloe waved with her free hand. “I—I’m Khloe.”
Rettie led her towards one of the doors running along the back of the hall; where Khloe knew the administration kept their offices.
But when her guide swung it open, the chandelier overhead flickered to life, glittering across racks and hangars of gowns.
Khloe sometimes had dreams like this—wandering the aisles of an imaginary store, in search for the perfect dress to attend an extravagant soirée.
But instead of waking up just before she made her final decision, the girl wandered leisurely, perusing every option. She hissed when she spotted an off-the-shoulder piece, its bodice a stark white before richening into a waterfall of magenta, maroon, and deep violet. A thin golden ribbon tied off at the waist, and matching flowers embroidered down the skirt.
“This is it,” she whispered. “This is the one.”
As Khloe reached out to touch it, the dress dissolved.
The disappointment leapt inside her for only a moment—before the dress melted onto her, replacing her lightweight sweatpants and baggy shirt. It clung with a delicious softness and a perfect heft. Khloe wiggled her bare toes against the carpet, unable to hold in an excited giggle.
Helen and Rettie guided the girl into the next room, where she selected a slightly heeled pair of violet shoes with a jeweled buckle. Then they whirled her into the next, where Khloe donned a few diamond, amethyst, and ruby bracelets, with a thin choker and a pair of drop earrings to match.
Lastly, she poised before a mirror, where her hair twined itself into a series of thick rolls, draping to her shoulders in a wide, loose braid. Jeweled clips burrowed inside of her black locks.
The lightest of blush painted over Khloe’s olive cheeks. A touch of eyeshadow offset the amber of her eyes.
“Now you’re ready,” Helen declared.
She and Rettie ushered the girl back out into the hall.
A knot of nerves tied itself in Khloe’s stomach; but at least she already knew two of the people who’d be going to the party.
She pulled in a bracing breath as the doors to the ballroom swung open.
The light diffused as warm and gently as the breeze on a summer day. The golden glow painted over mint-green walls, highlighting the detail of the plaster moulding on the ceiling. Gilded frames of the Crevilles, the family who’d once called this place their home, lined along the space.
Tables boasted crystalline glassware and ice sculptures. Silver platters spread with savory appetizers and delicate desserts—tiny sandwiches, meatballs, fried balls of dough, vegetables wrapped in paper-thin cuts of meat; then cakes, cookies, the golden-brown puff of pastries, and small cups of ice cream.
This must’ve been a dream—the most luscious, lucid dream Khloe had ever experienced.
Helen and Rettie introduced the girl to their friends—well-dressed men and women in trimly fit suits and poufy gowns. They asked for her name, whether this was her first time coming, and what she thought of the party. Then they asked her to dance—the men and the women alike.
Romance wasn’t at the forefront of Khloe’s mind at such a time. She said yes over and over again, relishing in the soft swish of her gown and the sweeping rhythms of the waltzes. Sometimes the music pounded along like a march; while at others, it thrummed deep and haunting throughout the hall.
Every so often, a syrupy light tune wandered in, giving the dancers a break to refresh themselves.
Khloe sipped at punch from oversized bowls, spooned up shots of ice cream, and nibbled at cakes and candies.
A photographer roamed the room, awaiting eager guests who wished to commemorate their moment.
Emboldened, Khloe sought out Helena and Rettie, and the three ran giggling arm-in-arm over to where the photographer stood. They posed, winced through the flash of the camera, and then waited for three copies of the photo to develop.
* * *
Time dissolved into the golden haze of the ball. Oddly enough, Khloe never felt herself tiring, despite the amount of times she swirled across the dance floor.
Eventually, her new friends reappeared by her side.
“It’s time to go,” Rettie announced.
Khloe couldn’t help the resigned drooping of her face.
Helen patted the girl’s arm. “We’re sorry. You need to get back before anybody notices you’re gone.”
* * *
Khloe followed the two back out of the mansion, taking a pause at the dressing rooms to strip off her makeup and return her outfit. Her pajamas and slippers reappeared.
Helena and Rettie accompanied the girl all the way to her dorm, ensuring she made it back without notice.
“Thanks so much,” Khloe gushed, hoping whatever magic ensconced the night would keep her roommate asleep as she whispered. “That was great—more fantastic than I could’ve ever imagined.”
Rettie grinned. “We’re glad you thought so. You’re welcome back anytime, you know.”
Khloe returned the smile. “I’d be more than happy to go again.”
The young women waved one last time before backing out the door.
Khloe tossed her key card onto her desk, shook off her slippers, and climbed back into bed. The covers welcomed her back with a warmth that lulled her quickly into sleep.
* * *
Sunlight always washed away whatever tatters of dreams tried to follow Khloe into waking. Sometimes she remembered enough to piece them together; and others glimpsed at slivers she couldn’t possibly understand.
The party washed back to her on rich waves of detail. Khloe lolled against her pillow, luxuriating in the memories as long as she could.
Eventually, though, her classes beckoned.
After her roommate had dragged herself out of bed, Khoe sat up, stretched, and swung her legs to the edge of her mattress. The cool concrete of the floor met her feet. She pushed upright and padded towards the closet.
Just beside the desk, however, she froze.
A sepia-toned photo sat atop the surface. The brownish inks formed the image of three girls in gowns, their eyes sparkling and their grins giddy.
Khloe smiled. She popped open a desk drawer and slid the photo inside. After a last pat, she slid the drawer shut and moved on to her closet.
Leave a comment