Stories Not Quite Scary Enough To Tell In The Dark, But Still Nearly Chilling

The Poop Whisperer

Bastien knew the spot of every rest room on campus better than his own backside. With a heavy schedule and almost no time for recreation as an engineering student, those few moments of personal meditation found throughout the day were crucial. For Bastien, there was nothing more troubling than needing to do ones business in a stall that had toilet paper all over the floor, or worse all over the seat, a surprisingly all to common occurrence when dealing with engineers. For that reason, Bastien preferred the arts or the English building in a pinch. Both were filled with weird and winding corridors, labyrinths that hid pristine places of rarely used personal porcelain. This of course meant a healthy amount of advance notice, and occasionally a bit of sprinting in order to avoid accidents, but the peace of mind, the peace of soul that came from relaxing alone, surrounded by sanitized tile, and stainless steel,combined with the warm buzz of the fluorescent ballasts in the light fixtures overhead was essential to his state of being. Sometimes, if Bastien were quiet enough he could trick the motion sensors into thinking the room was empty allowing him to enjoy a few moments of quiet, isolated darkness. It was a strange kind of personal zen, but for Bastien it was the difference between college life and death.

Having just finished a particularly grueling five hour physics exam, with only thirty minutes before his next class, Bastien slipped quietly down the back staircase into the abandoned catacombs of the arts building. There were several good spots down here if you didn't get lost: locker rooms with showers connected to stages with rarely used dressing rooms. Opening the restroom door the lights flickered to life. It was just as he had hoped. Clean, quiet, and all to himself!

Even here one had to pick ones stall carefully. Corner stalls being most preferred were generally not as clean as the more forward situated, but a stall next to a urinal left one dangerously next to the busy thorough fare and occasional spray of users with bad aim. An freshly cleaned handicap stall afforded a luxury of space, but those were rare this time of day. Bastien settled in to an middle stall, letting the cool of the porcelain seat pull the stress and strain of the afternoon away from his mind.

Bastien sat, head in his lap, arms around his feet letting all the stress of the last 8 hours drip into the cold tile floor. Breath in, breath out, breath in... until the motion sensor was starved for action and all drifted away in the quiet sanitary darkness.

Bastien didn't know how long he slept,but when the lights kicked back on the tingle in his feet told him he wouldn't be able to leave until he had restored circulation to his legs. Leaning to one side, he began the process of massaging life back into his feet. You only have to face-plant once.

"How's it going?"

Bastien choked. "Good." Trying not to sound like he had just had to restart his heart. The voice was friendly, Bastien just hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Good."

His sanctuary now defiled, Bastien had to get out as soon as possible. Ugggg not a poop talker! Listening to someone else poop was bad enough without having to get to know them. Bastien stretched down to see where the poop talker was sitting but couldn't see feet on either side, well that might save his nose a few seconds.

"Don't you love how quiet it is down here?" The poop talker mused. Oh no. If Bastien didn't leave soon he'd be hearing this guy's life story.

"Best place on campus!" Bastien smirked.

"Yea. Everyone's running around like headless chickens up there, but down here time stands still."

The tell tale clakety clack of a buckle told Bastien his time was short. Soon the explosive... yep, there it was. Why public poopers always sounded like Saturn missiles launching into space he would never know.

"So what's your major?"

Basten rolled his eyes and leaned to the opposite side to start blood into his other leg. Sure he could escape by hopping, but that would be weird.

Bastien's leg burned as the circulation returned to his starved muscles. "I'm a pre-major, mechanical engineering."

"Whoa! I hear that's a tough one.I'm a psychology major, but plan on med school. Trying to get a bachelors done as quick as I can. Still, feel like I've been here forever. You married?"

Some feeling now in both feet Bastien decided to risk it. Fastening his drawers he flushed for appearance sake and stumbled to the sink to rinse his hands. "Not yet."

"Me neither. Lotta cute girls though to chose from. You can't complain there."

Drying his hands Bastien used the towel to open the door and tossed it in the bin as he left. "Have a good one!" He called, not waiting for a response. He hadn't made it to the stairs when he realized he'd left his backpack in the stall. So much for escaping unscathed, the room was sure to wreak by now.

Bastien hurried back, took a deep breath and opened the door. To his surprise the motion detector had turned off the lights again.

"Gotta watch out for these fancy lights." He called out, but there was no response. Bastien looked down the row of stalls, he crouched and looked under: every one was empty.

"Hello?"

No response.

Chills ran down Bastien's spine, there was no trace, sight sound or smell of anyone else in the room. He ducked his head into the showers just to make sure. Nothing. Not even the dripping of a faucet.

The lights kicked off again. Bastien waved his arms but the sensor couldn't see him this far back by the showers. Turning the corner he waved one arm while feeling for the stalls, his hand met the familiar cold steel doors. Still the lights didn't flicker. Feeling his way along, Bastien managed to find his stall, feel his backpack hanging on the inner hook where he left it.It was so dark! Dark and cold and clammy. Stupid automatic lights. It was silly, but he could feel himself beginning to panic. Walking quickly towards the exit now, Bastien's knee collided with the trashcan, sending it clattering. Fumbling, he reached down, righted the can and felt for its revolving lid. There it was. As Bastien's fingers closed around the plastic sides another hand closed its fingers around his. Then, breathing into his ear the voice from before whispered cheerily. "You have a good one too!"

The lights kicked on. Bastien was alone. No one else was there.