We, apparently, won't have to sleep in a small closet somewhere inside the Westray's Historical Archive, because mere seconds after Ethan suggests that idea, our cramped little room goes pitch black. Even while being fully aware this was going to be the outcome of the day, I still gasp, bumping my arm against his as I try to reach for the door in the search for some sort of light.
A hand grabs mine in the dark, which honestly is terrifying, but I won't let Ethan know that.
"Shh, even if they can't see us they'll hear if you storm out."
"Who, the ghosts?" I hiss back.
"Oh," he sounds like he's trying to hold back a laugh, "of course, considering half of the things here are probably haunted already, don't try your luck, Sol."
Look, I'm atheist-sh as hell (and yes I recognize the irony of that statement), but I was raised Roman Catholic and did my communion and heard the droning sermons at mass, so the idea of ghosts, demons, and possessions has been ingrained in my mind since I was young. I can't help but feel squeamish when presented with old dolls and things that might hold the spirit of a creepy child or whatever.
Hence Ethan's sarcastic statement brings me no amusement, and he seems to notice it in the air.
"You know I'm kidding right?" He asks, his hand leaving mine and grasping the doorknob.
"If you get possessed I ain't saving you. I could, I've watched Supernatural," I move past him and into the dark hallway, "just thought I'd let you know that."
The hall is darker than most of my jokes, so I take out my phone and higher the brightness as much as possible, I'm not crazy enough to turn on the flashlight since any guard would make a bee dive for that.
"We should have gone full-on Strange Encounters and brought night vision goggles and all," I say, walking slowly through the hall, I know the tower is in a connection a floor higher or so by the stairs we took to the second floor, but it is possible that someone might be checking around there.
"We don't have the money or the time, let's move on." He walks ahead of me, finding the staircase we climbed before and surreptitiously making his way up. I follow, glancing behind me as we go, the feeling of someone or something watching us leaving a chill against the back of my neck.
Large buildings like this, old buildings like this, seem to carry a spirit of their own as if the halls themselves are filled with memories and the like. Someone could be standing at the end of the hall, watching us in the darkness, not a security officer, someone else, and I would never know.
"Sol, let's go, we're losing time."
"Fuck," I whisper, shaking my head, "Yeah, sorry, got distracted."
YOU ARE READING
Historically Inaccurate ✓Humor
In an attempt to improve her resume, history major Soledad Gutierrez, or Sol to her friends (because that's less depressing), decides to join the History Club at her Community college. However, the club at her school is quite peculiar: they have an...