I was staying at the hostel of a university in Australia. It was my second year there as an arts student. I am easily scared, so I used to sleep with the lights on. And with good reason. I had a friend studying in a nearby university at the same time as me who is psychic and he told me once when he visited my room that he felt very uneasy there, that there was a presence. At that time I just dismissed it as mischief on his part, but the thought stuck in my mind. Maybe there was something in what he said because strange things happened to me there…
At first, it was little things, like items of clothes would go missing, usually things like undergarments. I thought it was just this Australian guy down the corridor playing pranks on me and I was very angry and scolded him for nicking my things and warned him never to go into my room when I wasn’t there. I was all more convinced when a pair of panties of mine, which were missing for a while, turned up the next day.
But other things continued to happen.
Laike sometimes I would leave a mug in one corner, leave the room and when I returned it would be in another place. Once I left the room after looking out through the window, and I was so sure I left only the right shutter open when I left the room , because I usually leave the left shutter closed to block out the sunlight. When I returned, and it wasn’t very long since I had left one closed, properly closed, latched and all.
But the worst story involving that room turned out to be something I heard about only two years after I had shifted to another hall.
You see there was this African student who lived on another floor. I think he had his eyes on me but he was always too shy to make a move. This was the same guy who would often get piss-drunk. Then, one day when I was having breakfast in the canteen – this was at the time when I was still staying in that room in the same hall of residence as the African student – he joined me at the table.
It was very strange. He hardly said anything at all but kept staring at me as he ate. I thought it more strange than rude because he was usually a very shy character around me and would never try any of this nonsense. What had got into him?
Then, many months later when I had moved to another hall, I was talking to my good friend who had risen to a senior position in the old hall where I lived in that strange room, and I brought up this incident. My friend looked very strangely at me, muttered something and stopped himself. Fortunately there was another friend of ours in the room who practically forced my friend from the old hall to tell us what it was he had started to say.
“I remember that incident,” my friend said. “ C, the African student, came to me the next day and told me everything. He said that night…he returned to the hall drunk, he was sloshed, you know him, and he went up to the wrong floor.
“He said that on that floor, your floor, he saw a girl with long hair, a very dark-looking character walking down the corridor towards your room. But when she reached your room…”
“What? What? What happened?” Both my other friend and I shouted at him, though I half didn’t want to know.
He continued, “When she reached your room, she walked right through the wall…”
I shrieked and almost fainted.
I seriously thought of leaving the country right there and then.
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