[TTally]

She was crouched down in her room, shrouded in a blue orb. Her green eyes were closed gently against the wind that buffered her clothes and spun her hair around her neck and shoulders. The light danced off various objects in her room not unlike that the reflecting pond outside her dorm did to the statue of Soldier during the day. Ribbons of white mixed with the pale teal colours that danced off her book shelves, bed, and computer; seemingly searching for something lost in the small, untidy room.


Socks discarded on the floor around the girl’s feet were filled with this light; an open magazine was flipping back and forth between covers. Still she sat, uncaring in the middle of the floor on her legs. Her arms hugged herself as the wind within the globe surrounding her grew outward tearing a small lock of hair from her head. The lock of hair separated like a grenade in their new found freedom; a flash of red. The girl’s eyes flew open just as the orb overtook the whole room.


The magazine stopped in mid-flip, the hairs halted their decent on her furniture. In this state she could move around freely- not fearing anything from her possible threat. What kind of threat though? It was Pennsylvania- everyone here was a coal miner or historian not a diplomat or movie star. No stalkers, no kidnapping schemes.


Just good old, primal, normal day people- dead or alive. She lived in Gettysburg, and attended Gettysburg College; lived in Steven’s Hall. The Blue Boy had been haunting her for weeks now. Ever since she first stepped onto the campus she knew something was different. She felt watched, cold, on the verge of tears. She would run back to her dorm before lights out, eyes fixed ahead at the round handle. The other students living nearby could set their watches by listening to the hard slam of the door as she threw herself on it.


On the internet she found help in the guise of a classroom forum. A few fellow Wiccan’s had been lurking around and noticed her question of, “Is the campus really haunted?” They told her stories that made it impossible for Addison to go to sleep. Most sounded just absurd- like the one about two staff that went to the basement and saw a full field hospital from a hundred years ago.


Apparently the elevator went to the basement floor one night when two male teachers were attempting to leave in the 1980’s. When the ding sounded and the doors opened, what they knew to be an area for storage was now filled with doctors and nurses running around treating wounded soldiers. In on far corner was a pile of limbs oozing blood, in another bodies covered in thin white sheets were carelessly tossed. They ran and alerted the guard- who found nothing.


Other’s though, like the Blue Boy . . . made her act the way she did. Her light’s were never on (they could see you that way) and her doors never locked (easier to run). When going up stairs she ran wind milling her arms behind her to ward off imaginary attackers. Most nights she would sit at her desk letting the severe light from her monitor illuminate her hallowed face. Her green eyes had become dull; her hair fell in vines of red mats across her shoulders. Her lips were cracked and hung half open.


The Blue Boy haunted her without rest. The other witch’s told her he was harmless, to stop worrying. A few even offered to let her sleep in their room or switch completely, but she declined every time. He might follow her. He might get angry at her for running, and hurt her. No, she couldn’t leave. She had to cope with the fact she was his new mother until the winter finally came and she could drop out- go home! She had to at least pretend to be strong.


That’s when she got the idea to put a barrier around herself and her room every night. She would gather her wits and sit on her floor and call upon the Gods and Goddess’. “Divine Goddess, Goddess Divine, Divine God, God Divine, if evil dwells within this place, please make it leave my space!” The spell would then manifest inside her as a blue ray, and cast itself around her entire room. She knew it worked when the fatigue and dread lifted off her as if made of small winged insects.


She had been doing it for five nights now, (or was it six?) and hadn’t seen the small, frozen boy yet. No more hearing his moans in the night, waiting for the all clear signal from the older college girls as he sat on the window ledge. No more sickening thuds as a body froze and fell four stories. No more guilt as the boy would cry asking her why she didn’t save him.


Addison flopped down on her back. Her red hair spilled out around her like a pool of blood. The white T-Shirt she was wearing rose up to expose a tan stomach with a small birth mark on her side that wound its way around to her back. A hand quickly, hastily grabbed the shirt and pulled it down then stopped, feeling the mark with her fingers. The hand was not hers.


She screamed.