Missed Call
After getting back to my dorm from class a little later than normal, I was startled to see my roommate standing right in the doorway as I opened the door. “Holy shikes, you scared the living poop out of me,” I had screamed. She snarkily responded by exclaiming that poop is not a living organism, however she reminded me of the Halloween Bash going on that night and asked if I was still going. I told her to go ahead without me since I needed to get ready anyway.
Almost immediately, as my roommate had departed, there was a knock at the door; my friend, Stacey, was waiting for me on the other side. With little time to prepare, I quickly threw on my Elsa costume to meet with her. We rushed out so we wouldn’t miss the band perform Rocky Horror’s “Time Warp.”
A few drinks later, I checked my pockets and realized I had lost my phone. I frantically looked around for my phone, checking the bathrooms and the bar, but to no success. Stacey lent me her phone to call it. After three rings, someone answered with a light humming and a raspy giggle before hanging up. I called multiple times again afterward, but no answer. It was a lost cause and I gave up.
When I returned home, I saw my phone. It was sitting right on my dresser where I had left it.
Anthony Motroni, sophomore, exploratory studies
Don’t Turn Around
I quickened my pace. I had left too late; they had warned me. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the street lights passed by more rapidly. I finally gave into fear as I took one final glance over my shoulder. He was only half lit, his features unrecognizable except for the tube of his mask that swayed back and forth out of the light. I sprinted toward my house. My blood froze in my veins as I turned the bolt, the silhouette of the man visible in the center of the street. Sprinting up the stairs the door burst open and I dove under my bed. The house grew quiet. I slowed my breathing as best I could and held my mouth with my hand. I froze as I heard the softest of creaking in the stairway. Why hadn’t I shut the door? The man’s heavy breath amplified by his mask brought forth a scream I could barely keep at bay. His feet now inches from my face stopped, torn toenails covered in dried blood. My blood pounded in my ears like a drum I was sure he would hear. With a bang as loud as a cannon he dropped to the floor screaming, cursed breath spilling from his mask he dragged me from underneath and everything went black… Now I could see them. The person quickening their pace in the scattered light… Just don’t turn around.
Logan Labo, freshman, graphic design
Working for the Weekend
It’s amazing how little you get done when there is so much to do. I’m supposed to be doing fourth-quarter budget reports. But for some reason, everything else is infinitely more interesting than incomes and expenditures. The coffee drips lazily onto the heating pad below. I stare at my own “employee of the month” mug; a layer of oil at the top refracts the fluorescent light from above. Those supposedly energy-saving bulbs buzz incessantly. Their atonal hymn mixes discordantly with the intermittent loud typing coming from Jake in marketing. I say hello to the guy every day, but all I know about him is that he likes watching sports. I guess we have that in common, but what do I know.
God, it’s hot in here. I pull at my collar to prevent my polyester tie and the humid heat from choking me. Maybe I’m just blaming my suffocation on those. My high school counselor said I was good at math, so I should go into accounting. I can’t believe I took her advice.
This is my life. Each second, day, week blinks by. And what do I have to show for it? A stained mug and a $60,000-per-year job. Not bad. Maybe next year I’ll get a promotion, but they’ll be giving that raise to a zombie.
Gabe DeCaro, senior, nuclear engineering
