Dormitory Whispers: The Haunting of Room 22

The night was as dark as the depths of the dormitory's basement, where whispers of the past clung to the cold, concrete walls. Room 22, situated on the third floor, was the dormitory's most infamous space, shrouded in a veil of silence and fear. The other students whispered about it as they passed, their voices barely audible over the clatter of lockers and footsteps on the stairs.

The new student, Alice, had always been curious about the strange aura surrounding Room 22. As she lugged her luggage up the stairs, her heart pounded against her chest with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had chosen this dormitory, she told herself, for the freedom and independence it promised, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Room 22 was watching her.

The door to Room 22 stood slightly ajar, as if inviting her in. With a deep breath, Alice pushed it open and stepped into the small room. The air was cool and stale, and the scent of old wood and dust filled her nostrils. She had been here for only a few hours, but already, she felt as if she had stepped into another world.

The room was small, with a single window looking out onto the courtyard below. A rickety desk stood in one corner, and a small, empty wardrobe stood in another. The bed, with its faded blue comforter, was in the center, and Alice could feel its silent invitation to rest.

She dropped her bags on the floor and looked around. The room was quiet, but there was a sense of something watching her. She turned, but saw no one. It was just the room, with its four walls and ceiling, and the door that had been left ajar.

Alice decided to explore further. She opened the wardrobe, finding it empty. She moved to the desk, where a stack of papers were scattered. Picking one up, she realized it was an old photograph. It was of a young woman, her eyes filled with sadness, sitting at the desk.

"Who was she?" Alice wondered aloud, but no answer came.

The next morning, Alice was greeted by the dormitory's resident assistant, Sarah. "I see you've moved into Room 22," Sarah said with a mix of concern and curiosity. "That room is... unusual," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's a story behind it, but I don't like to talk about it much."

Alice's curiosity was piqued. "What story?" she asked.

Sarah sighed, her expression turning serious. "Room 22 was once the home of a student named Emily. She was a brilliant young woman, but she had a dark secret. She was in love with another student, but her family disapproved. One night, they caught her with the man she loved. In a fit of rage, her family had her locked in Room 22 and left her there to die."

Alice's eyes widened. "Did she die?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes. She was found the next morning, but she had been there for days. Ever since then, people say they hear her whispering in the night. Some even say they've seen her, walking around the room, her eyes filled with pain."

Alice couldn't believe what she had heard. "What happened to her after that?"

Sarah shook her head. "They buried her on campus. Some say her spirit is still here, trapped between worlds."

As the days passed, Alice felt a growing sense of unease. She heard whispers at night, and felt as if she were being watched. She saw Emily's ghost, her eyes filled with sorrow, sitting at the desk. Each night, Alice felt more drawn to the room, more desperate to understand why Emily was still here.

One night, as she lay in bed, Alice couldn't shake the feeling that she had to talk to Emily. She got up, tiptoed to the desk, and sat down. She reached out and touched the cold, wooden surface. "Emily," she whispered, "I'm Alice. I want to know why you're still here. What can I do to help you?"

The room fell silent, and Alice waited. Then, she heard it—a faint whisper, so soft it could have been a breeze. "Find my heart," the whisper said.

Alice's heart raced. She knew she had to find Emily's heart. She asked Sarah for help, who led her to the old campus graveyard. There, they found a small, unmarked grave. Alice knelt down and began to dig.

Hours passed as she unearthed the remains of a wooden box. Inside, she found a locket, its contents black and twisted. She opened it, and saw a photo of Emily and the man she loved, both smiling.

Alice put the locket back into the box and buried it with Emily, along with a note. She didn't know if it would work, but she had to try.

That night, Alice awoke to a different sound—no whispers, no sadness. She sat up in bed and looked around. The room was still, and she could feel a sense of peace she hadn't known before.

Alice had helped Emily find her rest, but the experience had changed her forever. She realized that sometimes, the past needed to be buried, not just the dead. And as she closed her eyes, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders, knowing that she had done the right thing.

The dormitory was no longer haunted by the ghost of Room 22. Instead, it was filled with the laughter and joy of the students, living their lives without the shadows of the past hanging over them. Alice had found her own peace, knowing that she had made a difference.