Seattle University - Aegis Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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THE ECHO At last, however, the car started to slow down and finally came to a dead stop. “That's it. keep your eyes closed for a while yet. not very much longer now: I'll take your arm and lead you.'' “Scott, don’t you think it’s the right time to quit this clever stuff? I’m beginning to get fed up on it—your bright idea is just about worn out. You must have kind of a perverted sense of humor, it seems to me.” “Now don’t get cranky, it’s just a minute more, we’re right there.” Stepping out from the warm car. the blasts of wind brought with them a cutting chill. The eerie whistle of raindrops and the minor moan of the wind was a fitting prelude to the scene which presented itself to Tom when he first opened his eyes. Scott had lead him up what seemed an unending flight of steps, opened a door, closed it after them, brought him forward several feet around a number of turns. “All right, little one, lift your lashes.” Tom gazed about rather blankly at first, then the objects about him began to take shape. He could discern that he was standing in what seemed a long, narrow hall, one end of which was enclosed in drapes through which he could see a large room. The hall itself and its other termination were inky black: he was able to make out no details. The ceiling loomed high above them but was concealed in gloom. “Well, are we here?” he inquired. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were, but keep quiet and follow me.” They made their way gropingly along the passage until before them through the drapes was the tremendously large room. “Here, you mustn’t step out there nor let yourself be seen.” warned Scott. “We can observe everything that goes on from here.” The room was unusual in more ways than one. First of all, it had only three sides. Where should have been a fourth wall was only immense space totally dark. The room was flooded with a peculiar gray blue light whose source was not visible, seeming to emanate from the enormous beams above. It was furnished with decayed furniture and the curtains and 29

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“A little waiting’ll do you good, returned 'Torn. T hey stepped out into the night. The car gleamed under the street light. The wind howled desolately around the corners of buildings. “Just the night a ghost would like.” said Torn. “It provides a perfect atmosphere and ought to make him feel at home. Go ahead, bring on your spook, I’ll treat him right. “Hurry up.” broke in Scott, “and we ll be off, but first remember what I told you. close the optics. “What. almost shouted the other, “you mean to say you really meant that? “Now for the last time, answered Scott. I repeat what I said. I know you think I’ve been kidding you right along, but you agreed to do what I said. Of course if you’re getting a big thrill out of it, I’ll be an obedient little boy. But when you let your sense of the theatrical run away with you, you get rather tiresome after a while. Well, here goes. He shut his two dark eyes. “That’s a nice little fellow. cooed Scott, always mind papa. The car plunged forward into the darkness. All Tom heard for the next fifteen minutes was the steady purr of the engine and at irregular intervals the harsh grating of street cars, then again the peculiar silence of the night. T hey had been going in this manner for what seemed to T om an extreme length of time but was in reality only a comparatively short space when he was suddenly brought up with a sharp bang, sounding very close. “What's that? he inquired. Keep your l’il eyes shut tight, it isn’t anything: two old busses bumped into each other, nobody hurt. Say there, didn’t I see you open one eye. Be good or papa spank. admonished Scott. “Boy, but don’t you get a lot of enjoyment out of your own line. “We'll be getting there pretty soon. said Scott, only about five minutes more. The five minutes went by slowly to Tom: by this time Scott’s idea was proving monotonous, sad. 28

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THE ECHO hangings were tattered and yellow with age, and yet the whole scene bore a startling air of unreality. So did the one person who stood in the back of the room, staring pensively out through a grilled window into the ebony night. She was very much blonde, too yellow hair of doubtful authenticity hanging over her shoulders in unnatural waves, intensely black eyebrows and lashes framing light blue eyes, and a vacuous, vapid expression on her chubby face and pouting lips. Her age?— from a distance it was one thing and close up it was another. Making impossible, meaningless gestures with her long arms, her face assumed an expression of horror and altogether she gave the impression of a middle aged moron pirrouetting and posing before some invisible mirror. 1'om clapped his hand to his head and gave a wail of anguish. 'So you took me all the way from my happy home and brought me here to see this? Oh, this is too much!” Wait just a minute,” said Scott soothingly, “the ghost is due pretty soon. It’s almost twelve.” Why, it can’t be that,” interjected Tom. It’s only about eleven.” Look at the clock.” said Scott. T hen T om noticed for the first time on the right side of the room a massive clock. And sure enough it registered but three minutes of twelve. Their attention was soon drawn, however, to the unaccountable actions of the blonde. She began pacing back and forth and her walk was not ungraceful, then after casting her eyes into the air she would bow her head dejectedly. Suddenly she stood still, raised her arms and eyebrows and uttered a low, throaty wail. “What do you think of her?” inquired Scott. Oh.” answered Tom, T suppose she doesn’t know any better, but don’t you think she ought to be educated?” Just then they were interrupted by the clock’s announcing the hour of midnight. In clear, solemn tones it struck, one— two—three—relentlessly on it went and carried with it somehow a seemingly ominous and foreboding undertone, ten— eleven—twelve. With the last stroke the woman gave vent to a high pitched, carsplitting, blood curdling scream: she appeared ” 0