The Echoes of the Dormitory

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting long, eerie shadows over the dilapidated dormitory that sat on the edge of the college campus. It was the kind of place that gave the locals chills and whispered tales of restless spirits. Now, it was to be the home for a group of students who had chosen the dormitory for its cheap rent and its supposed charm.

Emma, a freshman psychology major, had heard the rumors but brushed them off as nothing but ghost stories. She was the type who believed in science and logic, not the supernatural. That is, until she moved in.

The dormitory was cold, with peeling paint and creaky floorboards. Emma had a small, musty room at the end of the hallway. As she unpacked, she noticed strange noises coming from the next room. A door creaked, then a faint whisper.

"Who’s there?" Emma called out, her voice trembling.

There was no answer, just the echo of her own voice in the empty space. She decided to ignore the noise and get to bed.

The next morning, as the students gathered for their first class, Emma saw a girl she recognized from the dormitory, but the girl had a strange, almost haunted look about her.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emma asked.

The girl nodded weakly. "Not really. There’s something... strange about this place."

As the week went on, the students started to notice more of the strange occurrences. A door that would open and close on its own, whispering voices, and shadows that moved too quickly to be just shadows. They spoke to one another in hushed tones, not sure what to believe.

One night, the whispers grew louder, and they heard a voice speaking their names. They were frightened but couldn't place where the voice was coming from.

"Do you hear that?" asked Sam, a biology major.

The voice was clearer this time. "You have until the next moonrise."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, her heart pounding.

"We need to find out what this place hides," Sam said. "We can’t let it kill us."

The group spent the next few nights searching the dormitory, looking for clues. They found old, faded photographs of students from the past, some with names and dates written on the back. They discovered that many of these students had disappeared without a trace.

One photograph in particular caught Emma's eye. It was of a girl who looked strikingly similar to her. Emma realized that the whispers were coming from her own past.

"We have to find out what happened to her," Emma said.

The group followed the trail of clues, leading them to an old, abandoned room. The door was locked, but the whispers grew louder, as if pulling them in.

"Please," Emma heard the voice say. "Open the door."

Emma reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. In the center stood a large, ornate mirror. As Emma approached, the mirror began to glow, and she saw her reflection... but it was the reflection of the girl in the photograph.

The girl in the mirror spoke, her voice echoing in the room. "You’re next. The game is almost over."

Emma turned around to see the other students, their faces pale and terrified. One by one, they approached the mirror, their reflections showing their past and the fates that awaited them.

When it was Sam's turn, he looked into the mirror and saw the face of his younger brother, who had disappeared without a trace years ago. Sam's eyes filled with tears, and he knew what he had to do.

"I'll stop this," Sam said, his voice breaking.

As he spoke, the mirror began to crack, and the whispers grew softer. The group escaped the room, and as they ran back to their dormitory, they felt a strange calm wash over them.

When they arrived, the dormitory was quiet, the echoes gone. They knew that the spirits were gone, but they couldn't shake the feeling that they had only delayed the inevitable.

As they went to bed that night, the whispers started up again. "You have until the next moonrise."

The group knew that the game was far from over. They had only just begun to understand the darkness that had taken root in the old dormitory. The dead were speaking, and their voices were a warning of what was to come.