After dark, when night settlesover Viridian Falls, the university campus feels haunted—not by ghosts, but by shadows and secrets, as though the ivy and stone carry whispers of everyone who’s passed through. The air grows heavy, soaked in the scent of rain and old earth, and windows glow like watchful eyes in the dorms above. Light from the lampposts flickers against the old brick buildings, distorting their edges until they look like they belong in memories or dreams.
Beneath it all, there’s a hum, a kind of tension that never leaves this place. It clings to the arches, the library stacks, the quiet lake beyond the fields. Something about Viridian Falls has always felt alive after dark.
Alive and waiting.
It’s not the dead that haunt Viridian Falls. It’s the living. Their guilt, their obsessions, their secrets buried just beneath the ivy.
And maybe that’s exactly why I like it here at night.
Because it’s not my own shadows or secrets that haunt this place. In that borrowed quiet, the campus becomes a mirror that tilts outward instead of back at me.
That’s also why I always try to schedule at least one eveningclass every semester. There’s something comforting about being here when the halls are almost empty and the only light comes from the streetlamps outside.
However, right now, I’m almost regretting it. It’s the first day of the fall semester, and I’m exhausted but not ready to drag myself home. My girlfriend and I had another argument last night, so I’m dreading the idea of walking into our apartment, seeing her face, pretending everything’s fine. We’re both just so stressed going into our last year as undergrads. I’m sure if we can make it past graduation, we’ll be okay.
Instead of heading home after my last class, I’ve spent the past half hour in the library. It’s barely eight o’clock, and I’m already getting kicked out.
Sometimes I wish I had gone to a bigger university in a larger city, one where the library lights never go out. But Viridian Falls is all I’ve ever known. My decision was also made for me when my father said he would only pay all four years of my tuition if I went to school here, to the university where four generations of Ellises before me went.
At least that deal was firmly in place when I changed my major from political science to English literature. He didn’t appreciate my decision, and I understand since I might’ve done it partly out of an act of rebellion.
I could still follow the path he wanted for me, but I won’t.
Like hell I’m going to follow in his footsteps and be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m sure it’s just him and notalllawyers, but I’m not taking that chance.
Since I might be trying to wait as late as I can—until Molly is too tired to start yet another fight—I walk across the dark campus toward the Old Main building where most of my classes are this semester. Any students left roaming about are heading toward their cars, leaving me alone to navigate the shadows.
When I get to the oldest building on campus, the air feels heavier, dustier, like old paper and rain-soaked mortar. Old Main looms above me, a relic from the past. Its tall, arched windows glint from the dim lights remaining inside, and ivy crawls up the weathered, reddish brick like a spider’s web.
I walk up the steps to the big oak double doors, not really expecting them to budge. But when I pull, the latch gives with a soft click. The sound echoes through the empty hall beyond. I glance over my shoulder to see no one around, just the whisper of leaves swirling across the ground of the courtyard.
Pushing the door open wider, I step into the dark hallway.
The building breathes out the familiar scent of wet stone and aged wood as my footsteps echo off its walls. The eyes of past students and faculty trapped within sepia photos inside display cases follow me, judging me for being here this late.
When I reach the closest lecture hall, I try the door, finding it unlocked too. I choose one of the three light switches beside the door, and the overhead lights at the front of the room flicker on, keeping the rest of the lecture hall lingering in the dark.
Quiet. Empty. The perfect place to disappear for a while.
Settling into a chair in the top row of the stadium seating at the back of the room, I take out my folder of syllabuses from my bag that I got today. I already went through one, but I have two more. During the first couple days of classes, I always go through them carefully and write down all the due dates in my planner.
I like school. Sue me.
My dad would probably take the case.
Pulling out a pen, I start copying things down, enjoying the silence besides the scratching of ink on paper. It’s different from the one waiting at home. Less dreadful, less suffocating. It also helps to have something to keep my hands busy.
After a few minutes, the tension in my chest starts to fade.
Then it comes rushing back at the soft click of the door behind me.
The sound is small, but in the empty room, it’s sharp and piercing. My pen freezes above the page.
Footsteps follow, slow and measured, tapping against the hardwood floor. My heart is in my throat, pounding away. It’s not until the steps get closer and then stop that I finally turn my head to peer over my shoulder.
It’s Professor Kendall.
One of the shadows of Viridian Falls University.
