Oct 11^th.  3 PM. Jeff Engelhardt’s Philosophy Class. Something’s wrong. Your fellow students at Siena Heights University have been acting strange the past few days. A peculiar number of students are missing class. Engelhardt seems paranoid, intently watching his computer screen. Class started ten minutes ago, why isn’t he teaching? He’s hiding something. He knows what’s happening.

“Class dismissed. Hurry back to your dorm, lock the door, and turn on the news. Good luck to you all, maybe I’ll see you around,” says Engelhardt, and he quickly walks away.

What does he mean? Is this some kind of joke? You run outside the door, but he’s gone. Looking back, you notice the other students haven’t moved. They wear a listless expression, dazing off as if they are in a trance.

Oct 11^th. 4 PM. Ledwidge Hall. Slamming the door behind you, you snatch the remote and sit in front of the television. Engelhardt’s words echo through your head. Taking a deep breath, you press the power button. Static. Just Static. Every channel.

Tap tap tap. Ignoring the sound, you continue searching through the channels, zoned out from all reality. The tapping grows stronger, developing into a knock. A knock! It’s the door! You peer through the peephole, making out the face of your roommate.

Opening the door, you ask if he’s all right. “Just tired, I’m going to lie down for a bit,” he replies, tripping onto the floor. You help him up and notice his skin is cool to the touch, and unusually pale. He falls into a deep sleep as soon as he lies down, breaking into cold sweats soon after. Growing tired, you decided to join him in sleep, and climb onto the top bunk.

Oct 11^th. 8 PM. Inside of your dorm. You wake up to your roommate shifting around in their bed. Trying to ignore them, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Nightmares race through your unconscious state:

You’re sprinting through the forest. Slender Man is at your heels. A tree emerges from the fog, and you scurry up it like a squirrel. A hand tightens around your ankle. It won’t let go. You struggle to break free, but the pain grows.

The sound of your skull cracking on the ground abruptly awakens you.

It’s too dark to see. You scramble to get your phone out of your pocket, and turn the flashlight on, revealing your roommates lifeless complexion. Time slows to a crawl as adrenaline rushes through your veins. You struggle for the door, but your roommate has a death-grip on your ankle. “Is he trying to bite me?” you frantically ask your self. Flailing your arms and legs about, you manage to break his grip and wiggle free.

You reach the door, but to your horror, it won’t open. Blinded by the moment, you jerk on the door until it feels like your arms are going to rip out of their sockets. Your roommate crawls to his feet and makes his way towards you; it looks like he is moving in slow motion. Finally you remember you locked it, and a wall of relief strikes you as the door opens. The door slams behind you, quicker then it opened. You can hear your roommate pawing at the door. He’s after you.

Oct 11^th.  8:30 PM. Ledwidge fourth floor. Faint moans travel through the halls. There are more of them, whatever they are.

The elevator isn’t working. Time to take the stairs; you’re starting to regret the freshman 15. On the way down, you hear blood-curdling screams and open the door to the second floor.

Petrified, you see these things hovering over a squirming body. 18 years of zombie movies race through your bewildered mind. This must still be a dream. It can’t be possible, can it?