(Need a refresher? CLICK HERE!)

Wells College

“So, let me get this straight,” Thomas Porter says while he waits for Apollo to finish getting dressed. Thumbing through one of his many books on bar-tending, the tall and lanky sophomore tries his best not to chuckle at his own thoughts. “You were in a class about mythology, which makes no sense for a meteorology major. This teacher doesn’t want you to fall asleep and you keep drawing a picture. After a few questions that get other students killed, she just starts wiping everyone out. You finally realize you’re in danger, run to the door, and she bites your head off like a praying mantis. There was also some message that starts with ‘never any’. Only one question I have to ask, man. How hot was this dream teacher? I mean, give me some details, so I can look for her when I go to sleep.”

“You ask that every time I wake up screaming and describe my dream,” Apollo groans while he hunts for his missing belt. Finding it under his bed, he holds it out to show his friend the dust bunnies that have gathered on the cracked leather. “I swear, we cleaned the room three days ago and these things keep coming back. Starting to wonder if they’re really alive and multiplying in here. By the way, did you finally pick a major or have you found another way to delay that decision?”

With a tired groan, Thomas gets off his bed and goes to the mirror, his green eyes looking sharper thanks to new contacts. “I still have a month to figure things out. My goal is to run a successful bar, so I need to figure out the right major. There are so many things to consider that I have to be careful. Sure, business major seems to make the most sense, but is that really the way for me to go?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Like I’m going to take that from a guy who can get everything wrong and not get fired.”

“Oh, those weatherman jokes never get old.”

“Hey, did you say that one of the people in your dream was electrocuted?”

“I think so. It’s kind of blurry now.”

“Well, I heard a girl died last night when someone threw a curling iron into her shower.”

“That is so not true,” Apollo says, throwing his pillow at Thomas. Watching it bounce off his stone-faced friend, he worries and takes a seat on his bed. “Geez, I never considered that happening. Still, why would a dream I’ve had for years connect to a death now? Unless it always has and I never heard about it. Maybe I sensed it happening and merged it into my dream. With it being around all the ridiculous ones, I’d never know the difference.”

Apollo stops talking when he hears a brief chuckle from Thomas, his friend practically shaking from his restrained laughter. Realizing he has been tricked, the red-faced young man gets his pillow back and tries to hit his roommate again. Thomas is quick to get out of the way and grabs his jacket as he runs out the door. Apollo is right on his heels as the chase goes down the hallway and into the lobby. Several students in the lounge stop what they are doing to watch the welcomed distraction, all of them familiar with the roommates’ antics. A few people cheer as the pair run around a table, leap over a chair, nearly knock over the resident advisor, and charge out the open door. People laugh at the sight of Apollo and Thomas in the snow, one of them without his shoes and the other without a jacket. Like two chastised children, they trudge back inside to applause and take a bow before returning to their room.

“That wasn’t funny,” Apollo mutters as he changes into a dry shirt. He tosses Thomas a pair of socks, which he keeps near the heating vent. “It was a really weird and vivid dream. Since I’ve had it for years, I assume it has to mean something. You’re pretty good at figuring out puzzles. Not to mention a bartender has to learn how to listen to customers and give advice when asked. What do you think?”

“Pretty sure bartenders don’t act like NPC’s in a video game. At least not since the invention of electricity and indoor plumbing,” Thomas replies while drying his feet. Seeing the pained expression on his roommate’s face, he sighs and leans back in his chair. “I have no idea. There are so many factors and I’ve never read up on dream deciphering. I would need some time. Off the top of my head, you seem distracted and unsure of your path, which is why you focus on a drawing and have trouble answering questions. This Mrs. Addison is probably an amalgamation of several teachers that have inspired you over the years. Since you’re the type to take things so seriously, you probably worry that you’ll let them down.”

Putting on his jacket and hat, Apollo nods his head while he thinks. “That makes sense to me. Beats Aurora’s theory that I’m crazy. Not sure why she doesn’t say the same about herself since she has the dream too. Yes, we’re weird and no you can’t date her. I forbid it and remind you that kissing my twin sister would be like kissing me. Just keep thinking about that whenever you get the urge to flirt with her.”

“I’ll be a proper, uninterested gentleman,” the long-haired student declares before taking a fake rose and half a box of chocolates out of his bag. Double-checking his feet, Thomas grabs a scarf and holds the door open for his friend. “We need to stop goofing off and get to the club meeting. Jennifer sent a text about Bryce coming back. Probably a good idea for us to get there before Harvey and Chris open their mouths. Not sure if the curious one or the teasing one will piss her off first.”

“Wait, what does that make you?”

“The one whose roommate needs to start having sex dreams instead of freaky massacre dreams.”

Apollo misses his kick when Thomas darts into the hallway and runs away with his arms held up in victory. Locking the door, the young man jumps when he touches the handle and a static shock zaps his fingers. Shaking his hand, he freezes at the realization that the dorm has become very quiet. Fearing that he is asleep again, Apollo reaches up to pinch his cheek, but stops when he hears someone yelling from the lobby. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurries to catch up to Thomas, who is already outside and waiting with a snowball. The friends stare at each other through the door until the projectile is dropped and they silently agree to a temporary truce.

(Missed the previous installment? CLICK HERE!)

Albion State Normal School

Apollo Chambers is jolted awake by his teacher smacking his desk with her ruler, the wood nearly cracking from the impact. Taking a sip of water from the pink thermos next to him, the young man tries to remember when he got to class. He looks around the room and has trouble focusing on his surroundings until he sneezes. Posters of gods are on the walls that have been painted a sterile white until being carpeted a foot from the tiled floor. A marble statue is standing at the front of the classroom, its armless torso positioned so that it appears to be looking over its shoulder. Apollo scratches his head while flipping through his notebook, which is filled with incomprehensible jargon. He glances up to make sure his teacher is not watching him before making a quick sketch in the margin. The black-haired student focuses too much on the horned bird that he is creating, so he never notices the shadow that falls over him.

“Pay attention, Mr. Chambers!” his professor angrily shouts, smacking his desk with her giant ruler. Leaning over the young man, she smiles and lets some of her brown hair fall on his hand. “You are my favorite student, but that will not get you out of trouble every time. We have the final coming up and that’s two hundred percent of your grade. You don’t want me to send you back to high school if you fail. Now, tell me about the two-faced god.”

“I know the answer, Mrs. Addison!” a young woman hollers from the front. Her pig tails wave in the air instead of her hands, calling the grinning professor over. “Janus was a Roman God with no Greek counterpart. He presides over beginnings, gates, doorways, time, and transitions. Janus has two faces because he looks to the future and past. Some say he also presided over war and peace. Personally, I-”

“Thank you, whoever, but you spoke out of turn,” the teacher states before hitting the student in the head with the ruler. The young woman shatters into pieces that melt into the carpet and sprout into twisting lilies. “How many times must I tell all of you that speaking out of turn is a punishable offense? Now, I have to make a bouquet to send to her parents. I swear, you have to be the dumbest students I have ever had. Unless you like my punishments, which I take as a compliment. I’m truly gifted in that regard. Now, what about Morpheus? Who can tell me about him?”

The marble statue shakes and tries to turn around, which draws the professor to her own desk. Apollo takes advantage of the distraction to finish his sketch and add enough details to make it appear real. He can feel his mind wandering as the tiny creature abruptly rises from the page and wanders around his notebook. Even though he knows he is falling asleep, he cannot stop himself and lets the looming dream take over. Apollo smiles at the way the horned raven pecks at the gibberish he calls his notes and straightens the mess into words. It only gets two words into a phrase when the ruler comes down to crush the tiny animal into a splatter of black ink.

“Unicorn or raven. Never combine the two or you will have to finish the semester without any pants,” Mrs. Addison states, a golden glint in her eye. Without warning she leaps to her desk and stands with her ruler above a set of buttons. “Sudden death pop quiz! Mr. Carmicheal, please answer the previous question.”

“Morpheus is the god of sleep and-” a slow-talking boy says before a button is pushed. He is electrocuted in his seat, which bursts into flames and topples over.

“Wrong! Tell me, Ms. Victoria, who is the oldest deity in the Mesopotamian pantheon?”

“We’re still on Greek and Roman!” the girl argues, a ceiling panel flying down to smash her into a pancake.

“I demand to know the only goddess to come out of modern America! Tell me, Captain Blunderbuss!”

An old man in the corner with a pith helmet and a mop merely shrugs before a clawed hand erupts from his water bucket. The giant paw grabs the janitor and crushes him into paste, which is lapped up by a tongue that comes out of the monster’s wrist. Mrs. Addison whistles to stop the creature from eating and glares until it whines like a puppy. As the hand sinks back into the bucket, the professor begins smacking at the other buttons. Students are slaughtered in every direction, none of them looking shocked or putting up any resistance. A few smile and wave an instant before they are murdered, each one dying in a grotesque and unique way. When a glitter-covered cheerleader’s chest is crushed by her sports bra tightening and shrinking, Mrs. Addison frowns and hits the button again. The student reappears only to be killed when she pops her gum and her head explodes instead.

Unable to move, Apollo sits in the middle of the carnage and works on a new sketch. He does not look up until everything is silent and the rest of the class has been killed. For the first time since he woke up, the young man begins to feel afraid. Sweat trickles down his face and he gets the sense that he is being hunted. Looking around, he cannot see anyone else in the room, including Mrs. Addison. The statue remains behind the teacher’s desk, its marble skin splattered with blood that drip in a way to give the illusion of arms. Apollo slowly gets to his feet and steps over a student who has been melted into a pool of ooze. Going around the corpses, all he can think about is escaping the classroom. He stops when the water bucket in his path bubbles, the memory of the clawed hand making his heart race. Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he tries to sprint for the exit, but finds that he is not running any faster than he was walking. No matter how hard he pushes his muscles, Apollo cannot get his body to move at more than a terrifying crawl. It feels like it takes hours to reach the door, which falls off its hinges when he throws it open.

“Such a disappointment,” Mrs. Addison sighs from the other side. Her mouth extends to the floor, allowing her to quickly bite Apollo’s head clean off his shoulders. “Not quite ripe yet. I guess we’ll have to meet again another day.”

(Check out the previous section here.)

Notre Dame

Trina tries not to giggle as Bryce kisses her to deliver a fourth shot of whiskey, the tipsy girls having claimed a corner of the room for themselves. Curled up with each other on a large beanbag chair that reeks of beer, they ignore the drunken guys that stare at them. At first, they would wave at the leering faces, but an hour of being asked if they were interested in a threesome by men and women has made them more reclusive. Wearing jeans and nude-colored shirts that mark them as first and second place winners, Bryce and Trina enjoy being warm and covered. The rest of the party is nothing more than background noise, which a panicky young man is desperately trying to keep down to a mild roar. Playfully whispering to each other, the couple reach for their final shot and take it by clumsily twisting their arms together. Most of their drinks get on their shirts, but they are more upset about the wasted alcohol than the damp clothing.

“You go get another few rounds,” Trina slurs as she rolls off the beanbag chair. She uses the wall to get up before helping Bryce stand, the pair sharing a short kiss before stumbling away. “I have to go the bathroom. Drank a lot of water before the race. Meet you back here as soon as I’m done. Get some tequila this time.”

“Shouldn’t we go back to the room?” Bryce asks with a lazy smile. Her eyes begin to close, but she shakes herself awake. “I know we don’t have classes tomorrow, but I wanted to hit the gym for a little cardio. Then again, I’ll be lucky if I can walk in the morning. I can get us a bottle and we can have a private party back in our place.”

“Sorry, but we can’t afford to get in trouble again. I’m sure both of us would be expelled for the noise alone,” the smiling freshman says while crossing her legs. Seeing someone else heading for the bathroom, she lets out a whimper and emphatically nods her head. “Fine, we’ll risk a third strike, but we have to be quiet this time. Now, let me go pee before I have an accident.”

Nearly shoving people out of her way, Trina rushes to the bathroom while keeping an eye on the other girl. She guesses her opponent for the toilet is a sorority pledge with the way she is repeatedly stopped to chant something. Even with the delays, the cheering girl is nearly at the door by the time Trina gets around a group of boys singing a common drinking song. With a growl of determination, she barrels through a barely clothed couple and grabs the doorknob, her butt flicking to the side to knock her enemy away. A few people move to catch the defeated drunk, who is cursing at the top of her lungs and unwittingly showing that she no longer needs the bathroom. Trina feels a pang of guilt as she closes the door and locks it before scrambling to the toilet. With a sigh, she relaxes and grabs a can of air freshener to read, the words partially blurred by her faltering vision.

A cold breeze runs up the tired girl’s spine and she practically jumps to her feet before realizing that the window is open two inches. She considers closing it, but stops when she catches sight of the lake. Memories of the dancer flood her mind and she anxiously looks for any sign of the mysterious woman. For a brief moment, she swears there is a horse standing in the shadow of a tree, but the silhouette is gone after a few blinks. Leaning closer to the window, Trina jumps back when a raven lands on the sill and silently stares at her. The bird’s unblinking gaze makes her uncomfortable, a feeling that is made worse when it manages to push the window further open. Opening the air freshener, she sprays the animal and drives it away, many more joining it in the air as they leave the trees.

Trina continues watching for the birds while she finishes up, her hands fumbling with her belt. A bang on the door snaps her out of her trance, but she can only manage a slurred reply that is met with another impact. Clearing her throat, the young woman goes to wash her hands and checks herself in the mirror. Her stomach gurgles and tightens, forcing her to cling to the edge of the sink. She coughs and fights back the urge to throw up, the taste of sweet alcohol rising from her gut. Trina spits up some of the whiskey and watches it go down the drain, the red tint making her swear to never order cinnamon-flavored drinks again. Hearing another loud bang on the door, she opens her mouth to shout back, but a flash of heat through her body nearly causes her to pass out.

Needing more air, Trina lurches to the window and throws it open, which attracts a pair of ravens. The birds remain on the ground where she cannot spray them and they refuse to move no matter how much she yells. She sucks in a big gulp in the hopes of clearing her head, but instead she spews alcohol and her dinner into the grass. More ravens land on the branches while the first two bravely fly onto the sill, their beaks mere inches from Trina’s dilated eyes. She is about to wave the animals away when a fresh bout of nausea causes her to throw up again. Not wanting to be seen, she covers her mouth with her hands and hurries to the toilet. The panicking freshman is vaguely aware of the birds entering the bathroom and surrounding her while she continues to vomit. A voice in her head screams that something is not right, a thought that becomes stronger when blood begins coming out of her mouth. No matter how hard she tries, Trina cannot stop herself and the last thing she sees is the dancer reflected in the metal toilet handle.

(Here we go!  The third installment of the Dawn Addison/Raven Series.  For anyone who is curious about what happened earlier, here is a link to the finale of Raven’s Game.)

Yahoo Image Search

Standing on the outskirts of the pack, Trina pulls her large coat around her body and bounces on her toes. Her breath comes out in puffs, the freezing upstate New York air more bitter than she ever imagined. The college freshman begins to question why she came so far north for school, but the sight of two attractive sophomores eyeing her makes the young woman forget her worries. Not being a pledge, Trina stands out from many of the other girls because she has no Greek letters on her face or streaks in her hair. If it was not for losing a billiard game to her roommate, she would probably have remained inside. Instead, she is standing at the western point of campus in front of an already chuckling crowd. Feeling the icy chill nip at her nose, the black-haired student waves to another girl who walks over with a tray of shots. With a shivering hand, she takes one of the drinks and downs it to feel a burning that runs down to her belly. It is only after Trina is done that she considers alcohol might not be the best thing to have before going through with the challenge.

A sharp whistle silences all the runners and they turn to where a couple are standing up ahead. The man and woman look warm in their winter clothing, but their exposed hands still shiver as they grip their trashcan lids. When another whistle goes off, they slam the metal lids together and hurry to the side of the road. All the runners scramble to strip completely naked and begin the yearly winter streak that will take them across campus. Cheers from the crowd see them off, those in the middle of the pack feeling more comfortable than those on the edge. Only those that are completely drunk show off with a small dance before rushing to catch up to the others.

Being totally exposed, Trina does her best to shield herself while following the rest of the group. The only thing that prevents her from falling behind is that she did track in high school and still runs every morning. Even though she has only been on campus for a few months, she knows the route along the lake. It is a smart decision since it puts the streaking students behind the dorms and shields them from view. The only way they will get in trouble is if one of the many people looking out the windows or hanging out by the water calls security. A realization that she could be arrested drives Trina to run faster, but the darkness and bumpy ground make it difficult to build up speed. It does not help that some of her fellow runners are beginning to get a little too grabby, which forces her to move further away from them.

“Hi, I’m Bryce Hall,” a blonde-haired woman says as she gets closer to Trina. She smiles as the other student stares at her toned body, but the friendly expression quickly turns to a blushing frown. “Can you keep a secret? Nobody will hear us over here. I’m cheating. Put some pasties and a flesh-colored, side-tied thong on once we got into the trees. I’ll take them off as we get close to the end though. You don’t look like you’re pledging either.”

“Isn’t there a dorm named Bryce Hall?” Trina asks, immediately regretting her question. She notices how tense her new running partner gets and reaches out to give a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Sorry about that. I guess you get that a lot. I’m Trina Marks and I lost a bet. Didn’t think my cruel roommate would pick this as my dare. I was only going to have her eat an entire pint of ice cream since she’s always trying to stay in shape. It wouldn’t be the first time I saw her cheat that badly on her diet anyway. Why are you here?”

“My therapist says I need to take more risks and expose myself.”

“I’m a psychology major and I don’t think that’s what your therapist meant.”

“Honestly, I’m fine like this and probably would be okay naked.”

“What degree are you going for?”

“Physical education and nutrition with a minor in biology, but it’s really because my family used to vacation at a nudist colony.”

“You overshare to people far too quickly.”

“Yeah, I have to work on that too.”

The two women laugh, which draws attention from some of the other runners, who are gasping for air. Feeling more comfortable, Bryce takes off her underwear and pasties, but sucks in a breath at the sudden cold. Trina is about to ask a question when a flicker of movement catches her attention. She looks out over the water and swears that there is a figure moving on the shifting pack ice. Without slowing down, she watches the agile form leap and spin in the same direction as the race. The person becomes clearer by the second, her brown hair covering her face, except for a glint of gold beneath the thick tresses. Trina is surprised by the details that she sees, her eyes picking out every wrinkle in the dancer’s dark red gown. She is partially aware of the hairs on the back of her neck rising and goosebumps appearing on her arms. Even though her body is trying desperately to warn her of danger, the freshman remains mesmerized by the mysterious figure. The runner is stirred from her trance when she trips on a rock and stumbles several steps before regaining her footing. Looking back at the lake, she sees no sign of the woman, but there is an unnerving red hue to the edge of the ice.

“People have bonfires on the shore,” Bryce mentions, pointing at her nose. She takes a deep sniff of the air, the faint aroma of burning wood making her smirk. “They don’t want people going out there, but you always get a few idiots. Last year, two students fell through and one was never found. Don’t get scared though. This isn’t a college where people are dying every year, so no need to transfer. I’m just a local, so we exaggerate. You out-of-staters and down-staters are always good for a laugh.”

“Just for that, I’m beating you in this race,” Trina says, her voice showing more confidence than she really has. She races ahead with Bryce a few steps behind, the other runners cheering them on or groaning in misery. “This isn’t your sport, Bryce, so don’t hurt yourself. Still, I’m always up for a challenge. Loser has to buy the first round of shots.”