K-Hoes

The Spirits

"Oh man, where is Bobby?" Greer muttered to herself, pacing around her dormitory room. Frustrated, she tossed her phone onto the mattress, sliding a pillow under her neck as she lay down and continued to furiously scroll through her screen, waiting for a reply that wasn't coming.

Far from the campus, hidden in the shadows of the tree line, Bobby's chest heaved with heavy, panicked breaths. "Mother... no. No, there's no way," she cried, her voice cracking as tears rolled down her face. She sprinted forward, throwing her arms out to embrace her mother.

But her arms met only empty air. She passed completely through her mother's form like a mist.

Bobby gasped, turning around rapidly. Yet, while Bobby couldn’t feel physical mass, her mother's hands suddenly wrapped gently around her from behind, a warm, spiritual pressure holding her tight."

The waist jewelry was meant to protect you, Bobby," Karaba whispered softly into her daughter's ear. "You broke it, which triggered us to come here."

"Us?!" Bobby gasped, spinning around to look at her mother's glowing, translucent face.

Karaba didn't answer right away. She simply touched Bobby’s face with immense softness, looking deep into her eyes. "It's time to rest, dear. Forget all of this and go back to your normal life."

Slowly, Karaba began to sing a soft, rhythmic Swahili lullaby. The comforting, melodic words washed over Bobby, weaving a heavy drowsiness into her mind. Her knees buckled. Bobby slowly sank to the ground, her mother cradling her weightless form down until she was gently laid out on the dirt. Bobby's eyes closed, falling into a deep sleep.

Vrrrrrrrrrr!

Suddenly, the aggressive vibration of a phone echoed through Bobby’s discarded bag.

Karaba stood up, her spiritual eyes shifting to the bag. She reached inside, pulling out the ancient, screaming-faced box, inspecting its dark leather cover with deep suspicion.

"You are not supposed to be here," a harsh, echoing voice boomed from the shadows behind her.

Karaba spun around. Another spirit had materialized out of the dark trees, his form twisting with malice.

"This is not your side," the male spirit hissed, stepping forward. "You didn't die here. You stay where you die!"

"I came here to see my daughter!" Karaba replied firmly, clutching the box tighter.

The man sneered, his eyes flashing angrily. "I'll make them burn you again. I'll make them burn your very spirit until you are gone for good."

Karaba let out a sharp, fearless laugh. "As if you have that power."

"Give me that box," the spirit demanded.

Karaba gave him one last piercing, lethal look before her form suddenly dissolved into the air, leaving the clearing entirely.

Meanwhile, back in the quiet safety of the boys' dormitory, Arlo was sitting on his bed, intently reading through a thick textbook on animal anatomy that he had borrowed from the library. As he flipped to the next section, a small piece of paper slid out from between the pages and fluttered onto his lap.

He picked it up. Written in elegant ink was a short note: Meet me at the willow tree at 4:00 PM. Yours truly, Cleo.

Arlo stared at it, utterly confused. He actively wondered who could have possibly put that note inside his book. The paper was incredibly old, its edges fraying and turning a deep yellow, and the ink was lightly smudged with age. It didn't look like something anyone would write today.

"Oh, you got a love letter?!" Jude’s voice suddenly boomed from across the room. He leaned over, teasing him with a wide grin. "Man, so early? You just got to this school!"

Jude snatched the paper to read it himself, bursting into a loud laugh. "Cleo! You should totally go! I mean, I can go for you if you're too hesitant."

"Who is she?" Arlo asked quietly.

Jude blinked in disbelief. "What?! The self-absorbed girl we literally just had lunch with!"

Arlo looked down, thinking hard. It really didn't seem like her, and the ancient paper made him doubt it even more. He gripped the pencil tightly in his hand. I should probably return her pencil anyway, he thought to himself, remembering their hallway collision.

"Okay," Arlo said aloud, setting the book down.

"Great! Was hoping you'd pass the controller," Jude joked, playfully rubbing Arlo's head before turning back to his game.

Arlo headed out, wandering the campus grounds in search of a willow tree. Seeing absolutely nothing but standard brick buildings and manicured lawns, he decided to walk past the school gates. He wasn't entirely familiar with the surrounding town, so he nervously approached a few locals.

"A willow tree? I haven't seen one of those in a long time," an old man murmured, scratchy-voiced. He paused, pointing a weathered finger down a dirt path. "That's the only one remaining around these parts, I'm sure. Unless they finally cut it down."

Arlo thanked him and hurried down the path. When he finally reached the massive, sweeping branches of the lone willow tree, he stopped. There was a figure slumped on the ground beneath the leaves, appearing to be fast asleep.

As he stepped closer, he caught sight of bright blue hair twisted into long braids. Cleo doesn't have hair like that, he muttered to himself.

He drew closer, his eyes widening. "Bobby!"

He reached out to touch her arm to wake her, but quickly stopped himself, feeling shy. Instead, he simply sat down quietly in the dirt beside her.

The rustle of his movement caused Bobby to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up straight, blinking against the daylight. She leaned forward, staring at him. "Mmh... you?" She let out a sudden, nervous laugh. "Did you bring me here? No way... did you drug me?"

"No," Arlo said quickly, looking down at his hands, his face turning slightly pink. "I just found you here."

Bobby blinked, quickly unzipping her bag to check the time on her phone. Her screen lit up with dozens of missed calls and texts from Greer.

"Oh, man," she sighed heavily, scrambling to her feet. "Adios!"

"Bye! See you tomorrow," Arlo said, echoing the casual farewells he had observed other students using on campus.

Bobby paused, bursting into a mock-dramatic laugh. "Oouuuuhh! See me tomorrowwwww!" She smiled, stretching out her hand toward him. "What is your name anyway?"

"Arlo," he said quietly.

"Bobby," she replied, giving his hand a firm handshake."Byeee!"

She turned and sprinted away so fast that she didn't even notice her pencil slipping out of her pocket and clattering into the grass. Arlo reached out, but she was already gone.

He picked it up, staring at it blankly. Now, Arlo had two pencils to return.

Late that evening, the campus grew dead quiet. The night cleaning staff moved through the empty hallways of the Fine Arts department, sweeping the floors and emptying trash bins.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

A blood-curdling scream shattered the silence, echoing violently from the upper floor offices. Down the hall, several staff members dropped their brooms and rushed toward the sound, while others froze in place, exchanging terrified glances.

Inside the office, the school counselor, Chandler, stood trembling at the doorway, utterly shocked by the sight before her

.On the ground lay the pale, withered body of Professor Charles. His skin looked deeply sunken and decayed, appearing as though he had been dead for days rather than hours.

Chandler forced herself to step into the room, her analytical eyes scanning the scene. Something about this layout felt unnervingly familiar—she had seen something like this once before. She looked toward the center of the room and noticed a small, distinct section of the floor covered in a fine layer of silver ash.

She frowned. Dr. Charles doesn't smoke, she thought. Was he burning something right before he died?

She moved closer to the corpse, her eyes dropping to his face. The professor's eyes and mouth were stretched incredibly wide open, frozen in a silent gasp.

Chandler whispered the word to herself in the quiet room, the horror setting in: "...Necromancy?"