Are You A Believer in the Unseen? (1 or 2)

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Victoria hated her room. It always felt so tiny and cluttered. The common room was much more spacious and friendly. This is where Victoria wrote songs and played them without worrying about whether people would like them or not. In the common room she wasn’t playing for tips, she was playing for herself. For fun.

Lately Victoria had reached a block in writing new songs. It’s seemed every time she tried to thinking of new lyrics, the tune in the back of her head would block everything out. Finally she had given in and attempted to find the chords to this mysterious song. It sounded sort of like a lullaby when played outloud. She didn’t recognize it at all from anything on the radio or in her CD collections. What was it?

She thought back to her childhood and anything her dad used to sing to her as a kid. Haha, her dad singing to her. That’s funny. The thought of her dad even trying to singing was laughable. He was a serious man who only sang when his bosses wanted him to and though musician’s were wastes of space.

Victoria struck a sour chord on her guitar and took a deep breath. She didn’t need to think of him right now. She could think of… her mother. That’s it! This could have been her mother’s lullaby to her when she was a baby. Wait, could that mean…

Mom, are you there? Victoria thought in her head. She felt rather ridiculous. Then the lights went out.

“Oh shit,” Victoria whispered as others screamed. She set her guitar down and looked out the window. No city lights. The whole block was out. Suddenly flashlights started blinking on and the R.A.s of each dormitory were trying to calm people down. “The whole city is out,” they said. All Victoria could wonder is if it was the thing in her head that did it. Nah, she was totally being a nut.

Victoria found her seat again and picked up her guitar. Without a moment’s hesistation she began playing it the dark.

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Typically, Emilie was one to find her own dorm preferable to the common room—at least, if the outdoors were out of question. It was true that not much anything could beat settling down beneath a tree on a cool Autumn day with a good book and an open afternoon, but perching on the windowsill of her dorm (as precariously as possible, if simply to imagine her sister’s face were she to observe it) and doing the same was naturally the next best thing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option today, either. Her roommate “needed to study” with her boyfriend (a burly young football player who looked as though he’d been hit in the face so many times puberty had simply ceased halfway through) for the next few hours, and had politely requested Emilie vacate the area until at least midnight. Really, she didn’t think she’d want to go back there for another week. Even the common room was better than back there.

Emilie had been silent for the most part, nestled in a chair in the corner with only her copy of Wuthering Heights and her thoughts. No one had approached her and she’d approached no one—even when the lights flickered the first time, she’d merely sighed, irritated, and turned the page. Such was the typical way of things.

Then they went out. As if with the snap of some divine fingers, the entire city went black as…well, night. It was as simple as that. There were a few seconds silence before the inevitable screaming set in. A bit longer than Emilie might have predicted, really. As for her, she remained seated, not particularly wanting to get trampled and having no intention of making her way back to her dorm, as her roommate and pet oaf were probably glad of the sudden darkness. Instead, she closed her book, setting it lightly on the table next to her, and closed her eyes, just to see if it’d make any difference. Hardly. The flashlights were fairly pathetic, all things considered.

It was then that she began to hear a tune—soft, from just a few feet away from her, Emilie could only assume it was the girl who’d been next to her when it was still light outside. She didn’t know her name (or anything about her, truth be told), but she could certainly play the guitar well enough. It was a nice tune, and not one Emilie was familiar with, which probably meant one of two things: it was pop of some sort, or original. She sincerely hoped for the later as she turned to face the girl—or, well, the music, as she couldn’t quite see where exactly the girl was sitting—with a small smile on her face. “That’s a pretty tune,” she remarked almost appraisingly, although sincere. “Did you come up with it yourself?”

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Victoria felt herself shiver as the room seemed to instantly chill. It was just a power outage really. Nothing odd for New York City. She couldn’t help but feel a presence around her though. Now that she may of had it figured out, she could feel someone or something around her. It wasn’t a new feeling. She plucked away at the strings of her guitar and tried to reach into her mind. That would bring up unpleasant thoughts but Victoria had a sudden need to figure this out. But it did strike an important question to her beliefs. Did ghosts exist?

“That’s a pretty tune, Did you come up with it yourself?”

Victoria hit her guitar out of fright and the music stopped. She took out her phone and held it towards the voice. A girl with a small smile became visible. Victoria let out a breath and smiled back. It wasn’t the girls fault she was scared witless. “Not exactly. It might be a song from when I was younger. It’s been stuck in my head for a while.” Victoria noted that she made no sense and let the light of the phone go dark. “I’m Victoria by the way. A senior at this place. You?” she asked still a bit on edge. The tune had all but disappeared for now. She was sure it happened when the music stopped. To clear her thoughts, Victoria played a Beatles tune. She didn’t need to scare herself silly. Especially in front of one of her peers.

“This however is a classic,” she commented while playing the tune for maybe the hundredth time since she learned it. It never got old. Yet neither did the presence surrounding her. But she’d have to figure that out later.

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Smart of her, whipping out a light so quickly like that. Emilie followed the girl's motion, reaching down to the purse at her feet to pull out her own, glad for the extra bit of light and virtual, back-lit warmth they could pretend they provided. The stranger's jumpiness was ignored with nothing more than a small quirk of the brow on Emilie's part; she hadn't thought herself particularly menacing, even in the dark. A bit pathetic, really, if this girl was really so jumpy.

"Oh, so it's a mystery, then?" she inquired, brows raising a bit higher. "I like mysteries. Do you know where you might have heard it before?" not that she was really all that interested in this girl's past; it was just something to talk about. Something that didn't involve schoolwork or boys, as those seemed to be the only two topics her roommate either knew of or had any interest in discussing. It was nice, she had to admit, meeting someone who could at least play an instrument. Never mind that guitar had never been one of Emilie's personal favorites; it was still beautiful in its own way, she supposed, albeit without the grace and charm of viola or piano.

"Emilie," she responded as the light of their phones dimmed and died out entirely. "Junior. I don't think we've met before, have we?" of course they hadn't. Emilie never forgot a face, particularly one as full of freckles as this Victoria's was. Oh, she really shouldn't be so rude. She seemed like a nice girl--nice enough, anyhow.

Oh, there she went with the Beatles. The single most overrated band in the history of music. Loved by most and hated by a select, select few, Emilie found herself more on the indifferent end of the spectrum when it came to Misters Lennon, Starr, McCartney, and Harrison. Still, this girl obviously loved it, and seeing as it didn't seem as though the lights were coming back on any time soon and it was nowhere near midnight..."Here Comes the Sun," she nodded, crossing her legs so as to bob her free foot to the tune. "Definitely classic. Although really, I have to admit I'm not much of a fan. Of the Beatles, that is," she hastened to correct herself, "You play beautifully. Where'd you learn guitar?" There, change of subject. Wonderfully done, Ms. Simone. Truly brilliant.

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

"Oh, so it's a mystery, then?" she inquired, brows raising a bit higher. "I like mysteries. Do you know where you might have heard it before?

Victoria sighed. She could tell the truth to a stranger couldn’t she? It wasn’t like the girl was going to be anything more. There were over three thousand people in the school so the possiblity of randomly meeting her again was slim. Isn’t that what people did these days? Talk to strangers about their problems in this thing called a ‘session’. It seemed like Victoria was getting a free one.

“My mother. Sadly, she is... deceased so I can’t ask her,” Victoria said in a low voice. You’d think after fourteen years that wouldn’t be such a big deal. Though it being her fault probably hindered that fact. “And my father is estranged,” she added before the girl could ask. That was another thing she had to deal with. Her father didn’t tell her when he left her in Baum Academy but apparently he wasn’t planning on talking to her anymore after that. Though she wouldn’t be upset about this; She looked a lot like her mother. It was her punishment for all the turmoil she caused.

"Emilie," she responded as the light of their phones dimmed and died out entirely. "Junior. I don't think we've met before, have we?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. She strummed away the silly superstitious feelings and smiled in the dark. If her mom were able to talk to her, she would have done it a long time ago. She was being juvenile. Juvenile. That was a word her father used. She swallowed back a gag and briefly picked up on what Emilie said. She didn’t like the Beatles. Victoria was used to that ludicrous statement. Something about it being too mainstream or whatever. She smirked in the dark and changed to something more classical. Greensleeves. That works.

"You play beautifully. Where'd you learn guitar?"

“I taught myself. Or I guess, youtube taught me. Do you play?” she asked trying to make conversation. They obviously were going to be here a while.