Sigma Eta

Obsession Is A Funny Thing

Victor was still recovering from his encounter with his doppelganger when Musgrave came to pick him up for their coffee date. It had been hours prior to their meeting, though every time Victor saw an unexpected figure in his peripheral vision he had to jump, worried that his twin from the past was back to claim the throne as the one and only. Perhaps he was just losing his mind, perhaps everything he had witnessed so far were just hallucinations caused by a strange gas leak within his apartment? Perhaps he was seeing things and confusing himself in his effort to rationalize them into ghosts. However, on the off chance that he was being haunted by multiple characters, well what did that mean about his place in the world? Were all of these figures, the dark mist, the girls in white, and the doppelganger all connected to the house in some way? And if so, did that mean Victor was more intertwined in this mystery than he thought? Perhaps they were all coming after him because they knew his purpose in this college to be more than just a professor. Maybe he had a connection with the building, a connection forged long before he ever knew it existed!
"Professor!" called out Musgrave's rather boring voice, struggling now to display the emotion of excitement. As Victor had predicted, the man had dressed in his best. As per the chilly weather he was covering his clothes with a long tan overcoat, though out from underneath was a crimson tie and perched atop his hat was a very fashionable fedora. Such a statement was his outfit that Victor felt very ridiculous in comparison, only having brought out his shabby old coat from home. It was nothing fancy, just plain wool with large brown buttons.
"Dressed for the runway, Musgrave." Victor commented, feeling the need to express how impressed he was on the man's choice of dress.
"Oh well, I like to look my best. Can't let the students know I'm deteriorating." He admitted with a little chuckle.
"Deteriorating in what way?" Victor wondered, finding that a strange verb to use in such a statement.
"Oh, my mental state of course. With every nerve they snap I lose one more brain cell, and before long I'll be showing up to work with my tie on backwards and my socks on the outside of my shoes!" Musgrave growled.
"And what are we supposed to do to help you in such a situation?" Victor wondered, intentionally mockingly.
"Put me out of my misery, of course. Throw me from the highest tower." Musgrave responded immediately, as if he had thought of the best ways to be dealt with across campus.
"I'll make a note." Victor promised, starting his way out of the building and across the sidewalks through campus. He wasn't entirely sure where they were heading, considering Musgrave had only promised him a cup of coffee upon their first meeting. He could only imagine that they were headed downtown, for that was where their path was leading, though for all he knew Musgrave could take a sharp right turn and get a drink at the dining hall instead. That would rather dampen the spirit of this gathering, whatever the intention may be. And so, like the lost little puppy he was, Victor followed obediently in Musgrave's wake. Together they started down the barren sidewalks along the street, allowing Victor a passing glance at the Sigma Eta house as he walked alongside of its gaping, expectant windows.
"How long have you been teaching here?" Victor wondered, at last prying his eyes off of the peeling paint and continuing on at the man's side.
"Oh, maybe fourteen years? Maybe longer. I can't really remember, they all sort of blur." Musgrave admitted, tucking his hands into his pockets and giving a sigh of remorse.
"That's a sizable block of time." Victor muttered, blinking in some shock. He couldn't imagine working someplace for fourteen years, no matter how good the job may be.
"Makes me sound quite old. Old in comparison, at least." Musgrave mumbled.
"Certainly not! I got a start on teaching quite late, actually. I spent some years trying to get into accounting before I decided that I should just teach it instead of practice it. We can't be more than ten years apart, give or take." Victor assured. Musgrave laughed, though it didn't sound as though he was very reassured by that number.
"An old man." He muttered again, shaking his head but continuing on in silence. Victor remained quiet as well, not sure what the Professor was expecting him to say in response. He would be ever so happy to deny Musgrave's claims, for really he was not as old as he might think. However it seemed as though Musgrave had gotten lost in thought, perhaps thinking more on his shortening life expectancy, or perhaps on other things that have to do with age. Victor thought as well, and the more he pondered the more reassured he became. Certainly if Musgrave had been teaching for fourteen years, allowing for some gap years, he could not be so near to fifty. In fact there was a chance he was only somewhere over forty, allowing for their age difference to not be so lengthy! Thankfully Musgrave was the first to start up conversation again, after his small existential crisis had passed. He began a nice chat about the college life, especially the small troubles of being a professor that no student could ever understand. They talked of grading and class making, remembering student's names and dealing with those who were never going to pass. Of course Victor hadn't yet been in the business for very long, and so most of the stories that Musgrave had to tell were being processed only as advice (if not as some small horror stories, things Victor didn't ever want to witness in his own teaching career). From what Victor could tell Stoke Moran had its share of crazies, and it seemed as though the whole bunch of them had landed themselves within Musgrave's architectural classes. Victor didn't have many stories to share, though he offered enough enthusiasm to hear Musgrave talk that they managed to get to the coffee shop with the older man taking over most of the conversation. That was quite alright, for he really did have a nice musical voice. His words were very deep, almost as if he had a cigarette habit in the past, and when he got excited they had a tendency to jumble together into long, strangely coherent phrases. It seemed as though the poor Professor hadn't taken a single breath as they made their way down the hill into town, though he didn't seem to mind. There was a smile on his face as he led the way into the coffee shop, holding the door so that the little bell on the top didn't jingle too much to announce their entry. It was a small little place; with enough chairs to seat a much larger population of people should they choose to come. It was an odd hour, admittedly, and so there were plenty of high topped window seats for the two professors to choose from. Victor hadn't had a cup of coffee in a long while, not entirely by choice but mostly by lack of convenience and lack of funds. It was a hassle to go out of his way to get a freshly brewed cup of coffee, and of course he had never thought to invest in a coffee maker at home. The aroma of the fresh beans made his mouth water, and as soon as he settled himself down in a tall chair he knew that this was an excellent decision, going along with Professor Musgrave's invitation. When their orders had been placed the two Professor remained in a somewhat awkward silence, facing each other across a very small, circular table. They both had their hands folded upon their sides, though if either one were to adjust themselves without thinking their hands could brush together, making for a rather awkward string of apologies to follow. Thankfully they were at a window seat, and so conversation was not so forced at the beginning. The town around them was flowing with the interesting tides of the city, bringing the more strange creatures across the streets for the two men to observe.
"It's a different world out here, compared to the college." Musgrave commented.
"That's why I tend to avoid it." Victor admitted at last, even though his apartment was only a couple of streets away.
"I tend to try to support local businesses, but I don't have much interest in making friends along the way. I really...well to be honest I'm never very interested in being friendly at all." he admitted with an almost pitiful chuckle. Victor managed a small smile, though he had to wonder why Musgrave chose him of all people to take out to coffee.
"Does that make me special?" Victor asked at last, his cheeks filing with heat even though he didn't will them to.
"I guess we'll find out." Musgrave admitted, sitting back in his chair with an almost mischievous smile. Victor nodded, not sure how to take such a vague statement, and so he instead focused on a woman pushing a double stroller down the sidewalk opposite their street. Despite the action outside he was terribly aware of the silence inside; save for a mellow jazz CD playing quietly over the speakers it was almost silent within the coffee shop. Each one of the drinkers (all of which were alone, with either a book or a blank stare) was certainly keeping their ears open to eavesdrop. Victor knew for sure that whatever was discussed between the two professors, whether it be so personal, would be noted by all who were listening in.
"Have you ever met Martha Hudson?" Victor asked finally, figuring that there was room for a more docile conversation now that their tension had faded back to a reasonable level.
"The history professor? Well certainly I have. She's a gem." Musgrave agreed with an almost excited look in his eyes.
"She is, a very remarkable woman. She's helping me, well at least she was, uncover the secrets of the Sigma Eta house." Victor admitted with a little smile.
"Secrets? What secrets could that house have that are so worth uncovering?" Musgrave asked, his eyebrows narrowing behind his glasses to give him an almost cartoonish look of confusion.
"Don't you find it strange that it's empty? Surely there's got to be a good reason." Victor commented, surprised to hear of the man's disinterest. He had been under the impression that this town had been cast under a spell, each one of its residents being obsessed with uncovering the truth so long as they would dedicate time towards it.
"I heard it was nothing more than a funding complication." Musgrave said with a shrug. "But then again, there could be a more glamorous rumor going about as well."
"There's nothing so far as I can tell. In fact, funding is the first solid answer I've gotten." Victor admitted, allowing his head to hang rather disappointedly on his shoulders. How much of a disappointment would it be if this house really had gone under because of money problems? If this 'tragedy' was one completely limited to the financial sector?
"What does Martha think?" Musgrave wondered. Victor chuckled, though as he began to think he wasn't entirely sure what Martha credited the shutdown to. Definitely something of the supernatural, though beyond that he wasn't sure of the specifics.
"She's under the impression that there's a...well I'm not sure what exactly it is. A ghost of some sort, a possessive entity. She thinks it has made that house its home, and by doing so cleared out all the residents through some sort of accident." Victor decided, trying to piece together this mystical entity with the evacuation of the house's occupants.
"Ghost stories again." Musgrave agreed. Victor nodded, though when he remembered back to his own encounter with this supposed black shadow he gave an unwilling shiver. It was as if the hands were on him once more, as if the lips had never left his own...
"Say what you want about ghost stories, but I've been compelled to believe them." he admitted quietly.
"My logical brain demands I dismiss you, but the color of your face is compelling. You've grown pale, Professor Trevor." Musgrave commented. Victor hesitated, though when he looked into the other man's eyes he saw a curious sparkle. He was beckoning the story to come out, anxious to hear what Victor would offer up as solid proof.
"There was a shadow in my apartment, the night that I first began my research. It grew until it overwhelmed the entire room, and I was thrown to the floor by hands that I couldn't see. I was being attacked by air, air which had the ability to touch..." Victor let his words trail there, not sure if he was willing to share the more intimate version of that story to someone he had just met. "And beyond that I've seen these girls, girls dressed in white. They vanish, they walk through walls. And today, just today, I swear I saw a man who looked exactly like me. A man dressed in old clothes, with my face, inside of my office!"
"One might presume you are taking new medication." Musgrave chuckled, undoubtedly taking each one of those stories as a mere hallucination. There was something strangely irritating about his doubt, as if he was calling Victor a liar simply by not believing him. Well, whatever effort Victor had to convince his new friend about the world of the dead would have to be delayed, for just as soon as he opened his mouth to defend his sightings a waiter came to deliver their coffees. Surely all talk of ghosts would have to be delayed in an effort to sound academic and not purely insane. For a moment they stirred their coffee, Victor lost in thought about how he might best defend himself. As he watched the steam billowing from his cup he wondered if it would be in his best interest to change the topic of conversation, though to his surprise it was not he who spoke the first word after their small hiatus.
"The girls dressed in white, I have heard them mentioned before. In fact, I know the history behind them." Musgrave admitted at last, taking a small sip of his coffee before leaning forward and folding his fingers in a rather complicated array. Victor paused, staring at the man with wide eyes and wondering if he was being entirely truthful. Certainly Musgrave would not be bold enough to make up some false history just to get Victor excited?
"Do you really?" he clarified hopefully. Musgrave nodded, thinking for a moment as his gray eyes grew hazy behind his circular glasses.
"They were, well let me think. Maybe five years before I came to teach here? It was sometime in the early nineties, perhaps late eighties, but long enough for that house to have lost its ghostly reputation, certainly among the outsiders. Well, so the legend goes that the school decided to take it over and use it for freshman year housing, a girls-only option. Perhaps they figured the infrastructure had seen enough of the boyish craze, who knows? But they housed it full of first years, and each one of them was very enthusiastic about the idea. Apparently that didn't last long, for fights began to break out between them. There was tension, anger that dissolved when they stepped out the doors. In the end, towards the middle of the semester, one of the girls came to the college demanding to be removed, claiming that she was sick of seeing 'that boy'. A boy, well it was a bold tale. But when she was removed, everyone else decided they also wanted to leave. The college became overwhelmed, so curious as to who this boy was that was displacing so many of their girls. But they were afraid of him, you see. They figured he must have been crawling in through the windows at night, just to scare them. Those that the college didn't move ended up dropping out, and in the end the girls had pledged that if that boy didn't kill them then their roommates would've. It was a ghastly scene, and to this day no one knows who exactly had been tormenting them."
"You think...well might he have been a ghost?" Victor asked anxiously.
"What is with you and supernatural explanations?" Musgrave asked with something of a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh think about it, a boy they couldn't find? A boy who only showed up at night, in a locked house? Certainly he was one of the past fraternity brothers!" Victor offered.
"Or a current fraternity brother." Musgrave muttered, sipping at his coffee with a smug little smile. Victor nodded, staring down at the table and diving into his brain a little bit more. It was a strange tale, one that could be explained in many different (and very conflicting) ways. Musgrave may be right, it could have been a boy who was just breaking in for a little bit of a laugh. But on the off chance that he was from another world, perhaps it was the same spirit that Martha had claimed to see? And if so, did that make him the one who had traveled all the way to Victor's apartment? Was this boy the same who had pressed his lips to Victor's? He shuttered again, blinking for a moment as he realized a flaw in this story, one that didn't make sense in either of their definitions of reality.
"Wait a moment, are you claiming the girls got out alive?" Victor clarified.
"Well yes, I do assume so." Musgrave agreed. "There would have been a bigger fuss if the opposite had been true."
"If they're not dead, well then how can they be ghosts?" Victor mumbled.
"If you're not dead, how can you have seen yourself?" Musgrave offered just as quickly, playing along with Victor's own gap in argument. Victor nodded, though after a moment of hesitation he touched his thumb to his opposite wrist, just to be sure that he was a solid being. And yes, he could feel skin and bone. A heartrate, too.
"I'm not sure." Victor admitted after a moment, positive that he was indeed alive. Musgrave nodded, certainly seeing Victor as a lunatic without a good enough story to back even his fantasies up with.
"There is a flaw in your argument, Professor." Musgrave decided.
"And in yours as well." Victor agreed.
"In mine? However so?" Musgrave clarified.
"I know what I saw. I know for certain that...well that I'm not crazy. My eyes don't lie." Victor promised.
"I'm sure they don't intend to. But just as we make up emotions inside of our heads, we can also make up memories, even bend reality. It's a natural human instinct to see what you want to see." Musgrave pointed out, his voice dropping to a very quiet level now, as if he trying to keep this section of conversation free from supposed eavesdroppers.
"I'm not sure I want to see any of this." Victor admitted.
"Then drop it." Musgrave suggested. "If you don't want to care, then simply forget."
"I couldn't do that either." Victor mumbled, a truly honest response. Musgrave chuckled, as if he suspected as much.
"Obsession is a funny thing. It's very often as addictive as a drug, coupled with the same phenomena of denial." Musgrave pointed out. Victor nodded in agreement, cupping his hands around the edge of his paper cup and sighing quietly. Musgrave was right, of course. He was addicted to this, this funnel of information that was feeding directly into his brain. But who was he to cut if off? Who was he to deny himself the information about a building that had caught his attention? There was no danger in continuing on, at least not from his own viewpoint. And perhaps Mrs. Hudson was right, perhaps there was a spirit lurking about, seeking to terrorize those who learned its name. But would that not be worth it, to go out smugly and prove everyone wrong? If Victor died at the hands of a ghost then Musgrave would not get the last laugh. Would it be worth it then, to die with all the information at his hands, and to die with the final proof of his supernatural interests? Victor smiled to himself, thinking about the look on Musgrave's face should he end up dead somewhere with no logical cause. Well it would be an interesting face indeed, depending on what happened past this little coffee date. There was the potential for real grief, or perhaps no emotions at all. It all depended on where this took them, and how far they wanted to go.