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The Silent Directive is a horror podcast. There

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are many themes some users may find disturbing.

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Please check the description before listening.

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Thank you. The Silent Directive Episode 3 The

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Presence in Smith Hall It is a misconception

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that only the uneducated believe in the paranormal.

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Those dull, tasteless, oversaturated, and largely

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scripted ghost hunting shows bear the blame for

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creating such stereotypes. In reality, those

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most likely to believe in the paranormal are

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those who truly grasp an understanding of the

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world. I'm telling you this because of my next

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story. I wasn't sure at first how much time had

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passed in between, but after Taiwan, I found

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myself across the world. Chapman University,

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in California. Now, I need to explain to you.

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My perception of time is linear. However, sometimes

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I can see events of the past. They flash into

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my mind as if I were there to see them. But I

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cannot see the future. Keep that in mind as we

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continue. Now, back to what I was saying. Usually,

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paranormal experiences are individual. Usually,

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there are no witnesses, which adds to the unease.

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If no one is around to see what you saw, how

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do you know you're not going insane? But this

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instance was not the same. In fact, it had none

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of the usual qualities of a ghost encounter.

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It was a full classroom during the middle of

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a cool, cloudy day. The professor was standing

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at the front of the class, lecturing to his 30

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-some students preparing for their upcoming midterm.

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It was quiet. Only the professor's voice filled

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the room. Sometimes, if he paced too far toward

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the door, the floor would groan and creak. Everyone

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knew it did. It was somewhat of an inside joke

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among any student with a class in Smith Hall

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211. Step too close to the door and the floor

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will creak. So while he was talking, the professor

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made sure to stay close to his desk. With only

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15 minutes left of the two -hour class, he started

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to discuss expectations for next week and the

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dreaded midterms. But suddenly he was interrupted.

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The distinct, familiar sound of someone walking

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toward the door startled him. Some student had

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gotten up to go to the bathroom, surely. But

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no, all students were seated, taking notes on

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what was written on the board. Some were looking

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toward the front of the classroom. Clearly they

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had heard it too. But, oh well, an unprompted

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creak. Unusual, but not strange. Smith Hall was

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one of the oldest buildings on campus, after

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all. The professor went to continue, but another

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creak came. This time, the entire class looked

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up. It was loud. Distinct. It was a footstep.

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The professor watched the door. There should

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have been someone standing in front of it, but

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there was no one there. It was eerie. Then came

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three more footsteps. It sounded like stomping.

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The floor groaned out as this invisible force

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stepped across the front of the classroom toward

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the professor. He flinched, expecting something

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to happen, but nothing did, and the sounds disappeared.

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The stunned silence of the classroom only lasted

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a few seconds. It quickly derailed into questions

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and excitement. For the rest of the class, it

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was clear the sounds were in the room. As a collective,

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they spent the rest of the class trying to recreate

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the noises. After all, they were academics. To

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explain something is to know something, right?

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But they couldn't. They tried stomping outside

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the classroom, next door, in the class below.

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After using up the rest of the class, the students

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left, still confused. They had been unable to

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reproduce the noises. The only way they could

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was by stomping across the front of the class,

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the exact place that had been empty during the

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event. So they left their professor just as confused

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as they were. What a strange event. I must say,

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from what I saw, the word ghost or paranormal

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was only thrown around a few times, as a joke.

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The class did not directly come to the immediate

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conclusion that there was a ghost in their building

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that interrupted their lecture. The primary thought

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was concern over the integrity of the building.

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The students, along with their professor, worried

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about how stable this creaky floor really was.

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The thought of something paranormal only came

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up later that night. Now this had the markings

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of a ghost story. The clouds had dissipated,

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the sky was dark and the moon was bright, and

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campus was a ghost town. Or, you know what I

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mean. Before that day, the professor didn't have

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any prior experience with the paranormal, nor

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any opinions on it. He wasn't a believer, nor

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was he a skeptic. He just had other things to

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worry about, such as his students' most recent

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essays. That's why he was still in his office

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so late. Smith Hall, 07. It was late and he was

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alone, but that was usual. He didn't think anything

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of it. At least for the first hour. By hour two,

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he had finished grading half the essays. They

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were in a neat pile on the side of his desk.

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He leaned back in his chair to take a small breather.

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As he surveyed the room, he heard someone pass

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by his door. Or at least he thought he did. The

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window on the door was translucent. If there

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had been someone out there, there would have

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been a shadow or something. In a place so quiet

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and empty as Smith Hall, it was easy to get one

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of those creeping feelings. See, Smith Hall,

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aside from being one of the oldest buildings

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on campus, was also one of the farthest. It was

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at the very edge of campus, and the professor's

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office was in room 07, the basement. There were

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only offices down there, and he personally knew

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the other three faculty members with offices.

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The professor stood up, opened his door, poked

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his head out into the hall. It was empty, of

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course, and the lights were dim. He considered

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calling out, asking if anyone was there. But

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for some reason, the thought of making a noise

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sent a deep chill down his spine. Before he could

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step back into his office, he felt something.

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That vague, unreachable feeling that you know

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you're not alone. We've all felt it. We've all

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tried to describe it before, but it's not easy.

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We don't know exactly what that feeling is or

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how it works, let alone how to describe it. But

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we all know it. The professor felt as though

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he'd seen someone step back into the darkness

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of the supply closet at the end of the hall.

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He hadn't. He knew he hadn't. But as he stared

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into the dark room, he knew someone was looking

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back. They weren't. But he could feel it. By

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now he was spooked. He stepped back into his

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office and closed the door. Like that thin pane

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of glass could help. His hand rested on the handle.

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Should he lock it? No, that was just silly. Besides,

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what if it was a student? What if they had some

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questions? Locking it was just not necessary.

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As he released the handle, he took a step backward.

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And as he did, he bumped into someone. Now, this

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was his office. He had barely taken a step down

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the hall. He had been gone for less than 30 seconds.

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So if someone had entered his office, they would

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have had to sneak behind him. It didn't make

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any sense. Yet he bumped into someone. He yelped

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and spun around. No one was there. That should

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have made him feel better, but it did not. Maybe

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he bumped into his desk. It was too far away,

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too low. He felt the sensation in his shoulders,

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like backing into someone in a crowded hall.

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But this room was empty. The professor pushed

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his back against the door, the threat outside

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completely forgotten. There was someone in this

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room with him. He was not alone. But the room

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was quiet and empty. But it wasn't. It was filled

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with the silence created by another person, both

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trying to stay quiet to not disturb the other.

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And then, the professor's eyes moved to his leather

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office chair. It had spun around when he stood

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up, and it was now facing the back wall. Only

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now, it was slowly spinning. His heart raced.

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His breathing stopped. There was going to be

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something sitting in the chair, and the professor

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did not want to see it. But he couldn't move.

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His door opened inward, and that would require

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him to get closer to it. He watched in horror

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as the chair spun around. But it was empty. Immediately,

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he was flooded with relief, almost enough to

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laugh out loud. How silly, being scared of an

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old building and a gust of wind from some vent.

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He almost, almost went to sit back down. But

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his eyes were still on the chair as he saw the

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leather sink down. Something was sitting in his

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chair. Now he could feel it. The eyes. Something

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was staring at him. He was not alone. He hadn't

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been alone this entire time. The professor was

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old, but that didn't stop him from running out

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of the building. He rushed to his car and drove

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all the way home, feeling the eyes on the back

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of his neck the entire time. There have been

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stories here and there, presences, anxious feelings,

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this and that, but the professor from Smith Hall

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never went back to Chapman. He retired the very

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next day. To this day, he doesn't feel comfortable

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alone. Because... He never feels alone anymore.

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The second the other person leaves the room,

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he feels those unseen eyes return, standing in

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some corner. As far as unusual activity on college

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campus goes, paranormal encounter is relatively

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tame. And like I said before, there's a misconception

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about who believes in the paranormal. Sometimes,

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the more you know, the scarier the world becomes.

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Which... I guess, is what I've devoted myself

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to. I don't get scared. I get curious. Clearly,

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you're the same. Otherwise, I'm not sure why

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you're listening. But either way, I'm happy to

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keep telling these stories.
