UCSD Gothic: Go left. You see a light.
The tunnel slopes up and up and suddenly you are running on the solid, flat concrete of Warren College. You glance behind yourself, hoping not to see those eyes.
You don’t see them.
You don’t see the tunnel, either. The night is quiet, warm, and still. You slow to a walk as you catch your breath and look around for answers. The fog is thinner here, and all of it is suffused with a soft pink glow. Just ahead of you, the light is brightest, so you make your way forward as the pink deepens into red.
TRUST, the light says. You sigh. It’s one of the sets of virtues and vices from atop that old brick building. But you don’t remember trust being one of them.
SAFETY, the light says. It’s blue now, a calming shade, beckoning you closer. You’re breaking through the fog now, and you can see someone sitting on the damp grass beneath the neon lights. She looks familiar, somehow, like the nicest dream you have ever forgotten.
HOME, the light says. Bright, happy yellow. The fog is gone now, and the woman is smiling at you. Off to the side of the building, you catch a glimpse of another woman and another set of lights. The neon in the distance is flickering, and the letters are shaped… wrong. You move to look, but the woman in front of you grabs your arm.
“Not all the things in this night are virtuous,” she cautions. “Best to wait for the morning with me.”
You sit on the grass with her. She offers you half a sandwich, and you find that it’s your favorite, prepared just the way you like it. You smile, take her hand, and wait out the night together.
YOU SURVIVED.
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