Nobody really sleeps for the first few nights in the dorms. It's not just the whole "new room, gotta adjust to it" thing or the fact that the guys next door blast their tunes out at 3AM for no discernable reason or the weird stains on the ceiling that look like blood at night when the streetlights shine through the pathetically thin curtains.
It's the hands that slip under your door and tap gently, beckoning you over with increasing urgency until you cave and walk right up to them. You peer through the keyhole and see a writhing mass of grey flesh and countless stick-thin arms jabbing out and slowly withdrawing again and again and again as those hands try and tug you closer.
It's easier to stay awake and keep an eye on them.
Easier to swat them away from the door handle when they get too close.
Easier to stop it from letting itself in.
It's the hands that slip under your door and tap gently, beckoning you over with increasing urgency until you cave and walk right up to them. You peer through the keyhole and see a writhing mass of grey flesh and countless stick-thin arms jabbing out and slowly withdrawing again and again and again as those hands try and tug you closer.
It's easier to stay awake and keep an eye on them.
Easier to swat them away from the door handle when they get too close.
Easier to stop it from letting itself in.
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