One Down.

University of Bridgeport Fine Arts Building

Duncan walked to his night class in the Fine Arts Building. Most of his jitters had been over from the beginning of the day a week ago. He started to wonder if maybe he had something spiked or he'd just not slept enough. He had no idea that not getting enough sleep could do that to him. Maybe with the added pressure of the paintings mounting on him too. Anyhow, things were okay now. A little trepidation in the night, but he saw no bugs. Nothing. He waited outside his classroom. Duncan always liked to come earlier than others. It gave him extra time to read or relax without anyone gossiping or talking. That also meant the classroom wouldn't be open yet. That was okay too though. The hallway was nice and bright. Art pictures from the nearby art class were on the walls. Bunches of shaded chairs. It probably took awhile before people got used to things. Either that or those students just all picked a chair to draw. Some were good, and some looked terrible. It was easy to see who was going to go on.

Then there was a goofy saying over the whole thing, "Put your Art into it!'. Something he hadn't seen since grade school. He was glad not to be associated with that. He only had one class in the Fine Arts, and it's only because he needed that extra credit. One semester of Spanish should get him through. It was a long night class but it was only once a week. He dug his Spanish book out. Shouldn't be too bad. Duncan looked at the introductory pages.

Then saw a small bug drop on it. Small. It was like a roly poly. Still, he moved. He didn't want anything to do with any insects. He went back to looking at his book again. The hallway lights seemed to get dimmer. He didn't know why, probably a light burning out further downward. While he looked at the book, it seemed easy. Introductory phrases. If he focused on things like colors and greetings he'd probably be okay at first.

Then, the lights got dimmer again. He looked ahead and noticed that the fluorescents didn't fluoresce so bright. They weren't burnt out, just dimmed. He heard footsteps coming around the distant corner. Good, there was another student. The lighting was getting creepy, so he changed his mind about wanting to be alone anymore. Even if that person didn't talk to Duncan, someone else's presence would be now. Hopefully it would be the teacher. That would be even better. He waited but no one came around the corner. Instead he heard a light buzz on his book.

He looked down at it and instinctively dropped the book and backed away. It was a big black flying bug. It wasn't flying but it kept spreading it's wings in and out, crawling on his book. It wasn't massive like in his nightmares but it wasn't the roly poly size. This school is infested. Maybe his lack of sleep enhanced his imagination earlier in the week, and maybe some of the bugs he saw here and there seemed bigger than usual, but he still believed they were there. He wouldn't imagine that exact buzzing noise. Those exact markings. He knew nothing about bugs, why would he be imagining unique markings? Especially that one. It was almost all black except for a strip of white on the head, a strip of white toward the back and even legs that were half white and half black. He watched it's wings flap again. The edges were white while the wings were transparent but blacker in nature.

He decided standing up was a better idea. As the bug left his book, he waited for it to be a distance and picked it back up. He held his book. It felt disgusting but it was his book. Maybe some minor wiping with a damp paper towel would help it feel better without ruining it? It was just the introductory page and he bought it. If it was ruined on the introduction, it wouldn't be a waste.

Duncan checked his watch. This was going to be one of those straggler classes. Five minutes before school started and no one had showed up. He brought his schedule back out to look at it, to make sure he got the right time. "What?" No. That was impossible. He looked at his schedule all week, learning about each class. He couldn't have got it wrong.

He stared at the date and time. The teacher. How did he miss it? He focused on the time. 7:00. He looked at the tip of the 7. On the very tip was a tiny bug on it? No way. What? It was a long class during the week to make up for the missing Monday Wednesday scheduling, but it was at 1:00 PM, not 7:00. Come on, no way. He reached into his bookbag's siding and pulled out a pencil, knocking it off. He could understand that being a coincidental accident once, but more than once? That paper went everywhere, it had been folded up and stuffed in and out of his book bags and books. The bug just stayed there the whole time, not moving? Making him think it was 7:00?

Then another bug fell on his book. Similar to the one before but smaller. Ew. Before he dropped the book this time though, he also felt something crawling in his hood. He could feel something not touching him yet, but it's weight was shifting in his hood. No several things.

He looked up. The florescent light above him was almost pitch black but he could see thousands of things wriggling in it, and the bottom was starting to crack open. Right where he had been. He started to run and took off his bookbag and then his hoodie. Once he settled down, he'd go back for them. He ran until the lights were becoming brighter again. Damn this school. "I should have took the money." He could have got the hell out of that school. He was more than ready to go home, there wouldn't be a class tonight. He checked the lights above him. None of them were breaking like the one he ran away from. He needed his bookbag. He'd leave his hoodie, he wasn't messing with any bugs in it. Either someone would take it tomorrow or someone would pick it up and ask about it later and he'd claim it. He wouldn't lose sleep over it. He did need his bookbag though, he didn't want to rebuy any of his books or supplies.

Once he grabbed it, he checked it carefully. It was fine, no bugs. He ran away from the crack. He could still see where they were starting to fall up ahead. He went ahead and put his book bag on.

Then the florescent light above fell open. It fell to the side of him, not doing him any damage but bugs of white and black rained down on him like water in a torrential storm! He ran as fast as he could, and he heard the crunching of them beneath him along with the busting of all the florescent lights. Each time he was almost underneath, they would bust open and rain down on him. There were so many black and white insects crawling on the ground that when he stomped on their guts, the slippery floor made him trip. Covered in insect guts, he struggled to get back up.

He was running on pure adrenaline, none of the floor was visible. Everywhere he put his hands to prop himself back up was covered in insects. He kept his mouth closed although he wanted to scream. He kept his mouth closed, not wanting any to get in. He could already feel them wanting to, and he could already feel some trying to get into his ears too. He got up and sprang forward to the door hearing the florescents breaking like a bridge. He got to the door.

It was locked. No! It couldn't be locked. He brushed his face to try and get the insects off enough to see how to unlock. How to do anything. There was nothing though.

But, he could see something else. There was light coming from the other hallway and somebody whistling a jaunty tune. He couldn't keep his eyes open long enough before he felt more bugs finding their way to his face. He tried to run that way. Not feeling the bugs underneath him anymore, he shook his body extra good, banging himself up on the siding too. When he thought he'd cleaned his face enough he had to do it. Somewhere down there, there was help, but it wasn't in the hall. They might even be in the elevator going up if they were a janitor!

He had to take the chance and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Then the florescent lights that were lit and bright suddenly burst with a downpour of his nighmares continued, now with his mouth opened. Forgetting his own senses, he rushed to the back doors, feeling them crawling and getting bitten and some going down his throat. He couldn't help but scream now. He reached for the door, it wasn't locked anymore and he ran out covered in the infestation. He ran straight out. There was a reason the front doors should be open at night and the back doors should have remain locked though. They led straight into the road.

The light was so bright and getting brighter as he ran. Comforting again, being out of the darkness.

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Outside the back of the Fine Arts Building

Beetlejuice waited, out of the way as the terrified college students that hit Duncan gave him their statement to the police while an ambulance was loading up the now vacant corpse. The whole area was awash in red and blue colors now.

"Man, we didn't, he, the road, he was running out, couldn't do anything." The guy had trouble making a legitimate sentence. The woman was crying on her friends' shoulders. They had come out to comfort her. To be fair, that trauma wasn't for those overworlders, but he couldn't control it. He'd make sure they got great karma after that night. He had to.

"Sign."

He heard the sound and saw the paper in front of him. He signed off on it. One down. He was the easiest one. Afraid of bugs and screaming for his life everywhere. It was easy to see which one to pick off first. He never even needed to get in that dorm of his, it just took a misplaced night class. The screams. Deserved it. Panicked, desperate to escape. Deserved it all. Even at the ending, when he thought he finally got away. Deserved it. Deserved it all.

They all deserved it. Every one of them. They'd all pay for it.

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Underworld: The Roadhouse

"Yeah, no, it's great." Lydia clapped politely as she watched Ginger the Tapdancing Spider . . . tapdance. Again. "Great performance again."

"The more I practice, the better I am," Ginger insisted.

Yep. Meanwhile, Beetlejuice was away again. She tried not to worry about that. After all, he wanted to keep her safe so he wouldn't leave her alone, but he needed to get out and live his life too. It was fair. It was nice to have Ginger to talk to and watch, but at the same time, she had missed her old times. Her friends when she was alive. Nothing ever felt like it could replace them. Maybe when she got better, she would try to get out and make new friends. Making a new beginning for herself could do a lot of good.

"Hey, hey, hey, I am home!" Beetlejuice entered unexpectedly with a huge box of pizza. He laid it in front of Lydia. "I brought supper for you."

Lydia looked at it. It looked like normal pizza, but it probably had something added to it. Beetlejuice was really good at doing it covertly though. Even the taste was always perfect, like the food she used to eat. "Looks great."

"Tastes great too I bet."  Beetlejuice looked toward Ginger. He held up a finger toward her.

Lydia noticed that the action strangely made Ginger excited. Why? "What's the finger for?"

"Aw, nothing. You'll learn when you're older," he teased her. "Later, Ginger."

Ginger didn't even say goodbye, she just scuttled off as fast as possible. Lydia took her first slice. "I was wondering if you'd make it before dinnertime." Yep, Beetlejuice picked up a slice of his own and started to dig in.

"Sorry about that," Beetlejuice apologized. "Had to shimmy shake the ingredients just right. Not everyone's as great at eating like me." It was almost a boast, but not quite. There was definitely something to it. "A crunch on good food to the wrong kind of person might make them see the wrong kind of light."

Lydia stopped a moment. For a second, she could have sworn she felt . . . something. Not quite right. Beetlejuice was fun, he was angry at times, and he did get sad but didn't like to show it either. That feeling was different than from what she just felt. Not only that, but usually his jokes made a sort of sense. She didn't get what he just said. "Are you alright?"

"You bet, Lyds," Beetlejuice answered, taking a big bite. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You seemed a little different just then," Lydia noted. "You feeling okay?"

"The greatest."

Simple words. Lydia should believe them. Yet, at the same time? Beetlejuice just felt a little . . . Relax. You don't know what he's been up to. Maybe he went through something big and he doesn't want to worry you. That's all. Still. He seemed. Just a smidge. Just the tiniest. Just something just felt . . .

evil about him.