Scaring Students Stupid (Not to be confused with scaring stupid students)

Last evening was great fun! It was then that the RA's put on a Ghost Tour for any students who wished to join. Here in town it is a great tourist thing for people to pay big bucks for an evening program in which they have a guide with a lantern lead them around and tell them ghost stories associated with various historic buildings in the area. Last year during the summer program some students signed up for one of these. But again, it is a signficant outlay of money to do so. This year we hosted it ourselves for free. Some RA's did research on various ghost legends and other creepyish tales, bought citronella candles, drew out maps, assigned guides, appointed storytellers, and voila, we had our own ghost tour.

We broke the students up into three groups of about fifteen each for this after-dark event. A guide (i.e., one of us) then led them around with a candle to various historic spots, and at each place another RA told them a story. I was appointed to tell a tale at an elementary school.

My story went like this. In the 1960s the school was integrated for the first time, to great opposition. Two African-American boys went missing one day. A couple days later someone thought they saw some shapes in the dormer windows of the school's attic. A search was made up there, where they found furniture arranged like a court room. Next to the court room were the boys, hanging dead from the rafters. Their faces were painted white. Although it is suspected that the school janitor, a staunch segregationist, might have killed the boys, he was never brought to trial. No one was ever convicted of the murders. It is suspected that the janitor might have lured them up there, tried them for integration, then carried out their execution. Since that time, people have said that late at night they can see shapes in the windows. Also, students occasionally hear noises from the attic, like children playing and laughing. And school administrators have said that they have found the furniture mysteriously rearranged to look like a courtroom.

With this framework for the story, I was left to embellish as I felt to, and to present however I wanted. I took great pleasure in this liberty, adding a part about the myesterious laugh the janitor gave when questioned about his role, and demonstrating it for them all. And I told the story in as dramatic a fashion as possible, in as scary a voice as I could manage. The students appreciated this, I think, as the other story tellers didn't seem to go for the dramatic flair approach. With my story they were seeing a side of Iron Fist they were unaccustomed to seeing, weaving a tale of murder, mystery, and mass hysteria.

In addition, I managed to arrange a little pre-story surprise for all three of the tours that came my way. This is how it worked. Right before me another guy gave a story in his spot, next to a certain wall. His story was set in the 1920s. Back then, a young couple went to jump this wall at night, which is kind of a tradition with some students around here. Being the gentleman he was, he went first in order to help her over after him. He waited, but she never appeared. Finally he went back over to find her throat slit. An insane man from a nearby asylum had escaped. Apparently he committed the murder, having lurked in the nearby bushes before attacking the unsuspecting lady. Over the years following several other maidens met a similarly untimely demise in the same fashion, next to the wall, supposedly by the same man who continued to hide out in the nearby bushes.

After hearing this story, the students were led by candlelight on a narrow path through a wooded area. In the darkness it was a downright creepy area, complemented on occasion by the hoot of an owl, or some such nocturnal creature. Here it was that I set up for the Big Scare. Before each group came, I left my candle on one side of the path, and with cat-like tread moved into position about fifteen feet on the other side of it. I put on a dark hooded rain jacket, despite the moderate evening temperature, just to look a bit more scary. After each group started to pass, I rushed out of the woods with a blood curdling scream. Well, at least as blood curdling as a guy can manage. For a couple of the groups I yelled out something about young maiden's throats. And for the last group I added what I thought was a nice touch, that of dancing about a bit like a madman.

The reactions were splendid. I freaked out a good number in each group. The last one's response was especially delicous, with several deafening screams. One girl told me after that she thought for a second that I actually was a madman, and not just an RA attempting to scare her. According to her it was one of the most frightening moments in her life. Other girls were similarly scared. And one guy admitted that he also was a bit scared. (This is a highschooler mind you. Such an admission from a young man is rare!)

During the last time I told the story, one girl had to leave. Apparently I made her cry and freaked her out a lot. I felt bad about that, but then learned that she had cried to a lesser degree at some of the other stories as well. So apparently she had issues that were not entirely my fault. Regardless, it did little to dampen the overall feeling of pleasure I had in once again entertaining (or freaking out) a crowd.