The Dorm That Laughs at Night

In the quiet town of Willowbrook, nestled among ancient oaks and winding pathways, lay the University of Willowbrook, a campus known for its picturesque grounds and rigorous academic standards. One such dormitory, Dorm 13, had long been whispered about with a mix of fear and intrigue. Its walls were adorned with tales of restless spirits and unexplained phenomena, but it was a new group of freshman that would soon encounter the true terror of Dorm 13.

The dormitory, a sprawling building of red brick and dark windows, had been built in the early 1900s, a time when the campus was young and the world was on the cusp of great change. Over the years, Dorm 13 had seen countless students come and go, each leaving their mark on the building's long, eerie history.

On the night of their first orientation, the freshmen gathered in the common room, their excitement tinged with nervous anticipation. They were told about the dorm's lore, but few believed the stories to be more than just campfire tales. That was until the laughter began.

The first sound was a distant chuckle, faint and unsettling. It echoed through the hallways, causing a shiver to run down the spines of the students. They dismissed it as a trick or a misunderstanding, but as the night wore on, the laughter grew louder, more insistent.

"I heard it again," whispered Emily, her voice trembling as she clutched her blanket. "It's right outside my door."

Her roommate, Alex, exchanged a worried glance with the others. They had all heard it now, the sound of laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It was as if the dormitory itself was laughing at them.

Determined to find the source, they ventured into the halls, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. They searched room by room, their voices echoing in the empty spaces, but the laughter followed them, an unseen companion that would not be shaken off.

"It can't be just us," said Mike, his voice filled with disbelief. "There must be someone else here."

As they pressed on, they found themselves drawn to the second floor, a place where the stories of Dorm 13 were most abundant. They approached Room 213, a door that stood slightly ajar. The laughter seemed to emanate from within, growing more sinister with each step.

They pushed the door open, and a chill swept over them. The room was dark, save for the flickering glow of a single candle. In the center stood a grand piano, its keys out of place and the lid ajar. The laughter seemed to be coming from the instrument itself.

"I'm not alone," whispered a voice, its tone a mix of joy and sorrow. "You have found me."

The students turned, their eyes wide with fear, to see an elderly woman, her eyes sunken and her face marked with the passage of time. She wore a long, flowing dress that seemed to be made of the same material as the walls of the dormitory itself.

"I am the spirit of Dorm 13," she said, her voice a gentle hum. "I have been here for a century, and I have waited for you."

The students exchanged confused glances. The woman continued, "Long ago, a young girl named Clara was banished from this very dormitory. She was innocent, but the people of Willowbrook were not. They cursed her, and she became the laughter that has haunted this place ever since."

The students realized the gravity of their discovery. They were the ones who had to break the curse. They needed to find Clara's resting place and free her spirit from its eternal imprisonment.

Guided by the elderly woman, they followed a trail of whispers and shadows to a secluded garden behind the dormitory. There, in a plot of overgrown flowers, lay Clara's grave. It was marked only by a simple stone, its surface worn away by time.

They began to dig, their hands trembling as they unearthed the remnants of Clara's life. As they uncovered her remains, the laughter grew louder, more desperate. It was as if Clara herself was aware of their efforts.

With great care, they reburied Clara, ensuring that her grave was as it should be. As they stood over her final resting place, the laughter began to fade, replaced by a profound silence.

The students turned back to the dormitory, their hearts heavy but hopeful. They knew that the curse was lifted, but they also knew that the legacy of Dorm 13 would live on.

In the days that followed, the students shared their story with the rest of the campus. The dormitory was no longer haunted by the laughter of a cursed soul, but it remained a place of mystery and wonder. And for those who dared to stay the night, the laughter could still be heard, but it was a different sound now, one of release and peace.

The Dorm That Laughs at Night was more than just a ghost story; it was a tale of redemption and the enduring power of forgiveness. And for the students of Dorm 13, it was a lesson that would stay with them forever.