Horror Story: The Oven

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“You have dreams sometimes about finding yourself splayed out on the Claremont sidewalk again, shivering and sweaty.”

Bwog’s month of Halloween continues! This time, Claremont Queen Rachel Deal brings you a horror story (loosely) based on her experiences with the oven in her suite.

It started when your suitemate tried to make a Trader Joe’s frozen pizza. She turned on the oven, slid in the pizza–a few minutes later, you all felt like you were moving in slow motion. You could hear the sound of the fire alarm pushing through the suffocating syrupy air. The next thing you can remember is that you woke up on the Claremont sidewalk, rain drizzling onto your pajamas. It happens whenever you turn on your oven.

“Something’s wrong with the oven,” you say on the phone to Facilities. “Whenever we turn it on, the fire alarm goes off, and the air feels thick, and then…”

“And then what?” the man on the phone asks.

“And then…well, I can’t remember,” you say. Your forehead feels tight with confusion. “I just…it’s like I wake up outside and I don’t know how I got there.” You try to remember having left the building, and your body feels sticky, like you’ve been walking through fog.

Facilities begrudgingly sends someone over to check it out. The man opens up the oven, turns it on, and…nothing. The air is still, the suite quiet. You stare at the oven expectantly, and the man stares at you.

“There’s something wrong,” you say. “I promise. When we turn the oven on, it’s like everything stops….and then somehow I end up outside.” The man from Facilities raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says. “If the smell of the oven is bothering you, you can get an exhaust fan from Hartley.”

You don’t get the exhaust fan from Hartley, because who wants to carry an exhaust fan all the way from Hartley to Claremont? You avoid the oven, locking yourself in your room when one of your suitemates feels the need to bake cookies or something. You have dreams sometimes about finding yourself splayed out on the Claremont sidewalk again, shivering and sweaty.

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  1. Anonymous  

    people used to comment on bwog articles :/

  2. Anonymous  

    is it just me does that picture up there make this piece sound like it starts on a really terribly thought out holocaust joke?

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