
The Waving Figure
By Michael Abram Sr

27 Nov, 2023

The storm was rolling in from the west, rapidly turning the evening into a pitch-black night. I was on my way home, crossing the Whipple Bridge inside of the State Museum when I noticed a peculiar sight.

Inside the NCAA building, through a window, I saw a figure waving back and forth. It was strange because the building was supposed to be empty at this hour.

I decided to investigate. Leaving the bridge, I made a left through the Institutional Achievement doors and moved towards the conference room by the Canal Terrace.

I reached the window and peered through the blinds. The room was empty. I was shocked. I had seen someone there just moments ago.

As the thunder boomed, I looked again. The figure was there, waving slower this time. Was it a call for help or just a trick of the light?

I had been alone on duty that Monday night. The only company I had was the house music playing in the museum, a slow, eerie jazz score performed by Billie Holiday.

I tried to turn on the lights, but they did not work. I presumed the storm was the culprit, which only added to the building tension.

As I looked through the blinds again, the figure was still there, waving with a hauntingly slow rhythm. The storm outside seemed to mirror my growing unease.

I decided to approach the figure. I carefully opened the door and looked outside of the room. The figure was nowhere to be found.

I looked around the room, but there was no sign of anyone. I felt a chill run down my spine as the mystery of the waving figure deepened.

Suddenly, the door behind me slammed shut. I turned around, startled. Was it the wind or was there someone else in the room?

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I was trapped inside the room with the unknown. The situation was turning into a nightmare.

I looked around the room once again, desperately searching for any signs of the figure. But it was as if it had never been there.

The storm outside was now at its peak. The thunder was deafening, and the lightning illuminated the room in bright, terrifying flashes.

I tried to calm myself and think logically. There had to be a way out of this room, and I had to find it before the situation escalated further.

I started checking the room systematically. I looked under the furniture, inspected the walls, and even checked the ceiling. But there was no way out.

Just when I was about to lose hope, I noticed something peculiar. There was a draft coming from one of the walls.

I rushed towards the wall and started inspecting it. After a few moments, I found a hidden door. I pushed it open and found myself in a hallway.

Relieved to be out of the room, I started moving down the hallway. But the mystery of the waving figure was still unresolved.

I decided to explore the building further, hoping to find some answers. I moved through the corridors, each more eerie than the last.

Eventually, I reached an office. On the desk, I found a photograph. It was of a man, whose face seemed eerily familiar.

I realized with a jolt, the man in the photo was the same one I had seen waving in the window. But how was that possible?

I looked around the office and found a diary. As I started reading, I realized that the man in the photo had worked here decades ago.

The diary entries revealed that the man had been trapped in the building during a storm similar to the one tonight. He had died waiting for help.

The realization hit me hard. The waving figure was the spirit of the man, repeating his last moments in a desperate plea for help.

Overwhelmed by the revelation, I left the office. The storm had subsided, and the building seemed less menacing now.

As I finally stepped outside, I looked back at the window. The figure was no longer there. It was as if the storm had taken it away.

I resumed my duty the next day, but the memory of the waving figure stayed with me. It was a reminder of the past that had lived within these walls.

I often look up at that window, half-expecting to see the figure again. But it never appears. I think the storm finally gave him the peace he deserved.

The experience taught me that every building has a story, and sometimes, those stories reach out to us in the most unexpected ways.