From Megan DuBois ’15
Upon returning to campus after the most recent break, there was an eerie sense of conspiracy looming in the antiquated corridors of Shumway Hall. Gazing towards the Admissions’ reception area, students were enticed and terrified by a bloody, ominous glow seeming to radiate from the sacred ground. Although I am a frequent inhabitant of the Red Carpet, I kept my distance from the distorted terrain, and I watched, one by one, as each of my friends conceded to the hypnotizing force despite my inhibitions and protestations.
They were lured in by the friendly plushness and intoxicated by the new softness, but the pull of luxury would not fool me. Countless victims, teachers and students alike, were sucked into the trap of first sitting on the benches, then transitioning into a seated position on the carpet, only to accept defeat when overcome by the overwhelming sense of drowsiness and comfort directly supplied by the mystical Red Carpet. Others took just one step into the plush, voluminous depths of the carpeting and sank like they were standing in quicksand, unable to relinquish the carpet’s grasp on their shoes and their sanity.
Some victims have reverted to a mesmerized state of calmness and drowsiness; unfortunately, they appear to have little will power to fight the allure of the comfy, new carpet. Those poor souls; legend has it that some of them are still being held captive by its elusive powers to this very day. Will they ever break the spell and make it to class?
Only time will tell …