Something is happening to me. I don’t know who to tell — it feels like I can’t trust anyone in the dorm. But something is very, very wrong. 

It all started last week: I went to dinner at Tower Court for the first time, uninspired by Lulu and looking for a change of pace. I had a plate of some very strange, very gray lamb. Though I didn’t think much of it at the time, something sinister was afoot. Throughout the whole night, I passed a mysterious, sulfurous gas. It filled my room like a fog, becoming so thick that I couldn’t open my eyes without them watering. My roommate said that it was “my farts,” but I know what I saw. Or rather, smelled. I smelled the putrid, decaying scent of something inhuman. I smelled the stench of a hellish, untamed beast. I smelled the rotting flesh of Satan.

Though I tried all night to shake the fears clouding my mind, I could not ignore the second sign that the Devil sent. The very next day, He, once again, made His presence known. I spotted a group of people at Steps, enjoying the fruits of Satan’s garden; they were smoking the Devil’s Lettuce. A girl in the group, filled by His unholy spirit, rose from the ground. She was obviously possessed by the Devil himself, and began screaming, “Is this the thanks that I get for puttin’ you bitches on? / Is it my fault that all of you bitches gone? / Should’ve sent a thank-you note, you little ho / Now I’ma wrap your coffin with a bow.” 

Lucifer was using a human vessel to communicate his frustrations with me. It was terrifying. I screamed and ran away, determined to try anything that could sever the tie between us. I threw myself off the side of Death Hill, screaming all the way down the 10,000 feet drop — yet, somehow, I magically survived. It was Him. He was watching over me. 

My neighbors, the Satan worshippers, have begun practicing dark magic. Last night, I smelled incense and heard their occult chants. Their voices seeped through the walls, repeating, “Rah, rah, like a dungeon dragon, RAH, RAH, LIKE A DUNGEON DRAGON!”

My life is plagued by these strange happenings. From that very first night, the Devil has been with me. He had laid his eggs in a sacrificial lamb, slayed the poor creature, and then sold it to AVI Fresh. He watched as they prepared the food, watched as I consumed his seed, and now continues to watch as it grows ripe in my belly.

My name is Rosemary, I am a first-year student here at Wellesley, and I am carrying the spawn of Satan. This has been my confession.