ultimate inter

Memoirs from a Minivan: Part 1

Let me introduce myself Amelia Green-Vamos, through the way I best know how to express myself: Words! When I was 15 my family decided to sell everything pack up and move to support my brother’s hockey….this is my story!


Wenatchee, Washington: August 26, 2006  11:32 AM PT

I sit in our family’s road battered mini-van, my head resting against the window.  I glance outside, unable to discern the time of day.  I close my eyes, leaning back I attempt to find a comfortable position.  I mull over the events of the past days. Everything I have ever called my own has been packed away in cardboard boxes and hefty garbage bags, exiled to a dusty storage unit.  All of my swimming trophies, cello recital tapes, and report cards must now rely on moths as their only caretakers.  Only one box and one trash bag has made the journey with me.  We have driven for a week straight from a suburb in Tennessee to our destination, a town in British Columbia, Canada.  The ride may be scenic, but it has not been leisurely thanks to the hockey bags, cello, and half eaten granola bars obstructing my leg room.  The journey has given me an opportunity to prepare for my new life, and reminisce about the life I had known.  Selling our house had not been easy;The home where I had first learned about Boston College, the bedroom where I would read past midnight promising myself “just one more page”, where I had learned to play cello, practicing till my fingers callused.  Most difficult of all, was leaving behind the life I had imagined for myself.  However, as I move closer to my new home, new school, and new life I somehow feel I am not leaving anything behind…. TO BE CONTINUED!

*Property of this tumblr Amelia for Under Armour and the author 

Spoopy Storytime, Part 3

The Blue Nun

I personally never had an experience with the Blue Nun. Not a physical, she’s-in-my-room-holy-fuck experience. But I knew she was around. Here are some stories, one of which I’m not sure was her.

1. In one of my lit classes we were discussing folklore and ghost stories around Halloween. A guy who’d lived in my dorm for a year mentioned that on his first night in residence, he had a dream that there was a nun floating outside of his window, banging her fists on it yelling “no men! Get out get out get out you’re not allowed in here!” In his dream, he sat up and blinked, then suddenly she was in his room, floating above him just staring with hollow eyes. In a flash, she’s got her hands around his throat and she’s still shrieking about not allowing men in the dorm and how he has to leave. He’s trying to pry her hands off and as he’s about to pass out from lack of air, he wakes up, bolt-upright in bed.
With bruises forming on his neck.

2. A friend of mine came home from the bar one night, knocked over her shoe rack and drunkenly thought “fuck it i’ll deal with that tomorrow”. When she woke up and rolled over, her shoe rack was upright and all of her shoes were neatly arranged on it once again. She would also see her desk chair move itself around the room randomly. Apparently this was the calling card of the Blue Nun if she liked you.

3. Another friend had an early text-to-voice/voice to text program on her computer. It rarely worked properly so she uninstalled it. One night at about 3AM, she was woken up by a very loud, very robotic computer voice. She left to crash on a floor a few doors down and when she got back to her room, her computer was on, the text to voice program was open and there was a garbled bunch of letters and words on the screen. 
She wouldn’t tell me what any of it said. But she slept with a light on for the rest of the year.

4. I lived in the same dorm and room for my second year, and so did a few of my friends. One night after dinner I was in my room reading and I was continuously distracted by people running up and down the hall upstairs. Newf popped her head in my door.
“G I’m gonna lose my jesus mind. Them friggin’ frosh are tearin’ around up there like it’s gym class.”
“Yeah same dude. Let’s go up and talk to Lindsay (the RA) and see if she can get them in line.”
We go up the short flight of stairs and emerge into….an entirely dark hallway. No one was there. The hallway lights were off, all the doors were closed and there was a note on the RA’s messageboard saying they were gone for a floor dinner and then to a movie and they’d be back late.
“Ok fine maybe it was someone from Marg running around” I suggested.
We trek over and ask our friends, but there’s only about 10 people on the floor. Most are gone to an inter-house ultimate frisbee game. No one’s seen anyone run by.
Newf and I go back downstairs, slightly unnerved.We go to our respective rooms and immediately the noise starts again. Footsteps, running noises and now a steady knocking on the ceiling above me AND in Newf’s room.

5. This story really sticks with me. I knew the girl it happened to and she was not one to make things up or embellish details.
This girl (I’ll call her Lucy) lived in Gilmora on the floor with the balcony the nun flung herself off. Lucy got out of her last class of the day a bit early and decided she was going to have a nap before dinner. She got to her room, unlocked the door, closed it over (didn’t shut it entirely or lock it) and went to crash on her bed.
She dozed off pretty quickly and woke up about an hour later with the feeling of someone pushing down on her shoulders. As she fought to wake up and sit up, she realized that there was a raspy voice whispering a string of numbers repeatedly and a ghostly white hand tapping on her bedside table.
Being from one of the more superstitious towns in Cape Breton, she had been taught as a child that if she encountered a spirit you must ask it “What in God’s name do you want of me” (specifically that because invoking God would send away a bad spirit). She fought off the pressure keeping her down, managed to sit up and tried to get the phrase out. Fear overwhelmed her as she tried to say it, listen to the numbers from this increasingly louder, raspier voice and watch the hand vigorously knocking. She managed to say it a few times, in her mind. Suddenly the hand slammed down against the table. The voice went silent for 3 seconds and then:
“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT” the voice was now a roar.
She jumped off her bed and ran to the door only to find it completely shut and locked. Fumbling with the lock, she got it unlocked after a few tries and ran into the hallway, yelling. Her neighbour across the hall looked up at the commotion and also saw a hand in the room. It formed a fist, dealt one final blow to the table, and then vanished.