Her name was Condie Cunningham.

She died about a century ago in Main Hall. Many say she still remains.

The classic legend says that perched upon her room on top of the Falcon's Nest while dressed in a silk robe, she was cooking fudge when the lights out call came. In a rush to extinguish the flame, her robe caught fire and she rushed screaming to the top of the grand staircase, where she then fell to her death. Her anguished face was burned onto the grain of the door, which was eventually replaced with one of metal.

But a legend whispered among students on campus tells a story much less dramatic.

The southern hall of Main (where I was staying that summer) was the oldest in the building. It was here, just a few doors down, where the only room in the building with a steel door was. And it sat in front of an old staircase. It was in this less extravagant area where they say her demise happened.

We never really realized the proximity of this legend until one night, seated with friends in my room, she made herself known.

I took a quick swig of beer and laid down my card. I looked at my watch to see midnight. I smiled at my friends and said, "Anybody want any fudge?"

We all laughed before a friend said, "How about an open flame?"

The last guy there started to say, "And a door..." when he was interrupted by the sudden sound of water rushing nearby. My room was right next to the bathroom, so we immediately knew what it was.

Steam rushed out at us as we opened the heavy door to the room. Steam hung heavily above us as sweat erupted from our skin. We looked into the first shower stall. Although there was no one in there, the knob was turned up, full blast, on hot.

The boiling water slapped against my skin as I reached in to turn it off. But there was no way to reach the knob without scalding myself. My friends checked all of the other stalls. They were all the same.

Soon the steam had engulfed our bodies as we stood there sweaty, hot, and confused.

And frightened.

I had heard stories of these bathrooms. Screams would suddenly erupt from one stall. Upon investigation, the person would find the stall empty. But that night, when the walls and doors disappeared into the haze, the shadows became more visible.

We made our ways hastily toward the doors, still none of us fully recognizing what was going on. We opened the heavy wooden door as cool air greeted our sweat soaked bodies. We entered the hallway as the steam followed us in almost a ghostly wave. But it disappeared into the air.

We reentered the relative safety of my dorm room. Although the beer was a little warmer, we all drank readily. Just then, as the first breath escaped our lips but before the first word was spoken, all at once, the rushing of water stopped.

We respected the legend of Condie after that, as well as her presence in the building. We never joked about her again.