We don’t envy the poor guy who’s ghostwriting The Real Life Longwood.  Powerful stuff he’s putting out —  but at what cost?

He spends the day in a bunker, a Cold War bomb shelter hundreds of feet beneath Lankford Student Union.  He has foregone a regular office — he must have perfect concentration, horrible silence.

This is his routine:  he climbs down the ladder at seven in the morning, sits at his desk and stares at his typewriter.  He takes a potato and a plastic knife out of his jacket.  He peels the potato and eats it slowly.  Crisp and tangy, a muted apple.

At eight, a basket is lowered down the hatch.  The basket says “Violeta.”  The ghostwriter closes his eyes, and puts his fingers on the typewriter’s cold, wet keys.  Violeta.  He types without knowing:

Being a senior is great! I have more time to relax with my friends knowing that I am almost done! Last Thursday, two friends and I went bowling and had SUCH a blast! The local bowling alley also happens to be the place I work, so let’s just say that I am working on my game. : ) There was good music, good food, and good times! Unfortunately, let’s just say that none of us got over 70. Yikes! Lol The only other thing that has happened is that our senior class officers are trying hard to put up some really fun activities. On Friday, there was the Senior Luau. It was SO much FUN! There was tons of fruit and food and punch to drink. It was nice to relax and have some fun with friends. My boyfriend (whom is also a senior) is the Senior Class Treasurer, so he was there. I got to meet the class President, whom I didn’t know, so it was nice to put a face to a name. Also, as Vice President of the Federation of Student Social Workers, I am working on a raffle. Counting money and keeping track of tickets keeps me busy. I am just so happy that we have raised much money for FSSW to have a small get together to welcome our freshmen and transfers. Can’t wait to see who wins!:D

Deep breath.  The ghostwriter leans back in his chair.  It is finished.  He rips the page from the typewriter, places it in the basket, tugs the rope twice, and watches the basket rise swiftly and silently to the world above.

Soon it will be lowered back down, this time with another name.  Will it be “Cameron?”  ”Jordan?”  The ghostwriter does not know.

He leans forward and places his head on the desk.  When will it end?  He has had several other offers, but he cannot leave this job.  He never stops what he starts.  What has he gotten himself into?

The basket descends.  The label reads “Luke.”

The ghostwriter places his fingers on the keys.  His marrow is magnified.  He writhes.  He writes:

It all started last Friday! OKTOBERFEST! Here is how it all broke down. At 3 o clock I walked into my Social Research methods class dressed head to toe as Superman! I was repping RED CLASS (those who graduate on an even year (2010)) and I was pumped for brutal battle in COLOR WARS!

Color wars is just that – a war between the red class and the green class (odd years). Everyone, I mean everyone, meets on Iller Field, which is right behind the fabulous D Hall; red on one side, Green on the other.

There are a few “spirit leaders” that have the awesome job of getting everyone excited and pumped up, ready to go and kick some (red or green) a$! There are a few mini games before the battle royal begins. A tug a war, a over-under game with paint, and a new one this year using your bodies to create the rotunda (Longwood’s symbol) but after this-IT’S ON!!

He wakes from his trance, laying on the floor.  How did he get there?  He climbs back into his chair, legs shaking.  He cannot lift his hands to the typewriter.  He will finish it later.  His soul — it is gone.  All on the page.

He weeps.