**The Prologue**
Springwood was a typical, middle-America college town: blooming to life in the fall, before resting quietly each summer as the students disbursed back home again. It was a place with four firm seasons, cleanly delineated across the year. So, as school began in September, autumn began to take hold. It was around this time that whispers could be heard—swirling around the campus —about local legends.
Springwood was richly-steeped in folklore. It was an early settlement, and it carried the weight of time in its tales of strangeness and witchcraft. But Norman Price’s tale was decidedly modern. It was an urban legend that was uniquely wed to Springwood College. He was said to have been a campus employee, his occupation often changing to match whatever gaggle of students did the telling.
Sometimes he was a mechanic, who worked on the school’s old boilers and furnaces. Other times, a gardener, who landscaped the vast grounds. This year, he assumed the position of custodian, primarily working after hours. It was said that he was something of a voyeur, a pervert. He would skulk around the women’s locker rooms—in the gym, near the pool, after volleyball practice—and catch every glimpse he could of the fine, young bodies that washed through. According to the tale, he even drilled a hole in the tile wall of the showers, giving him a prime avenue for spying from a space that ran between the walls.