I got admitted to one of the best liberal arts universities in the country at the time. The kind whose clubs and societies have magazines and research booklets to distribute, who set the rules and became an engagement ground for all students in the city. Events, fests, publications, talks - you name it. I was selected into the only one I applied to - The Midnight Pizza Club.

A little introduction to the Midnight Pizza: it is a horror story-telling club, the meetings are held at midnights. Scary stories in the basement, with pizza and wine. It is an exclusive club: the inductions happen rarely, not every year. Sometimes batches of students pass out and the Midnight Pizza doesn't come out of its hibernation. Well, it is never in hibernation to begin with. I was in my first year when they conducted their inductions. We do not take part in the fests, events or publications. No one is allowed to enter the Midnight Pizza meeting location (room 414 in the basement, where other science and arts labs are, but on the opposite end from them).

The audition was fun. They sent a short film for us to watch, a scary one. One where chopped off limbs come out of the freezer to choker their killer. And we had to retell it to the club members. The rules were simple: retell it theatrically in a way that sets the mood in the performance hall. In a way that dims the brightness of the lights and holds the audience in a chokehold. You didn't have to stick to the story, in fact it would be appreciated if one adds their own creative twist to the story and the storytelling.

Soon enough, Midnight Pizza sent me a letter through the crack of my dorm door. It had the directions to room 414, the date & time of the next meeting, and a request to not tell another student about these details. Everyone knew of the Midnight Pizza, but no one ever spoke of it. 12:00 AM, 17 August. That was the first interaction. It is rather odd thinking back to the first time I ever walked into 414. The basement of our university campus has a lot of rooms: mostly for labs and studios. Which also means there's students almost at any hour of the day. The rooms are well-lit, and most of them are painted our classic classroom colors: beige and dark ivory.

But not 414.

The Midnight Pizza room was unique; elegant. The walls were wooden, so was the floor. The ceiling had columns and rows made out of wood and black & red velvety material. It made it easier for us to hang stuff from there - decorations I mean. There were tiny animal skulls, plastic skeletons, dried pumpkins, and some warm lights hanging from the ceiling. On the opposite wall from the entrance door was a wall full of books and other materials. It was lit just enough so that it wasn't dark, we could read without discomfort. In the middle of the room was a large dark-wood dining table with dark-wood chairs. It can seat about sixteen people, but there were only eight chairs. The head of the table - both the ends - were empty. Each member's place had a dining mat, ceramic plate and a wine glass. This was not what I was expecting, to say the least. I stood at the doorway for a full two to three minutes I am guessing before Tara whistled behind me and said a small 'excuse me'.

I was the only new member that year. And I quickly learned I wasn't wrong to stare at that room for that long. We call it the Midnight Pizza or 414, not the club or something else, because the room itself was part of us, alive with us - the floor, the ceiling, the furniture, the all warm-light lamps. Everything in the room felt like something to take and give energy into. By 12:10 AM, everyone was seated. I did not recognize any other student's face. There were two pizza slices on everyone's plates and the glass was half-filled with white wine.

Then Kaya, a girl with blue streaks in her hair and acrylic-covered jeans, asked me to introduce myself. Her voice was kind and her smile was friendly - everyone's was. I was sitting almost in the middle of the table. I cleared my throat and began, "Hello everyone," the rest seven were looking at me, "I am Ray, a first year Literature student." I did not know what else to say.

Tara, the girl from earlier, smiled and asked me "tell us of the last short story you read!", yes, really with an exclamation like that in her voice.

I took out a book from my tote, "I read Mariana Enriquez's 'No Flesh Over Our Bones'" I said, looking at the book.

Arya's eyes lit up and he said, "I love story collections too."

I was all small talk to get me comfortable. But, as if reading my mind, Kaya explained it was important for us to get to know each other - first with smaller bits of information and then larger. That we were going to be spending a lot of time together, and it was important for us to understand the other. It made sense. It felt like this was the first real interaction I was having in college. The parties, talks, events in the first few weeks were a blur - are a blur.

Arya then said, "Welcome Ray. As you know, we do not often open Midnight Pizza for students to join. It is mostly a matter of luck and brilliant story-telling, and of course, an interest in all things scary and fearful." His smile was that of a tired student's. All of ours were. Most of them were in there third or fourth year of college. Studying Literature, Economics, Political Science or Psychoanalysis. It was a great mix of a student body, I thought. Arya - he was sitting right across me - then continued, "We will start with our story-telling from next meeting onwards. Today is mostly going to be spent sharing experiences and thoughts. We usually plan out six weeks in advance, and we do it together. Who, what, all that kind of stuff"

Then Tara continued, "so for example, we sometimes pick themes for weeks for the story, clowns, haunted houses, abandoned buildings, family - anything. But there's usually a base to it. Sometimes we read existing literature on horror together." Tara also explained that most of the times the members will tell stories on their own, but it can at times be paired.

Arya swallowed the pizza he was chewing and then said, "for your tellings, we want everyone to live through the emotions they're conveying to their audience. Make it lively, bring anything that might aid your story telling, use your voice and body." He smiled big. "We want to be immersed." In one quick motion he then picked up a golden knife I did not see before from the table, and threw it at me like a dart. I had two servings of wine, I could not move fast enough. His smile remained as he threw the knife, aimed right at my chest. I closed my eyes and saw darkness. I felt a hollow pain, an ache, in my chest. A horrible, hot, splitting pain. But then I heard Kaya's voice, "Ray?"

I slowly opened my eyes to find everyone staring at me. I looked down towards my chest. No there wasn't a stab would leaking blood. I then looked behind me, the knife had lodged itself in one of the wooden pillars. I took a deep breath. What's the pain in my chest? May be it is phantom pain. "God Arya, why would you scare Ray like that? What's wrong with you?" Kaya said. She almost sounded angry, but more concerned. I think she was the oldest of all. She has kind eyes.

For the rest of the first session we mostly talked about us, our experiences in life, what attracted us to the dark horror. We all had more pizza and more wine. I remember feeling incredibly happy stepping out of 414. I was the last one to get out I think. I spun around and looked at the white door to enter 414. The white door was identical to all the other ones. Except, the back half of this door was wood. It seemed like 414 almost floated in the basement. I turned and exited the basement.

The rest of the university experience, well, was university experience. I was only thrilled about Midnight Pizza. But I did not know when we meet next. I was hoping I'd see their familiar faces in the hallways or the canteen. Or the lawns. But I never saw them. May be because we were all from different departments. I felt quite lonely. My dorms had double-student accommodations. But my roommate vacated the room in the second week, the same day I'd gone to 414 for the meeting. We were starting to bond a little. But since then I hadn't been assigned a new roommate. I heard the other students through the walls though, and I liked going to poetry and manifesto readings. Those evenings were quite nice. The literature classes were mostly fun. I did not like reading classics.

The letter arrived on the dorm floor: next meeting was to be held on the 12th of September. The pain in my chest remained. Perhaps it was just a coincidence and it was something else. I made a mental note to go to the infirmary that week.

From my college years, especially the early ones, I mostly only remember the Midnight Pizza. 414 started feeling safe, even if not comfortable - because of the kind of stories and how they were being told. I saw members putting in their best effort to bring their stories to life: a house that changed its layouts every night and people never getting out of its maze, a television whose screen reflected things like a mirror - except it replayed every suicide in that room, or a kitchen which turned everything into flesh. It was horrifying, fun and exciting. All of them involved murders, all of them were fantastic. I was waiting my turn, and I had to wait for a long time. Months. Finally, the time came. It is the meeting I remember most vividly. Arya said, "Ray is finally ready for a telling of his own I think." The rest of them nodded and agreed.

Kaya jumped in and said we should do an event-party type of a thing just for ourselves. Since it was the season for university fests all the clubs and societies were doing it. We should hold a party of our own. Tara agreed and then said, "May be Ray can have his first telling on the Midnight Pizza Night!" And so, it was decided. We were changing themes for the next three weeks, and the tellings now were supposed to happen in pairs. And it was to be interrogation/therapy themed. The decisions for the rest of the themes were quite democratic, however for this one Arya set it up all by himself and rest all just went along as if it was what was supposed to happen. I was relieved to have someone to do my first telling with, so I did not butt in to object to it.

My telling partner was Estha. He is mostly quiet, but the silence is filled through his expressions. He has long hair, at least three piercings on each of his ears. In his tellings, he could change from funny to scary in a matter of seconds, and his intimidating voice was actually scary. But apart from that he seemed sweet. He always bought us donuts from his mother's little coffee place in town.

The party was on the 31st of August. It was a week away when I realized I had no way of contacting Estha to practice - to at least write a script. Arya and Kaya had done it the last time, it was phenomenal. Arya looked like he'll piss his pants when Kaya interrogated him about the fingernails found in his drawer. I had to make mine good. It was my first one. It was the party night. I could not mess this up. But I did not know how to get in touch with Estha. He was doing Media Studies so may be there? Estha wasn't a common name. So even though I did not know his last name, it shouldn't be too hard to find him? Right? Right? Turns out I was wrong. Even in our college mail IDs Estha's name wasn't there, may be it was a name he chose over whatever legal name he's admitted into the college with.

I gave up trying. I decided to reach 414 early. It was a party, they must need help with putting up decorations. And may be Estha will come early as well. I was feeling incredibly anxious, I needed that wine. When I reached 414, it was already decorated. Big candles lined the middle of the dinner table, which had a red runner on it now. The ceramic plates were black this time, and the pizza looked gourmet. 414 tonight was lit up only with candlelight. Estha walked in and I stood up, but then so did everyone else behind him. Six of them sat on one side of the dining table, the other side had two chairs. One for Estha, the other for me. Facing one another. It was red wine tonight. My anxiety only heightened looking at this preparation.

We had to go in unprepared. Estha seemed calm and happy as usual. He'd done many tellings for Midnight Pizza before but it was going to be my first one.

Estha looked at me. It was time to begin. He spoke first. "Ray, I am happy to see you. How have the past few weeks here been? Have the meetings been helpful?" So I was in some sort of a recovery home? And I was the one being interrogated. Great. So I had to push the story forward.

"Lonely." I was surprised to hear myself. I had said the word, but it felt like I was on autopilot. May be because I'd actually been feeling lonely and had been itching for someone to ask me that question. "The years have been lonely." I touched my neck. Yes, my mouth was moving, the sounds were from me.

"And Ray, do you know why you're here? Why you're meeting me?" Estha was staring at my soul. His eyes were darker than usual. In the warm light it appeared teal. A shadow passed through his eyes. And I snapped back.

My chest reminded me of the pain. Of my first day here. "Because I am crazy?" I scoffed. What was I doing? "I don't know, doc, why don't you tell me why I'm here?" My voice was rude, arrogant. But it was also as if I myself was listening to the story as a part of the audience.

Estha looked at a notebook he was holding, a prop to make the interrogation/therapy/whatever more real. "How has your anxiety been Ray?"

At that, my heart started beating faster. I could feel my expression change. From challenging to a tired one. "It makes me feel like I'm not Ray. It makes me not whole. Opposite of whole." I was starting to feel nervous. I wanted my anxiety SOS pills. May be more wine, though? I finished the little I had in my glass. Estha took my glass and filled it again.

"Let's play a game. I brought this for our session." He pulled out a small standing wooden statue from his bag. It had a marble, and a slope across the statue for the marble to role in. Estha continued, "We will go over your love for cooking. Specifically the time you were making that mushroom curry, and wanted to squeeze lime juice on the chutney." He looked at me.

"Okay." I said.

"And every time marble hits the stone here," he pointed at the statue's hands where the slop ended and began, "you will restart the story. The same one. From the beginning."

"Fun." I said, with the most numb face I could pull. Why was I doing this? I gulped more wine. I was feeling slow now. But I was talking. I realized I was talking. "People were going to come over. I was cutting up the salad. And was preparing to plate the dishes, including the chutney." I paused for a while looking at my wine glass.

Estha asked, "were you alone in the house?"

"Yes, I was. The backyard I think wasn't. But it was quiet still." The marble hit the stone with a dull sound. It really was a beautiful sound in that quiet, dark room.

"Restart." Estha announced.

"People were coming over to my house, lots. And I was nervous." Estha cut me off before I could begin my next sentence.

"And what were you nervous about?"

I thought about where to take the story. I was feeling very slow by then. But I was again already speaking. "Oh, so many things. But mainly the number of people. Three families. They were going to be all over my home. And so, I was doing kitchen chores to fill my empty time." I waited for him to say something, but he kept staring at me. "So I brought out the limes. I cut the tomatoes and the onions first, and decorated the chutney bowl with the rings." The marble hit the stone.

This time Estha didn't need to tell me to restart.

"I was going to be playing host for the party this time. And I was anxious about it. Very anxious. I kept looking at everything in my house. I had my anxiety pills and began working on setting the table." I paused to drink but my mouth didn't want to stop talking. "I was cutting up vegetables for salad and garnish. Tomatoes, onions, limes, they were all on my counter."

Estha interrupted after what seemed like forever. "What can you see apart from your kitchen?"

"The kitchen window opens out to my backyard. No no no I do not want to see it, I shut it." I was feeling anxious again. My heart sped up, my palms were sweaty, and my legs were bouncing. Estha had his serious face on, and looking at it gave me no relief even if it was the familiar face. At that moment it wasn't. His eyes reflected me, and something kept passing me. I looked down. "Onions, I cut them after the tomatoes, I love cutting vegetables."

Marble and stone. Rewind.

It was giving me more and more anxiety to start the story again and again and again. I did not want to hear the marble and stone again. My throat had a lump. "Three families were coming over to my house. I was anxious about them going all over my little home. I had cleaned it the best possible way, and locked my bedroom door so that no one enters it. Can't do anything about the backyard." I was still looking down. "Tomatoes, onions and limes were giving me company, holding my anxiety at bay as I cut through them for salad and taste. Tomatoes first, then onions. I placed a few rings around the chutney." I suddenly stopped. It surprised me.

"You always mention the lime but you never talk about it. Tell us about cutting through, and squeezing it into the chutney." Estha was looking at me intently, but all I could focus on was the word 'us'. He said 'us'.

I realized I was crying. My cheeks were wet, my eyelashes heavy, my nose watering a bit. "I don't want to cut the lime." I said. Then, "I don't know if the juice color will be its usual transparent one." I cried.

Estha said "What can it be instead?" I realized he'd stopped the marble right before it was going to hit the stone.

"Red. What if it's red. Lime felt too similar." I was heaving. "Too similar."

Estha filled the silence, "but you did squeeze the lemon into the chutney right?"

I was crying so hard now that I couldn't speak. Even I could barely make out what I said next, "The chutney is red now."

Estha let go of the marble, it hit the stone. My crying turned into terror's wailing and that was the last thing I remember. I must have passed out.

I was in my empty dorm room when I woke up. In the warmth of my own blanket. There was a letter on the floor. I quickly hopped out of the bed to pick it up before going back in. It read: "Your telling was one of the best so far! From next time, though, we will keep a check on your alcohol consumption ;-) - 414"

This was twelve years ago. I have to go get ready for my class now. Second year literature basics suck! The next meeting is tonight, though. So I'm looking forward to that! We have twelve members now. We've kept the spirits of Midnight Pizza up through the years!