Stevens has been in an uproar since the stunning realization that the as-of-yet unopened University Center towers are dreadfully, hair-raisingly, nail-bitingly, seat-twistingly, head-achingly, stomach-churningly, spine-chillingly haunted.
Beginning on October 1 and escalating steadily for the rest of the month, a wide host of strange and frightening paranormal phenomena have plagued the new buildings and the surrounding area.
Balls of fire, menacing glowing eyes, and nebulous apparitions have materialized in windows before vanishing just as quickly, while mysterious preternatural noises without a distinguishable source have grown in frequency and volume. Dozens of students claimed to have been accosted by ghouls and goblins of unprecedented ghastliness while wandering the grounds around the towers at night. At regular intervals on most days, one can hear the blood-curdling screeches of tormented souls emanating from the upper floors, disturbances which are frequently punctuated by the unnerving singing of unseen children and the ethereal rattling of bones.
“I’ve given up on sleeping,” said one freshman who lives on the northern side of Davis.
The events have been placing heavy stress on the project’s construction crew. Workers entering the building reported becoming trapped for days in sinuous, architecturally grotesque passages which typically lead to either dead-ends or alternate dimensions. Doors make loud, unsettling creaks no matter how recently they were cleaned and oiled, and the towers’ elevators tend to suddenly plunge or rocket up dozens of stories without warning, often to floors that don’t exist. Windows are appearing bloodstained and broken each morning faster than workers are able to repair them, and the thick cobwebs forming knee-deep in every room and corridor are becoming major fire-safety hazards.
“No electricity will function in the building anymore,” revealed an exasperated worker to a Stute reporter, before pausing to allow an abrupt chorus of maniacal laughter, which seemed to come from all directions, to subside. “We have to go in with nothing but flickering candles and the peripheral light from the Stevens sign, which is still on despite receiving no known source of power.”
Portions of the walkway leading between the Howe building and the new towers were being repaved to reduce instances of the living dead tearing through the asphalt and seizing passing students by the ankles.
In the meantime, most pedestrians have been observed taking a wide loop around central campus to get between the dining hall and the academic buildings, with many citing fewer zombies as the primary motivator.
When asked if the spiritual activity would affect his decision to live in one of the towers, one student said, “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen in Humphreys.”
Stevens administrators have been scrambling to find an explanation for the repulsively spooky occurrences and vowed to launch a thorough investigation. Despite the chaos of the last few weeks, a statement from the Division of Facilities and Campus Operations maintained that “uncooperative, malevolent spooks” will not delay the opening of the complex before the next semester, while warning students and staff not to approach any person or thing that appears “even remotely undead and/or metaphysical.”
At press time, a University statement denied any connection between the haunting and the complex’s construction on the site of an ancient Indian burial ground.
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