Scarier than first choice language
Professor Chris Essert and Professor Anthony Niblett, and Dean Jutta Brunnée
It’s that time of year again—when the leaves turn, the wind howls through the hallways, and strange sounds echo from deep within the stacks of library books. You know the ones. Is it just the squeaky floorboards of Falconer? The looming shadow of exams? The haunted stare of a sleep-deprived 1L who’s forgotten what daylight looks like? Or… is it something deeper—something far more insidious?
In the spirit of the spookiest month of the year, I wandered the halls of the Faculty of Law, determined to collect the scariest stories lurking within. Buckle up, because the Faculty has its own horrors, and they’re scarier than forgetting to submit your paper on time.
Angela Fernandez
There’s a story about Pierson v. Post that’s haunted the Faculty for years. Legend has it, any student who digs too deep into the case starts hearing faint scratching sounds—like claws on wood. The case itself is about a hunter who chased a fox, only to have a saucy intruder swoop in and claim it. But some say the case was never really settled.
Every so often, a law student swears they hear that same fox, still out there, scratching, waiting for someone to finally close the case.
The Locker Thief: The Metal Dome That Knows
I used to be unstoppable—sneaking around, stealing whatever I could from those lockers. But ever since U of T put up that metal security dome, I can’t sleep. Every night, I hear the hum of the cameras, the creak of the metal walls. The posters everywhere… “We are watching.”
I can’t even get close anymore. I tried once, but the moment I stepped in, I froze. It’s like the dome’s watching me back. I’m terrified, but I can’t stop. I can’t take anything anymore. But they’re still watching me. They know.
Dean Jutta Brunnée: The Haunting at J’s Java
I had never seen that many students at J’s Java before, filling and refilling their cups and grabbing snack after snack. One said “Check out that coffee. It’s green!” Another chimed in “My tea is fluorescent—groovy!” Yet others marveled, “Did you see the dark red scones and the orange croissants?”
They all seemed to agree—the Dean had gone all out with the Halloween Java!
Just then, a ghostly figure put a cold hand on my shoulder and pointed at the sign. It read: “J’s Halloween Environmental Awareness Java.” The ghost rasped: “Do you like it? The coffee and tea represent polluted water. And the pastries are the colours of this year’s climate stripes.”
Well, at least the muffins weren’t the scariest thing at J’s Java this time!
The Career Development Office: The Two-Day Curse
It was peak season in the CDO office—July was always chaotic, but this? This felt different. The emails poured in like a relentless tide, and the pressure—the pressure—hung heavy in the air. Students were scrambling, sending résumés in every format imaginable.
Then, it happened.
A résumé arrived, but there was one problem: it was 1 hour past the two-day peak-season appointment submission deadline.
The moment it appeared, everything shifted. The room grew colder. The walls twisted and stretched, towering like a maze. A voice, soft but insistent, echoed from nowhere, repeating every CDO advisor’s worst nightmares: posted office hours snatched away in seconds, deadlines missed, résumés longer than two pages.
“Two days… two days…” it howled, growing more frantic with each pass. (This story was not written by the CDO, is a joke, and the CDO does not strictly enforce their rule to submit your materials at least two days before an appointment)
Chris Essert and Anthony Niblett: Worst Nightmares
Niblett’s worst nightmare
It happened so fast. I still can’t wrap my head around it. One day, life was normal—people went to their jobs, kids played in the park, the world turned as it always did. But then, overnight, everything fell apart. The apocalypse of the infected. The rise of the cursed. The news was frantic at first, but within hours, even the broadcasts went silent. I woke up to the moaning and screams, to the banging on doors, to the chaos outside. Now, I’m alone, hiding in my office, hoping they don’t find me. The world as I knew it is gone… It’s all over. It’s them.
They’re all… deontologists.
Essert’s worst nightmare
It happened so fast. I still can’t wrap my head around it. One day, life was normal—people went to their jobs, kids played in the park, the world turned as it always did. But then, overnight, everything fell apart. The apocalypse of the infected. The rise of the cursed. The news was frantic at first, but within hours, even the broadcasts went silent. I woke up to the moaning and screams, to the banging on doors, to the chaos outside. Now, I’m alone, hiding in my office, hoping they don’t find me. The world as I knew it is gone… It’s all over. It’s them.
They’re all… economists.
Terima Staff: The Terima Utensil Thief
We live in constant terror of one thing: the mysterious disappearance of plastic utensils. It started innocently enough—forks, spoons, and knives would vanish, always in small, seemingly harmless numbers. But then, one fateful night, a barista saw something they couldn’t unsee. A shadowy figure slipped behind the counter, grabbed an entire stack of plastic forks, and vanished into the night, leaving nothing but a cold chill and the faint sound of plastic clinking.
Now, every time someone orders takeout, we watch with growing dread. We whisper to one other, “Will it be the spoons tonight? Or the knives?” The terror’s not just in the theft; it’s in the eerie silence that follows. No one knows who—or what—is taking the utensils, but we all agree: the ghost of U of T Law is hungry and it’s collecting more than just forks.