Nexus is located in the SUB, first floor, and in the back corner. If you’ve never been in the Nexus office or the SUB after hours then you’re fortunate to not have experienced the hellish vibe and overly scary ambience. Shit is dark, and the one flickering hall light doesn’t help to ease the terror. Nexus, as a collective, decided that we wanted to make it even scarier and fuck with the occult but not in the ways you think.

 

Hand-made board in hand, vibes achieved, and night foreboding–the scene was set. We’re ready to contact the scariest ghost of all time. Prior to going into this, we heard whispers and talks of the spirit roaming the halls late at night. But none of us had seen it. So we had to ask around what the spirit looked like. Ex editors, designers, and general staff were apprehensive to even kōrero about what they’d possibly seen or heard. There’s an inherent fear of what the spirit could and couldn’t be. The people were afraid.

 

What little information we did have, we decided to go forth anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?

 

The moment was here, we say around our makeshift pentagram, looking down at the candles. Perhaps not a good idea with sprinklers above us and the foreboding concern of wetting our plethora of ancient computers in the hopes of a good story. Still, we’re shit cunts in student media so we have to continue and persist in the face of immediate danger.

 

Our pentagram looked kind of sad though, off-kilter and definitely not even. Candles at each point, with a heavenly glow in the room. None of that holding hands shit though, we’re big strong kids with no fear in our bodies. Well maybe a little fear, can’t help but want to hide with the constant sounds of creaks and groans through a 60 year old building–holding the secrets of student media passed.

 

The Ouija board, same fucker featured in our centrefold, was set and we all hovered over the forgetten ‘The Volume Collective’ glass we’d nabbed from the kitchen shelf. It gave an unobstructed view of the letters. Our hands hovering over the g, preparing ourselves for whatever may happen or whatever could come from this. What’s the possibility of being taken over by the spirits of those filling our hallowed halls. 

 

The walls started to shake, sweating as we felt an overwhelming sense of something–but none of us could feel what it was. Our souls rattled, our brains fried. We looked to each other for support as we felt the cold breathing along the back of our necks. 

 

They say that in the darkest moments of peril, as you face the scariest demons as we were about too, that you find peace. There’s no peace for us, the sense of lightness never found its way into our room that evening. Only sadness, anguish, and dread.

 

Nothing could’ve prepared us for the heaviness we felt as we asked the question we wanted answered.

 

“Editors of Salient passed, we call upon you. Please answer us.”

 

Nothing. Guess they were too busy missing deadlines.