Last week, in an attempt to solidify their direction for this upcoming year, the Faith and Spirituality Centre conducted a survey to assess how various groups on campus use the space.
The survey was run by the FSC at booths located in MacHall, Social Sciences and ICT. However, followers of The One Who Lurks Beneath the Mountain instead responded to the survey by leaving thoroughly completed questionnaires in a neat stack inside the locked FSC offices. These forms revealed that no members of that belief system currently use the Faith and Spirituality Centre.
The group also left behind the message, “It’s super cool that you’re doing this survey! We value your efforts!” conveniently written on the office walls in the blood of a young mountain goat.
According to Diederik Hummel, a spokesperson from the FSC, the organization has made every effort to create a space in which the followers of The Lurking One can observe and perform their traditional rituals on campus. These include practices such as “something is licking my face and it isn’t my dog” and “being chased naked through a dark, empty corn maze.”
Hummel mentions that the FSC has also offered to organize weeknight sessions for other students to learn more about the culture surrounding The Lurking One.
“Plans were in progress to put on a seminar Monday night where High Priest Nw’gvratr could expand students’ understanding of this fascinating religion,” Hummel said.
Unfortunately, difficulties emerged when Ngaio Kiri, a volunteer for the FSC, attempted to contact Nw’gvratr over the phone. Sources, who wish to remain anonymous for fear of retribution, state that Kiri called a number that had been written on papyrus and affixed to the front door of her home with an ancient, rusted bronze spike. She remained motionless as she listened to “the absolute silence of the void that connects and simultaneously severs one galaxy from the next” — a phrase Kiri herself used at the time to describe what she had heard — before going wide-eyed and collapsing into a catatonic state that she has yet to wake from. Further endeavours to arrange Nw’gvratr’s visit were then discontinued.
Initial attempts to contact students who follow The Lurking One for a statement on the survey results were met with blank stares through the eyeholes of masks depicting the faces of various herbivorous mammals whose tongues lolled out in a grotesque approximation of death. The students who were questioned then hurried off with their shoulders hunched and hands contorting into unnatural gestures that may or may not have been used to lay a curse on Gauntlet reporters.
A representative of students who follow The Lurking One later made a statement through a thousand dark beetles scuttling beneath your clothes and over your bare flesh in a way that sounded almost as though they were whispering quietly, solely to you. They whispered in a language that you shouldn’t have known, but you did, and the words crawled over you and into your mouth and ears and said this:
“Quite frankly, the FSC has been exceptionally open and accommodating to us. That being said, we are a rather private group who prefer to practise our faith in our own circles, though we truly appreciate the work done by this wonderful organization to make us feel welcome and at home within this community.”
The beetles concluded the statement by burrowing into your flesh, where you could feel them crawling just below the surface.
It seems as though the worshippers of The One Who Lurks Beneath the Mountain are pleased with the current state of the FSC and are perfectly content to attempt to raise their antediluvian deity to the surface without engaging with any on-campus organizations.
This article is part of our humour section.