Headless Connor

Most people like to know about their school, whether it be its his tory or current practices. Nevertheless, what if I told you that there’s something a lot of you probably don’t know? It’s something that’s been around us this entire time. Or rather, something underneath us.

The tunnels of Central piqued my interest from the moment I heard about them. I did a quick Google search, only to discover that the internet has no information on them! It’s as if they don’t ex ist. The BGQ Staffers contacted our lead custodian, Ms. Terry Munson, to see if she would take us down there for an investigation. To our excitement, she agreed.

The team passed through a ‘magical’ brick wall between pillars 9 and 10 (or something like that). After passing various cleaning supplies, Munson leads us to a room with stairs descending to the floor. There are bright fluorescent lights that illuminate a room full of pipes, valves, vats of chemicals, and giant blue boilers. After the staffers all made it down into the room, Munson began explaining the Boiler Room to us. The two 30-year-old boilers keep our school warm during the long Michigan winters. Part of Munson’s lengthy job is to handle the corrosive chemicals needed for the boilers to function. These aren’t your average chemistry class chemicals: these are chemicals that can burn your skin.

After giving the 14 of us a tour of the Boiler Room, Munson led us over to a small hole in the wall. Going through it revealed a dimly lit and narrow hallway. Pipes cluttered the left side of the tunnel, giving us only about two feet for us to shuffle through. One staffer said it smelled like a bait shop. Another said it smelled like nail polish remover. It housed an overbearing amount of spider webs and sand. The ceilings and walls appeared questionable to us as well. They looked like sheets of rusting metal. The walls were concrete; however, they were filled with holes and littered with handprints. Interesting.

At one point Munson stopped our group and turned our attention to the pipes on our left. Behind these pipes was empty darkness. Munson explained to us that the crawlspace led to the library. Since the tunnels run from F Building to the Big Gym, it is necessary to have multiple access points. Some of these various entrances are in bathrooms, classrooms, or randomly scattered among the maze of hallways (well covered up, of course). After about 15 minutes, we decided we were too nervous to go any further. We had everyone turn around and run back as fast as possible. Once we checked each other’s hair for spiders, the 13 of us walked back up the stairs and exited from the janitor’s office.

I apologize, but I haven’t told you the whole story.

There can’t be more here than just miles of piping, right? Wrong! I won’t sugarcoat it; it’s bad. It might be enough to take down our school from the inside. I can hear you excitedly saying things like, “No more school!” or “Finally, a break!” I can assure you that this would be no relaxing vacation. This treachery is carried in small vessels that have already infiltrated most of the world. Soon, we won’t have a chance.

On that fateful day when Munson took us into the tunnels, the staffers never would’ve expected to come out changed people. After being in the tunnels for 15 minutes, the staffers and I unanimously agreed that we had enough information. I was at the very end of the line since I had to take pictures. Without warning, a shrill scream echoed throughout the seemingly endless tunnels. I later found out that this was our editor-in-chief, Liz, who had screamed. I heard audible gasps of fear from the staffers in front of me as they continued to step over something. I eventually made my way to the dreaded pipe. There, laying on the ground underneath a pipe, was Connor. Or rather, Connor’s headless body. It wasn’t incredibly gruesome; it seemed to be a very uniform cut. My stomach twisted at the sight of him. I winced as I stepped over his body just like everyone else, and I ran out to join the other staffers. Now, this begs the question: what happened to Connor?

According to Liz, we had just been walking out of the tunnels, and he bent his head so he wouldn’t hit himself on a pipe. As soon as he did that, hundreds of spiders pounced on him at once. In seconds, he fell over without a head. We tried to get more questions out of Liz, but she was reasonably hysterical. However, after compiling all of the information I could gather, I have come to a phenomenal conclusion: it’s the spiders. It’s been the spiders this whole time.

Exhibit A: the abnormal amount of cobwebs. Spiders can live anywhere there is food. These cobwebs are how they catch their prey. These webs that we noticed in the tunnels, however, were empty. So where were they?

Exhibit B: the peculiar holes in the walls. The holes would be maybe the size of a softball. After shining a light into them, one would discover that it never actually led anywhere. These holes were just penetrations full of cement. The insides of them were rough and full of bumps. I believe these holes to be the network for the spiders. Let’s say some of these spiders are particularly small. They’re able to crawl through the walls in these minuscule networks.

Exhibit C: the corrosive chemicals found in the Boiler Room. These chemicals are not labeled by name; rather, they are labeled with a series of numbers and letters. This lack of identity puzzles me. Why not label the chemicals? Wouldn’t that be imperative information to have in case of an emergency? I believe that the spiders got into these chemicals one day. I can’t say how it happened, but I believe that the arachnids have become sentient beings. They can think and feel, and love and hate. They can also scheme.

Exhibit D: the amount of sand and dust. While walking, we noticed a thick layer of sand between us and the floor. At least, we assumed it was sand. It was scattered throughout the tunnels, but very prevalent. We were only in the tunnels for a few minutes, yet I quickly found myself wishing I was outside in the chilly November air. The tunnels are 65 years old - of course, they would be dusty. Except, what if it isn’t dust? Maybe the spiders have learned a bit while in school. Maybe they’ve learned to perform “tests.” Maybe that dust is the remains of their sick experiments…

So what’s the point of this? Why should you be concerned? Spiders are everywhere. These vile arachnids aren’t limited to our school; they’re worldwide. It isn’t limited to the type of spider, either. They are listening to us in the walls of our homes. They are watching us from their paper-thin webs in the corner of our rooms. They are learning about our bodies from specimens taken from victims. They are planning to break our society from the inside.

The world has been launched into many discordant directions, so maybe they already have. (Disclaimer: this is fictional. No Connors were harmed in the making of this story.) //