Desperate students turn to occult supernatural methods to find the missing Caravan Man 

The Caravan Man. Both students and faculty adore him. The energy he brings to pep rallies, the unmatched passion he exhibits when bringing the hype, and the massive amounts of aura he has every time he steps foot into the room. 

But at the most recent pep rally before the football team’s game against Brother Rice, the esteemed mascot was nowhere to be seen. Despite many efforts to locate him both before and after the pep rally, he still remains missing in action. Desperate for the embodiment of Caravan culture himself, students have turned to an alternative, more unconventional method of locating him. This, though, would most likely not receive a thumbs-up from the Theology Department, to put it lightly.

Sophomore James Weber created a summoning circle in the commons restroom during sixth-period lunch. Prior to this, Weber and a handful of similarly desperate peers collected brown chalk, candles, and what seemed to be incense for the ritual. Additionally, they found an ancient grimoire with incantations from the deepest, darkest, and most horrifying depths of campus, more commonly known as the storage room in the Berry-Hughes Performing Arts Center. 

Previous students claim that the Caravan Man had returned to “his realm” after seeming dissatisfied with an unknown factor. The most widely-accepted theory is that, like all others at Mount Carmel, he was fed up with the freshmen. One of them had thrown up on him after his lunch of animal crackers and apple juice gave him a tummy ache. Students scurried around, arranging the chalk in the shape of the MC logo, burning the incense smelling of Blue Razz Ice and Strawberry Custard, and lighting around six or seven candles. With chants taken straight from the grimoire and the raising of the Caravan Man’s most beloved possession (the sledgehammer so commonly used during pep rallies), the summoning began.

“From hades inferior to eternity superior, make open the veil of reality in order to search for our begotten beloved,” Weber recited, beginning to levitate with rolled back eyes, “Hitherto, take wholly into your possession the lives of all current freshmen as sacrificial tax. We don’t really want them anyways, honestly.”

The circle started emanating an eerie copper glow, responding to the pleas of the summoners. Weber soon collapsed to the bathroom floor, seemingly drained of his life force. Smoke rose around the students, enveloping them in the ethereal mist until one man couldn’t see the one right next to him. The air smelled of pumpkins as the glow of the circle became blinding. Before any of them knew it, the man of the hour took his place in the center, levitating mid-air with an aura that stripped air from lungs. Its body was humanoid and was made of a pure brown-ish light, any facial features indistinguishable. The ritual was successful.

“Such avaricious, young lambs,” the newly-conjured Caravan Man said, its tone composed yet commanding, “do you see me as lowly filth? A scant offering of freshmen is the highest form of mockery to anyone, bar The Caravan Man. Do you expect solace for spitting in the face of a being such as myself, forgiveness for the foolish desires you hold so dearly without understanding the gravity of its implications on the realms not only real but divine and hellish?”

Walls shook from the impact of Caravan Man’s booming voice laced with unadulterated rage. The students could only gaze with their mouths agape at the entity, their lives wholly at the mercy of a being far beyond their scope of reality. Sweat formed at the brow but was immediately frozen and evaporated simultaneously from the surges of power surrounding The Caravan Man. It is the tale of Icarus that repeats itself so often throughout history: fools fly too close to the sun. After a moment that held time by the throat, it spoke.

“If you induct the entire student body into The Merchant, I will spare my wrath upon you lot,” it says, “Perhaps we can reach a future agreement where humans and I can work mutually once more. However, you must first recruit all into your satirical publication first. I find the articles quite funny.”

With a flash of light, the Caravan Man vanished, leaving behind only stubs of candles, clouds of chalk, and the grimoire which had been set ablaze, perhaps destroying itself at the knowledge of the unholy power it holds. Breath finally reentered the lungs of the students.

“Dude, I thought that the Caravan Man was supposed to represent school spirit, not actually be a spirit himself.” Weber recalls, “Anyways, what are freshmen even good for? Not even our mascot wants them.”