(Disclaimer: All the places, names and quotes are used fictitiously. None of this is real — absolutely none of it.)

Earlier this week, we fed some rumors about some allegedly “haunted” places on and around campus. Now, we bring you our second installment of creepy Berkeley locales:

4. The stairwells in Wurster Hall. “It’s not just graffiti on the walls. It’s people’s feelings.”

— Kevin Bercerril, 2013 grad with a bachelor’s degree in architecture

There is so much pain in Wurster Hall. Students year after year get assigned drawing projects that take 25 hours week after week. The drawings have to be so precise. On rubrics, it is written, “For an A, the viewer should look at the drawing and be able to hear the walls breathing.”

The stairwell seeps the biggest fears, the horrors, the yearnings of architecture students. You can read everything on the walls in the stairwells of Wurster. At night, you may see them — sleep-deprived, more zombie than human and walking around mumbling, “I haven’t slept in seven days. I have a critique tomorrow … Why do I do this to myself?”

In the Wurster stairwells, everyone can hear you scream.

5. The basement of Cloyne Court Hotel. Known as “the dungeon,” the basement of Cloyne has three doors: one that leads to the succulent garden one that leads to the Le Roy Avenue and one that leads to The Unknown. Some say that there are two-headed fish living in the basement, a popular myth based on the legends of pirates who first established the hotel back in the 1800s. Others swear that they’ve seen a ghost when the Campanile strikes midnight. Though accounts differ on size, color and weaponry, all claim to see a panda stalking the halls. Where it came from and what it wants, no one knows for sure.

Not all think that the ghost of a panda is bad. Some say that it protects the basement from evil pirates and thieves. Some say that in the future, all pandas will be ghosts.

Some say that the panda is the soul of Cloyne Court itself.

6. Tolman Hall. Since it was ruled seismically unsafe, official reports said, Tolman Hall was closed for safety reasons a couple years back. We at the Clog found this a bit suspicious. Why? We couldn’t say. All we knew was that after some deliberation, we found ourselves at Tolman in the middle of the night with phone-flashlights and emergency fruit snacks. It was barred off, and we didn’t want to break in. But through the slits, we could see that the insides were infested with vines. We were about to leave when we were approached by a graduate student who — by virtue of her beret and book bag, which was almost too heavy to carry — seemed very wise. She told us that the earthquake was a cover story. The real reason it was closed was that Tolman Hall was haunted.

Now it is only lived in by small woodland critters, because the halls creak and pipes leak even though there is no water going through them. In the halls roam the class of 1868. They walk around in short shorts and crew-cut hair. They sing barber-shop songs about drinking at the soda fountain and striking oil.

We didn’t believe a word she said, but as we were going back to the Daily Cal office from the lower floors of Tolman, we heard singing.

Do you have any campus ghost stories? Let us know in the comments!