#1: Zombies? Not My Taichi.

“Yat-yih-saam… yih-yih-saam…saam-yih-sam…”

A loud screech pierced the air, disturbing the tranquillity of the Botanic Gardens. Having had their fervid exhalations unceremoniously interrupted, the taichi class glared angrily at the source of the disturbance.

“They’re coming! The zombies from the CJ Koh Law Library!” a girl with blonde highlights (her roots were already showing black) squealed as she stumbled down the too-wide steps. “Run, aunties. RUN!”

As the rest of the taichi class scattered, Auntie Kay looked up solemnly at the horde of undead. They were traipsing down the hill, paper coffee cups in hand. Their complexions were pallid, their eyebags so deep that they put the Mariana Trench to shame.

They were chanting monotonously under their (lack-of) breaths, something about factual foreseeability or proximity or the like. It all sounded like gibberish to Auntie Kay anyway. But she knew enough to guess what had happened.

After half a decade of restful containment, the worst had finally happened: the law students on the hill were invading the Singapore Botanic Gardens.

#2: Sub-Club Meeting

Lucille Carmellia Phang* looked up from her laptop in annoyance. It was 5.05 pm—five minutes past the time they were due to start the sub-club meeting. As Law Club President, she took a very dim view of tardiness.  

“Where is everyone?” she asked the only other member in the meeting room. Denise, a quiet girl who was typing away on her mechanical keyboard at a furious pace verging on 200 wpm. “There are supposed to be five people at this meeting: the vice president of MDC, the secretary of CJC, the chief editor of the SLR and the president of PBG.”

“They’re all here,” Denise said, still typing, as her eyeballs darted back and forth between her laptop screen and her iPad. “We can start the meeting.”

Lucille frowned. Were she and Denise not the only two people in the room? "I don't understand."

Denise stopped typing abruptly. The sudden silence was unsettling.

Lucille felt her skin prickle with goosebumps as Denise met her gaze squarely.

“They’re all here. I am the vice president of MDC, the secretary of CJC, the chief editor of SLR and the president of PBG. Oh, and I’m the Law Club secretary too, so I’ll be taking the minutes of this meeting. Now, if there are no further objections… let’s start, shall we?”

*no relation to JA Andrew Phang Boon Leong

#3: “Cereal Convention”

The committee had booked out Seminar Room 4-4 for the cereal convention. Booked half a year in advance, as was the standard practice. Their repeated dealings with “application deadlines on a rolling basis” had given them all anxiety.

A snaking queue had formed in front of the seminar room, where a registration counter had been set up. Even a few clueless Year 1s had joined the queue, thinking there might be buffet leftovers at the end of the line.

Snippets of conversation—mostly sad humblebrags—could be heard travelling down the line.

“Last summer, I managed to squeeze four into three months. They said it couldn’t be done, but I did it.”

“Have you started TC applications yet? I heard someone in our batch got an offer from…”

Just then, a gymbro rocked up to the front of the line.

“Ey, Eddy! Bro, long time no see!”

“Whoa!” The guy manning the counter looked around him frantically, making sure no one had heard, before he lowered his voice. “No civilian names, please!”

“Whoops! Paiseh…”

Eddy offered his indiscreet acquaintance a hard look and a ‘Hello My Name Is…’ sticker.

“I’m ‘The M&Angel’ here,” he said, pointing to the sticker on his shirt. “Two rules: Rule 1, no civilian names. Rule 2, we don’t shit where we eat—strictly no targeting of other convention members.”

“Hey, do you guys have Fruit Loops here? Honey Stars? Koko Crunch?” a girl asked, inserting herself into the conversation.

This proved to be the final straw for Eddy, the M&Angel.

“NO!” The M&Angel threw his arms up in the air. “For the last time, we do not serve cereal here!”

“But it’s a cereal convention… Wait. Serial convention. Ohmygosh. Are y’all…serial killers????”

“Worse.” The M&Angel smiled sinisterly. “We’re serial interns.”

#4: On Victimless Crimes

9 am tutorials should be unconstitutional, Shanti thought as she staggered into the lift.

She’d overslept—again. Her OOTD was simply the first thing that had been within reach: last year’s Law Rag shirt with a picture of Lady Justice at the back.

A bronzed hand reached through the gap between the lift doors, holding it open at the last minute. Two girls walked into the lift.

“Would you wear a law school shirt?” one of them asked the other.

“No way. That’s so obnoxious,” said the other girl. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Not to mention the fact that it’s practically a crime against fashion.”


Still crouching in a corner in her Law Rag shirt, Shanti willed the lift doors to open faster.

Got a spooky story of your own to share? Send us your Halloween flash fiction at [email protected].

Share this post