Cryptids of St. Mary’s

Pictured: Royalty-free representation of a cryptid

The Baseball Field

Sure, you know it’s there. But where? Surely it’s not where you think it is. That would be far too obvious. “But Georgie”, you cry, “I’ve seen it; it’s on the campus maps!” Is it? Is it really? You can only truly find the baseball field after getting lost in North Woods. Keep following the paths and you’ll get somewhere, won’t you? Just keep walking. The edge of the woods approaches. You have found it. The baseball field. You hear a faint scream from the dugout, but there is no one there. The baseball team may or may not be a secret society of shapeshifters, but we can never confront them about it. Maybe it’s better this way. Go Seahawks, if we can call you that.

The Linne James Monster

It may sound like a cheap copy of the Loch Ness monster, but that’s only because it is. The Linne James Monster, however, is tiny and real. I can guarantee you’ve seen it. It lives in St. James Pond and looks like a duck diving for food, but that’s what it wants you to think. Looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, but it’s definitely not a duck. It’s actually a flesh eating monster that waits at the end of your twin XL every Thursday night. Maybe one day you will notice its cold, cold gaze. When you have looked the Linne James Monster in the eye, you mustn’t break your stare. If you do, you owe him five dollars, and no college student can afford that kind of luxury.

The Echo Man

If you’re a victim of crippling loneliness, there’s a fair chance you’ve spent some time in the Echo Circle outside Trinity Church in an attempt to feel like someone is listening to all your pitiful college problems. You listen, but when you hear a voice whispering back, it is your own. Unless, of course, you venture to the echo circle at 3:26 am and ask the Echo Man a question. He will answer you, but only one question, and only with answers you could find on a magic eight ball. I once asked him the meaning of life, and the screeching response was “Reply hazy, try again later.” My life has never been the same since that night. Try it for yourself, but don’t tell him I sent you. This hidden friend is not to be taken advantage of.


Any student who’s been at SMCM long enough and driven down Three Notch Road has seen the massive idol of Spongebob on the side of the road. We know he’s there, and we know he’s watching over our every movement and breath like The Police on their 1983 hit “I’ll be watching you”. But where is Patrick? The answer is simple: he’s here. In all of our hearts. After four cups of coffee at 2 AM, he will appear to you on campus and follow you. Patrick will bring you good luck on your exams if you find him, but no one will ever truly know his pain and the depth of his loneliness. Do not speak to him – only nod. Maybe the real treasure was the cryptids we met along the way.

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