The dreaded Snowy stealth attack...
Growing up, I used to get sent to youth club in the local Church on a Thursday night while my parents went to the Social club opposite for a well-deserved break from child-rearing.

It was generally good fun. They had a pool table, table tennis, a tuckshop, and a garden where we could run around, off our heads on e-numbers and sugary sweets, and kick a football about. The only problem was, there were a couple of rough kids there who were always looking for fights. Being about 10, it was only ever a bit of rough and tumble, so as long as you gave as good as you got you'd probably go home with a few bruises and nothing much more - it certainly wasn't bad enough to make you want to miss out on youth club and sit at home instead.

Anyway, we still got a bit fed up of this and as a result me and my friend George used to discuss how we'd deal with these bullies if they had a go at us, and hatch cunning plans for self-preservation (generally of the sort that involved me kicking one of them in the bollocks then us both legging it- George was quite timid)

One day we were playing table tennis in the main hall, and two of these lads came over and tried to force us off the table. We'd decided to try a new tactic. Rather than fight them head on, I was going to take advantage of the dark - I think I might have got this idea from watching cartoons or Batman or something.

'George,' I demanded with a flourish 'turn out the lights!'

So he did. He hit the switch on the wall next to him, and I put my fiendish plan into action, getting myself in position to pounce by climbing on the highest object nearby (again, you may observe here that many of my fighting techniques were learnt from TV, in this case WWF). Unfortunately, in this case the highest object nearby was the table tennis table, which promptly folded itself closed as I jumped onto it, leaving me on the floor in a heap, with a sprained ankle.

Hearing the huge clatter and then my moans, George turned the light back on to reveal to our opponents my shameful failure to execute a stealthy attack.

It kind of worked though. They were so bemused that they just stood there for a few moments, staring, then walked off.

Victory was mine!
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 9:17, Reply)

When no-one else in is the house...
...having a poo, with the bathroom door open, in the dark, is quite a beautiful experience.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 9:11, 5 replies)

Whenever the power goes out
Me and my friends are at a loss, being as we are completely dependant on gadgets. No power means no electric guitars, no TV, no computer games etc etc. So what to do, what to do... we could talk? Nah... ummm... we could... nah...

Lets get the whisky out!
(Is this a good idea? ... Yes this is definitely a good idea, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 8:54, Reply)

Scary!
I remember it well, it was close to midnight, and it felt like there was something...evil...lurking in the dark. I saw something terrifying, but was so sacred I couldnt move or even scream! In the distance I heard a door slam and realised I was trapped.

MJ
(kitescreech still here, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 8:35, Reply)

im not afraid of the dark!!!!!!!!
im not!!!!!!!!!
( d d, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 8:13, 1 reply)

Camping in Big Sur
I'd gone on a Trek America holiday and we were going down the Pacific Coast Highway (which is beautiful if you've never been) and camped overnight in Big Sur (the place with the giant Sequoia's)
We got the obligatory talk about bears. It appears the worst thing you can do if confronted is turn and run as they can easily outrun a person. Roger, Wilco. Got that.
Anyway, woke up in the middle of the night needing the loo. Could I find my torch? Could I fark. Could I see through my contact-lensless eyes? Could I fark. Aimed myself in the general direction of the toilet block.
You know what is coming, don't you...
Halfway there I hear this snuffly snorty sound and looking to the left into the undergrowth with my myopic eyes I saw a dark black shape. Moving. And making animal noises.
Immediately I forgot the bear lecture and raced like a motherfucker to the toilet block, imagining the bear's saliva spraying the back of my neck as it went in for the kill.
Into the toilet block, slam the door. The light is on so I can see. Sort of. Still blind, no lenses. By this time I was in hysterics. Praising Jesus for saving me and promising I'd go to church ten times a day until the day I die for saving me from the bear.

A concerned face popped out from a shower stall. 'Jeez honey are you ok?'
'No, I've just escaped from a bear... it was chasing me'
'Black, large, snuffly?'
'That's him'
'Oh bless you honey that was my dog'

Moral of the story is... it's very dark at Big Sur. Keep a maglite to hand. And wear your fucking glasses.
( Sallyrsm, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 7:51, 1 reply)

No lights!
I live in Beijing where, rather coolly, they have sound activated lights in public places like stairwells, bike sheds and the like. As such I have become habituated to walking into a dark room and clapping my hands to turn on the lights.

This was fine until I was recently staying in a friend's house in Mexico. Taking a late night preambulation to drain off the excess tequila I stepped out into the pitch black hallway from my darkened room. I knew I had to negotiate the stairs so as I stepped forward I clapped my hands. You can see where this is heading, can't you?

From the bottom of the stairs I calculated that a) I should have clapped *before* I stepped and that b) this was irrelevant as I was on the wrong continent for this to work.

Length? Only about 4 feet, but made of granite.
(Bob the Scutter, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 7:40, Reply)

Caught short
Once walking home about half midnight felt the need to pop a sausage from my bum. Trouble was I was nowhere near my house and no toilets anywhere.
So I climbed over a small wall and thru a hedge into what I thought was a little garden/park. It was pitch black, couldn't see a thing. Pulled my trousers down and dumped.
Next day I was walking back along the same road and decided to look in said park/garden to see if my plop was about.
Walked through the gate and around the big hedge I'd climbed thru and found a tennis court.
And right in the middle was a huge poo, MY POO.
And there were two people staring at it wanting to play tennis in their lovely white tennis clothes.
I was so proud I shouted "That's mine" then ran off.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 7:34, 3 replies)

The great storm
Back when the weather people got it wrong all the time (the 80s)
There was a great storm (84 or 87, dunno can't remember) anyway the one not predicted by the fish guy.
Anyway according to my wife during the night in the pitch black there was a huge wind and all the electric went out causing her to scream her head off as well as our 3 drains on our money.
In the morning I woke at 5am and found the leccy off. Tried for 20 mins to call leccy board. eventually called the operator cos it was engaged. Was told they're probably busy because of the hurricane.
Looked outside a a fookin tree was in front of our house laying down.
To this day my wife moans that I slept thru it all, leaving her in the dark thinking the world was ending.

I still believe it didn't happen and it was all a govt conspiricy to get rid of trees instead of pruning them. I think my wife may be part of it.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 7:20, 3 replies)

The short version
Laying in bed next to a completely insane girl I have drunkenly picked up and only later realised is window-licking mad, I'm staring into the darkness waiting for morning to arrive so I can get her the hell out of my bed, room, house and life.
She gets up, walks out of the room (off to the loo, I think) and then I hear the unmistakable sounds of kitchen drawers being opened.
She returns and climbs back into bed.
I lasted about five minutes, laying as still as possible, thinking "Did she just go and get a kitchen knife? I think she just went and got a kitchen knife! Nah, she didn't get a kitchen knife? She did! She did get a kitchen knife! Don't be stupid, she wouldn't have got a kitchen knife" etc etc until I finally cracked.
I jumped up, turned on the light and tore back the bed clothes.
No knife, just the same loon laying there blinking at me and asking what was wrong.
Nothing, says I and the light goes off.
And I spent the next three hours huddled in the dark as far from her as possible listening for any knife-like sounds.
The worst. Night. Ever.
( difficultchild, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 6:48, 1 reply)

Grizzly!
The summer after "Jaws" came out saw a number of copy-cat movies. One of the more successful ones was "Grizzly!", which followed the same plot as "Jaws", substituting a forest for the ocean, tents and cabins for boats, and (of course) a gargantuan bear for the huge shark.

For some reason my girl was keen to see this film; perhaps our positive experience with "Jaws" the year before influenced her decision. However, while we lived 300 miles from the ocean, we both actually lived in the forest!

We made it through the first 30 minutes of "Grizzly!", then headed home. Being horny teenagers in the US, we traditionally stopped at one of a few secluded places to 'park' (read: fuck like bunnies). This night we picked a spot as far from the woods as possible - a 'summer road' through some wheat and hay. fields. Beautiful night, no moon or other light to reveal our love games. My gorgeous (but nervous) sweetheart huddled close, and our raging hormones soon overrode our apprehension. I began stripping my beauty, when a flash lit the car!

Cover up, look around - nothing. Listen - nothing. Ok, maybe a shooting star. After a few minutes we resume. I take off her other sock - FLASH!

It was just static electricity, but on top of that movie, the mood was spoiled. Home we went.

Oh, and 3 weeks later her neighbors trailer was broken into by a bear, who completely trashed the place. No-one was home, but we ended up renting our first motel room soon after. No more parking for a few months. :)
(danalan Pretty good, for an amateur., Fri 24 Jul 2009, 4:53, 1 reply)

Cub Scout Trip
When I was about 9 years old, my cub scout group organized a camping trip near a local forest. We had an awesome first day putting up tents and 'exploring' the local area.

It started getting dark and our supervisor told us that we would be 'ambushing' the other group of cubs near some old huts by the big lake. We walked for ages to get to the lake, and by this time it was pitch black, with only torches for guidance. The ambush went well and we managed to spook the other group successfully. We then had to walk back.

Tired and a little nervous, we were split into groups and headed home across the sandy scrubland. My group had about 5 of us with the supervisor leading the way. After half an hour of awkward torchlit walking through the middle of nowhere, we heard a baby crying.

Our leader stopped us and told us to keep together and move quickly. Up ahead was an old parked car with its inside light on. As we passed, I looked in to see a half-naked black dude, with his eyes closed, reclined in the driver seat with a screaming baby on his chest.

I know its not that weird thinking back on it, but the nine year old me was shitting bricks.

Did I get any sleep that week?...did I fuck.
( PointlessCamel Last one on drugs is a queer., Fri 24 Jul 2009, 3:23, Reply)

Lollipop
A few friends held a party, on a hidden beach set just off some bush. Due to the fact it was pitch black and we had had a few drinks, a game was created were the participant ran as fast as he/her could into the scrub.

This lead to some hilarious injuries. On being a stick gouging someones face only centimeters from their eye. But I digress.

After one young lass ran into the dark, we hear a spine tingling scream. A few of us follow her cries to an opening not far from the sand.
There in all its glory was a Labradors head neatly spiked on a stick.

No-one slept comfortably on the beach that night.
(Slatts If you cant remember it didnt happen, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 3:19, 3 replies)

Something tells me
That this QOTW will see a lot of reposts from the Tales of the Unexplained one last year

goooood shiz :)
(Freddles, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 2:09, Reply)

Scaring a burglar
This could be the first of a few posts on this subject

I have no problem with the dark.
Well mostly.
I have been scared witless by a couple of films that resulted in my going to bed with the lights on for weeks.
But in spite of being almost blind in one eye, I have rather good night vision and will wander around in the dark without fear and danger of falling over anything.
Having spent many many nights in the wilderness with army types I can safely say the dark holds no fears for me.
Do you ever watch a horror film where the heroine goes wandering of in the dark to investigate a strange noise?
And yell at the TV that no-one would really do that, in reality they would run in the opposite direction
Well I'm afraid I'm guilty of blundering towards the strange sound.
I rented a room in someones house, they were often working away leaving me there alone.
One night I woke to hear noise from downstairs.
I lay there frozen for a while, then survival instinct kicked in.
I was also a weekend viking re-enactor and there was a sword in my room.
I grabbed the sword and slipped downstairs in the dark, feeling my way along the wall.
To end up in the kitchen where I could vaguely see the dark shape of someone crouched behind the clear glass door to the back yard.
Someone who was attempting to pick the lock.
Until they were confronted by a large naked lady holding a sword aloft and yelling banshee style in their face.
I have never seen anyone scream and run away so fast, leaving their tools behind.
The dark dont scare me, but I like to think there was a would be burglar out there who had nightmares for a very long time and didnt try that again.
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:59, 3 replies)

We made our own funfair ride
sort of. Picture in your mind (if you will) a small very dark shed, with a typists chair in the middle, and a strobe light in each corner, sequenced to run clockwise. With the door shut this place was blacker than a very black thing, no light at all got in anywhere. So, the idea was you sat in the chair and the strobes would start. Then somebody would start spinning you around in the chair in an anticlockwise direction. we would attempt to match the speed of the strobes with the chair, the result being you head thought it was going one way, while the brain was convinced it was going the other way. oh to be 12 again.......
( TBL I posted this on, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:52, Reply)

Adding to a tale further down...
... i spent the night in Glen Clova last night, in my tent. There is nothing more terrifying than hearing, in the dead of night, a sheep cry out in pain and then whimper into silence.

The dark isn't scary.

Oh no, the dark is just the atmosphere. If you open up the tent flap and peer out, trying to not make a sound as you look for the source of the shriek, the dark is the most terrifying thing you will ever not see.

Because not being able to see means not being able to know what's just killed a sheep.

And not knowing that makes you a shaking, terrified wreck. And causes you to stay awake from 4 in the morning until sunrise, clasping onto your paltry Swiss army knife praying that whatever just killed a sheep won't notice your bright red fucking dome-shaped tent in the middle of the green forest.
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:47, 3 replies)

I am a very bad man
'Twas a dark and stormy night, clearing later, occaisional showers of fish and I was bored and slightly drunk. The rain had stopped about an hour ago but it was as dark as the soul of an advertising executive.

I knew that there was supposed to be a beach party that night, hardly anyone I knew but better than sitting in a creaking hut and waiting for nothing to happen. So I got up, grabbed my grandfather's old black sou'wester mac and hat and looking like a refugee from "I know what you did last summer", slipped out the door. I had to walk down past the old Priory, now a hotel and between the clouds and the trees it was blacker than Satan's ballsack. Up ahead was a line of tea candle lamps so I grabbed one and headed down to the beach.

A hundred yards ahead were 30 people round a small campfire tripping their little nuts off so I decided that a prank was in order. Swinging my lantern ahead of me, dragging one leg and moaning like an uncouth zombie I staggered towards the light.

They shat themselves, apparently if your tripping your gourd off a zombie/psycho/ancient mariner type is not who you want impinging on your conciousness. When the screaming died down I was soundly cursed for destroying their peace of mind, disturbing ley lines and generally being an arse. So I told them that I'd only come down to warn them about the poisonous, flesh burrowing sand hoppers and left them to to enjoy a night of tears and frantic scratching.
(Falco, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:07, 4 replies)

Cycling home from work
Many years ago i worked in a pub a good few miles from my home.

Usually i would take the bus or get a lift home, but i'd acquired a bicycle and with that a habit of forcing myself to travel further afield in the aims of keeping fit, decided to bike to and from work.

One night, i was a wee bit giddy, having indulged in a little bit of herbal smokage after hours and was pretty much set for my journey home.
Now i'm not of a cowardly or indeed nervous disposition, usually dealing with danger head on.
But not that night... It was kind of around the time 'Silent Hill' was released on the playstation and i'd been playing it obsessively for the last few weeks and was eager to get home and finally complete the game.

Anyways i mounted the bike and trundled off, not realising how late it actually was (close to midnight) and i headed down the by-pass following the cycle path along side the usually busy main road.

A mile or so along the incredibly long stretch of road, i started to develop a rather irrational fear of being followed. So i glanced back and naturally saw nothing... and continued. But all was quiet, no cars had passed me in the last twenty minutes.

Again this nagging feeling intensified by the marajuana jitters continued to grow and grow and i began to really get freaked out. To the left of me was a field, which was rather picturesque during daylight hours, but at night its vast emptiness conjured sinister feelings of loneliness and vast emptiness. Ahead of me nothing stirred... And to the right a few rows of houses were the only things that suggested human life, although only a few lights were actually on, adding to my irrational fear.

For many miles i was alone on this stretch of road, and STILL i had a growing sense of doom and paranoia. No sign of anyone, no cars, no people, nothing....

Then... The universe decided to fuck with me.

All of a sudden the street lights vanished, plunging me into near darkness... Suddenly alarm bells started ringing, shattering the night time silence with shrieking wails... Here i was totally alone now in the countryside, with nothing but darkness and loud industrial sounds for company.

Oh my god.. I thought, i'd fallen through the veil to the dark side. I was still many miles from home and now i'd somehow wandered into silent fucking hill.

Well, in actual fact the local area had suffered a temporary power failure, triggering every burglar alarm off for many miles around and knocking off the street lights.

Still.. I nearly shat myself.

Damn my over active imagination and drug fuelled paranoia.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:05, 3 replies)

HOTDOG - GHOST
Back in 1990, as a fresh faced fifteen year old I made the ultimate sacrifice for my then girlfriend, Gemma. I may just as well have got down on one knee and proposed, it was that fucking serious a commitment.

I agreed to take her to see this new film with Demi Moore and that bloke out of the uber-gay flick, Dirty Dancing, featuring the annoying black woman who was in the Muppets occasionally - I agreed to take Gemma to see Ghost.

Obviously, this was hard for me. Very hard. After half an hour or so of tedious hand holding banality, realizing that Patrick Sway-zeeee had died (horay! - short film), but then, unfortunately returned as a fucking ghost (bit of a Ronseal moment, really), I decided to go and stock up on snacks. Gemma was a great girl, but she was a good girl, no fondling or gropage for me that night - and the only way I was going to get through this utter bullshit was by eating my own bodyweight in processed snacks.

I excused myself, made my way out the dark auditorium, went to the kiosk. Stocked up on grab - big bag of maltesers, check, opal fruits (fuck starburst), check, nachos, check, hotdog, check - no mustard, no onions, just plain in the bun how mother nature meant it, fuck off huge bucket of coke, check.

Weighed down, I go back to see what delightful scatter-brained antics Whoopie-sodding-Goldberg's got lined up for me. I find the correct row, recognise Gemma's distinct high ponytail hairdo, and move along until I'm back safe and secure. I sit and eat. Gemma helps herself to the odd morsel. I start looking round, seeing how many maltesers I can fit in my gob in one go. After a few more minutes I decide to experiment - I removed the hotdog from the bun and use the bread to make an opal fruit sandwich. Hmmmm. Not fucking bad, not fucking bad at all.

After a while Gemma whispers in my ear: "Oooooh, that's soooo naughty! .......... What do you think?"

I whisper back: "It's really good..."

She returns her attention back to the dross onscreen. Then, a few moments later, Gemma says, sounding rather concerned: "Is that good?"

What??? Ermmm.... "Yes, that's excellent," I reply, not really understanding. The intense goo factor of the film must've warped her brain or something.

Then, a few seconds later, looking straight ahead, Gemma goes: "Am I doing it right?"

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

"Errr, yes.... it's... ermmm.... lovely," I whisper back.

Silence, for a while. Then suddenly: "OH, MY GOD!!!" Gemma nearly jumps out of her seat, she screams, then develops the outburst further with: "I'VE BROKEN IT!!! GOD, I'VE BROKEN IT!!! SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!!! OH, GOD!!!" And then she started crying.

Caused quite a commotion, I can tell you. Lots of angry shhhhhshhhhhhes, which is tantamount to receiving a series of repeated punches in the face in your average English cinema. Even had the dreaded torch flashed in our direction by one of the ushers, who gave us a look that said: 'Shut the fuck up, cuntbags.' I apologised for my girlfriend's weird outburst, wondering if she'd just developed tourettes or suddenly come on the blob (hey, I was fifteen). Then I realised something incredible. Something amazing. Something incredibly exciting.

Gemma was staring at my cock.

Well, not at my cock, but in that general area. I looked down at my crotch and I saw -

my poor hotdog sausage, broken and battered, mashed to a pulp.

I was a bit slow back then. I didn't twig until I returned home later... Then I repeatedly banged my head against the wall for being such a fucking retarded prick. Well and truly missed my chance, there. Well and fucking truly.

Turns out Gemma had been quietly watching Ghost, getting all sentimental and teary-eyed, sitting in the cinema with her first proper boyfriend, feeling strange feelings rage through her adolecent body for the first time must've made her feel, well, for want of a better word, horny, or to expand on that, horny as a horny fucking toad watching Swedish porn, drinking Spanish fly while sitting on a tumbledrier on super spin cycle, horny.

Gemma had been systematically wanking off the long, hot, meaty object I had nestled in my lap.

My fucking hotdog sausage.

I was absolutely gutted. I felt like killing myself on the spot. It was the closest I ever got to anything approaching sex with Gemma, put her off any form of cock-Olympics with me bigtime, that incident did. She now works at Barclaycard in Northampton; she's got about seven kids, well, I'm pleased that episode didn't put her off the cock for life, I suppose.

... bugger ...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 0:57, 7 replies)

An introduction to Resident Evil
so there it is - it's 1997, and I've just been introduced (a bit late, I know, but I'd never been convinced of consoles prior to that) to the wonders of the Sony Playstation.

now, I'm among game fans here I know, and even non-gamers must have heard of RE by now, but back then I was an innocent... I'd heard vague rumblings and seen the odd advert in gaming mags, but not much beyond that.

so... I happen by the dodgy console shop near my parents one morning, and see a second hand copy for not much... so I grab it. head off to work, and I'm htere till about 2am. get in, have a bath, and then think I'll have a go on my new game... in the dark.

I lasted about fifteen minutes. then I had to sit up till daytime with all the lights in every room on till I was able to go back to sleep.

I'm such a scaredy cat. :(
(tjn whizzing on the electric fence of life, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 0:47, 9 replies)

I was driving up the wrong side of Loch Awe ...
... not the main road, the sensible A819 that cuts up, cross country, from Loch Fyne before hitting Awe's north end, nor indeed the B840 that goes alongside the loch's eastern shore ... but the single track logging road, full of potholes, that runs from the tiny village of Ford to the hamlets of Dalavich, Inverinan and Kilchrenan among others, seldom visited places, quiet always except for the rumble of forestry lorries and the exclamations of affronted sheep ... the road does eventually wend its way back to something that might be marked on a map ... eventually

it was a curious route but i was heading from the old neolithic stones in Kilmartin to the hotel at Ardanaiseig and main road options would have added many, many miles to the journey ... the pitted, holed, single track was the best and shortest bet and since it was night time there was no need to worry about the view; this was an issue of time and efficiency, not aesthetics

i tempted fate with the hire car's suspension on several occasions, bouncing and crashing through unseen potholes, and was most of the way to Ardanaiseig when a thought occurred ... if i slowed down and turned the beams off on this lonely road, i would be in perfect darkness... so i did

there were clouds scudding by in the winter sky but stars were clearly visible: bright, faraway, tempting stars ... sky gems for tales and projections, fantasies of old gods and future, empirical possibilities ... they were beautiful, so i thought i might get out of the driver's seat for a moment, stand on the tarmac, smell the trees and the heather, damp at night, and witness the speckled sky at first hand rather than through a pane of safety glass ...

as i stepped out, i felt a sudden unease ... as if i was immediately vulnerable, naked outside my little metal bubble ... although i could see the stars and the cloud shapes, the land around was as dark as can be imagined - ancient, boreal darkness ... and perhaps my unease reflected a deep-seated genetic memory of beasts and predators crashing out from the gathered gloom to trouble our less fortunate ancestors; perhaps i'm just scared of the dark ... i was thinking about this, telling myself i was a grown man, not to worry about childish anxieties then the noise came ... like a dog suddenly running close by, panting, it was all so fast ... one moment i was standing by the car, the next a pure adrenalin rush of fear-flight-fight flooded through me ... i had no idea what was coming but it reached me in seconds, very few seconds, hot breath and wetness on my face, something hairy, unknowable and muscular, a capable, maleficient agent of the night come for me, oh christ it had come for me ...

my hand span out, blindly, to strike it away .. i turned, i shrieked like a woman, i had never felt so alive or so endangered, so present but so aware that any second could bring pain ... and still i heard the pad of its feet right by me, the horrible panting sound, and i did not know which way to turn to defend myself - and then i heard the voice, oh my god a voice ...

"Sheba! Dinna bother the man Sheba, come here now, he's probably hae'in a pee, come here, come here..."

Yes I had nearly shat my pants because a fucking collie - being walked by some bloke from one of the houses at Coillaig – had bounced up on me from nowhere and licked my face...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 0:13, 2 replies)

Tent Fighting
I used to work for a crappy hotel in the middle of nowhere in Portugal. The place was about 8 miles from the nearest town as the crow flies, but to get there you had to go over about 18 miles of road and dirt track. It was isolated. The owners couldn't be bothered stumping up for staff accommodation so I lived in a tent about 3/4 of a mile from the hotel, on a spur of land that over looked a lake. They worked us like dogs (18 hour days were the average, 20 hours not exceptional) so the whole time we were in a constant state of exhaustion. This was also not helped by the large amounts of alcohol consumed.

One night I finished up in the kitchen-bar area at 3am, ready and fresh to start work again at 6.30am. I got a candle and tramped the 3/4 of a mile to my tent. It was absolutely pitch black and I knew as I walked along that one side of the path was a steep thorn covered slope down to the lake - if I fell (drunk as I was) I wasn't getting out. I got to my tent and started to drop off.

Then I noticed something move underneath the tent. Something wriggly, hissy and strong. Something whose lump felt distinctly reptilian. Immediately I jumped to the conclusion that it was a snake (I'd seen several that day). I can't emphasise how much I hate snakes. I really really hate them.

I started to panic... drunkenly I thought that a snake had taken shelter under my tent and was now pissed off at being lain on. It moved and I moved. It hissed and a tiny dribble of pee appeared on my boxer shorts. It moved again so I picked up one of the bricks I used to put my shoes on and started flailing wildly at the floor.

If anyone had been watching, the sight of a drunken, semi-naked man going crazy with a brick in a tent might have been quite amusing. For me, however, the increasing sounds of agitation from the creature below merely reinforced my drunken perception that I was fighting for my life. The cold bile of pure panic tasted bitter in my mouth as I struck again and again at the enraged creature below me. Finally I struck home, heard something crack and the noise stopped.

In the silence I sat there... sweat dripping off me and the smell of pee diffusing through the tent. I didn't sleep that night. When dawn came I gingerly unzipped my tent, leapt for freedom and almost landed on one of the hotel dogs who had come to say hello. The dog looked at me, I at the dog. It sniffed, and started rooting around under the tent before coming out with a rather harmless looking, yet very dead, lizard clamped in its jaws. The kind of lizard the dogs chased, and occasionally caught, on a daily basis. The wave of relief pouring over me was pretty quickly replaced with a wave of shame and guilt.

Still haven't ever been quite so terrified as that night though.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 23:59, Reply)

Noah's vessel of choice
Not many people know this, but it came to rest in a glacier. Took a thousand years to find it, but when it was discovered, it was a thawed ark.



I'm really sorry...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 23 Jul 2009, 23:59, Reply)

Stop the fucking banging will you?
I used to have a neighbour. Her bedroom was next to mine because of the way that the terrace was laid out. Nice woman; it transpired that she was the district nurse who was assigned to my missus when she had Sweary Jr. Small world, but nothing compared to the range of coincidences that raised themselves afterwards.

Anyway.

She was doing her house up, and had negotiated a 'labour for shag' transaction scheme. So basically, all the work was done for nothing ,bar a go on the tradesman's pump-action tool of the trade. If a plasterer and a brickie overlapped, then she made sure she had a slot for both of them...

This got a bit wearing as I was trying to drift off each night, only to be awoken by the gentle 'thump-thud-thump-thud' of her headboard against the wall of her bedroom, which resonated in my bedroom. Every night. And it would get louder. 'THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-Thump-thud-thump-thud-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUMP-THUD-thump-thud-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD... endless, rising and falling, up and down, louder, softer, louder, softer.

I used to refer to it as her 'thud-arc'...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 23 Jul 2009, 23:45, 1 reply)

The Cinema
I only really go to the cinema if I am seeing a man and I haven't got him to snog me yet.

Not much else to add.

Oh, sometimes I go if I'm with someone who is mad into cinema, and I get bored.
(lympicita_ie, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 23:15, Reply)

unwanted attention
several years ago, i was spending the night in my parent's house due to mine being flooded.
about 1.30 a.m, everyone else was in bed and i was sitting alone in the living room, watching dracula with the lights off.
after a while, i began to get the feeling that someone was watching me. now, as i've already said, i'm a paranoid bugger, so i put it down to that.
an hour later, the feeling hadn't gone away. i decided to look out of the window, just to check.
in the light of the streetlamp, i could just about see that the garden was empty. i was about to sit back down, when a movement caught my eye. i looked sideways and there, leaning against the wall of the house, was a bloke of roughly 24, pants round his ankles and cock in hand, obviously hitting the vinegar strokes.
at this point, i didn't know whether to be freaked out or laugh, so i phoned the police.
he must have realised what i was doing, as he finished up quickly and waddled off down the path, still largely untrousered. the police arrived soon after, but they never caught him.

length? quite impressive, actually.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 23:13, Reply)

caving
long and not really that interesting.

my first experience with true dark was when I went caving and after traveling into the deep bowels of the cave, the group i was with stopped and formed a circle. after the circle was formed we all turned of our lights and we were plunged into pitch black, I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face, and as the group quited down we began to hear the sounds coming from the cave the tiny plick plop plick plop coming from all around as the moisture condensed on the roof and dripped onto the cave floor to mix with the mud (which we were told was so full of minerals that you could scoop it of the floor and plaster it on your face and it would be better than one of those cleansing face masks) and after about 10 minutes of pure quite bliss in the dark we slowly turned the lights back on and headed back home.
(radial head fracture, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 22:59, Reply)

ZOMBIES!
I don't know why, but for some reason I have this weird interest in zombies. I have loads of films featuring them, and the Zombie Survival Guide book. Unfortunately, I am also ridiculously paranoid.
I have actually had to force myself to not watch any of the films, nor read the book, because I know I'll be paranoid for days after.

No matter how much I tell myself that - clearly - they don't exist, I can't help but picture things in my mind. Whenever I walk the dog at night, I concoct little scenarios in my head: What if I saw a zombie over there? Would I run back to my house? Would I try and fight it in case it followed me? Do I have enough wood to barricade the doors and windows? Will my dog take that exact moment to take a dump?

More than once, whilst reading the Zombie Survival Guide, I have thought if it would be worth stockpiling the things it recommends in the book, up in the loft, 'just in case'.

So anyway, what does this have to do with the dark? I'm getting to it you impatient twat.

I'm alone in my house, which is quite unusual in itself. So, what do you think I do, at 10pm at night? That's right, stick in Dawn of the Dead. Even now, I'm banging my head on the desk at the thought.

The film is about 3-quarters through, just at the point where they are trying to get to Andy, the guy in the Gun Shop. And there is a powercut. I am absolutely shitting myself now, because I have no idea what's going on, I'm all alone in the dark, after watching a scary film about something which already gives me the creeps.

I swear I spent a good 10 minutes just quietly sitting at the window, peeking out, seeing if I can see any shambling forms or hear any keening moans. I finally managed to pry myself from the window, and found a torch. I spent the rest of the night huddled in my room, door shut and barred with a chair, trying to find anything to occupy my mind. But as soon as I start drifting off the sleep, my mind keep coming back to that fucking film!

That was about 4 years ago, and I still sleep with the bedside lamp on. I'm 24 years old.
Ultimately, it's not fear, but paranoia, that conjures up my boogie-men. It's still fucking pathetic though.


Edit:: Also, there was the time when - while still attending primary school (so you can get an idea of how young I was) - I went to a friend's house at night and watched Chucky, then walked home in the dark. I was halfway home when I cottoned on that I should be sort of scared after watching that film then walking in the dark, and I legged it home as fast as I could.
( OneSullenBrit *air sandwiches*, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 22:57, 2 replies)

poo in the dark
I used to work in a cinema. Dark cinemas are the perfect place to hide things, because even with the lights on, you can never see perfectly.
So if you're ever in a cinema and there are children crying all around you because there's an intense smell, like the inside of a cow's bum, it's because some pig molesting toss stain has done a poo in a Coke cup and hidden it somewhere to fester for 3 weeks.
At the end of this stinky period, one plucky young employee will find said cup, and take the lid off, curious about the treasures that lurk within.
I hate dark places.
(reducedfatLOLcat, Thu 23 Jul 2009, 22:49, 1 reply)