A Story
A few years back in secondary school a guy in my form tutor decide it would be funny to push me off a table I was sat on. Waking up 5 minutes later after the crack on the head and a stack of chairs falling onto my pastey body I went home.

Later that night I was hallucinating that I was a WWII soldier who had their legs blown off. I was inbetween sleep and awake so not being able to move put the shits up me. Now this was not fun at all.
( Mr. Street, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:56, Reply)

The time i couldnt move...
I suffer from nightmares frequently where i can see a ghost, but cant shout/scream or move, i am totally paralysed.

It was an early summers night at my parents house while they were away in prague, i'd just got in from work and i set off straight for bed, i went into my room and i saw that my duvet was on the floor, now i hadnt let it like that, and there had been nobody in the house since i left. I marked it down to my laziness at making my bed, of which i promptly collapsed into, as it had been a tough day.

In the middle of the night, i was aware that i was not alone. footsteps. on the landing. outside my room. Thinking it to be burglars, i reached for my airgun like the quietest gun reaching for youve ever seen (heard). I crept to door, absolutley bricking it, i noticed that the footsteps stopped. Had they heard me? i went onto the landing. no-one there. Shit. searched the house. top to bottom, no sign of antthing EVER being there, let alone still be there, the doors were still locked, and no windows were broken. starting to get a different kind of scared.

i went off back to bed in a somewhat nervous state, i dont know exatly, but it felt like hour before i drifted to sleep.

But yet there it was again. Footsteps. Thats fucking breathing.

I can hear fucking breathing.

Out there on the fucking landing. I know its not fucking burglars either, and was i fuck going to find out. I lay there curled up like a fucking cashew nut, terrified out of my wits, with no-one to hear my scream, even if i could or wanted to. I must have lay there for hours until first light came, and i mustered the courage to close my eyes and drift off.

That night occured just as it does in my dreams, i cant move or scream for fear of it knowing of my presence...yet this was no dream, the gun laying by my pillow confirmed this upon waking up...



Length? You wouldnt be whining about length if you were there
(EvelcyclopS, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:53, Reply)

I must have been about nine
Must have been. And somehow I'd ended up inside my duvet. AND COULDN'T GET OUT. Shit? I nearly made my paisley jimmies go a more seventies shade of brown.
(Give me the cheese you cocksucker No board sig in protest., Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:41, Reply)

Don't Look Down
Last time I was genuinely scared was in the spring of 2005. I was on the night crew working a month-long shutdown at an oil refinery. We had one unit left to test for the night, a bank of cooling fans sitting way up on a platform some 200 to 250 feet high. A strong line of thunderstorms were due to hit around 7am. Now, it was only around 2:30, so we had lots of time to do the job, but we were concerned about the wind - it had begun to really pick up, steady around 50 km/h, gusts to around 90.

Instead of hauling all 200 lbs. of gear up with us to find out that it's too windy, we decided to head up to the location and check to see how sheltered the east face was from the wind. So we begin our ascent. The path up is comprised of 6 sets of open (save for the top 5 or so feet, which is caged)ladders that zig-zag their way around the tower. I was lead, and once I got within 7 feet of the top level - WHOOSH!! - a 100 km/h gust hit me square in the body. The Nomex parka I was wearing, while keeping me quite warm, acted like a parafoil - my entire body was lifted into an almost horizontal position. Had I not had a death-grip on the rungs I surely would have become swept away to fall to my messy death. As soon as I was back firmly on the ladder, the guys decided we should go back down and relax in our trailer until it was time to go back to the hotel. I happily agreed.
( Hosehead, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:38, Reply)

Also
Just before Christmas, cycling back from the pub pissed enough to feel invunerable (I'm 5ft 6, so this often gets me into trouble).

So I get onto a roundabout, in the right hand lane to turn right. I've got lights on an everything. Some tosspot in a Merc blats right up behind me, revving and beeping. I'm in the correct lane, and so see fit to give the finger and suggest that the occupants of said vehicle are a bunch of wankers. Well, they were.

Anyhow, as I move left to come off my exit they screech past me... only for me to find them pulled up at the side of the road a few hundred yards after the exit. 5 asian blokes get out as I approach and spread themselves across the road. I somehow managed to weave my way through them without getting a kicking and fucked off down the nearest ally. I felt stone cold sober after that.
(Mr. Partyhat, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:37, Reply)

Lady Diana Spencer's Funeral
and a bypass my current home town/city had just opened. No obvious connection there, but my brain was ticking over.

99% of Britain would be watching the TV. Police drafted in countrywide, to London.
So T thought " I wonder how fast my car goes?" Normally, I'm a boringly reliable driver. Hell, I've owned diesel Landrovers : I didn't need speed. But here was a once in a lifetime chance.

So, as the hearse headed to Westminster Abbey, I set off. First, scouting the road, seeing just how busy it was, whether the police were sitting on any overpasses etc. Quiet. Back to the start of the bypass and stopped.Deep breath. Music off. No other cars visible, so...off I go.

Speed picks up quite rapidly, and at 70, paranoia begins. Was that a policeman with a speedgun. Still push on. Then, a white car ahead of me in the distance. Shit! But, it was so unlikely to be Mr Plod. Carry on. Speed continues to rise, and I pass a white Fiat, and, phew, seemed to be a pensioner.

Notice that any steering corrections need to be glacier-slow. Anything faster, and the car lurched worringly. Wind noise was surprisingly low, but my heart was beating like a disco-beat.

Still the car accelerated, but an depreciating rate. Eyes glued of the road, with glances at the speedo. Steering wheeled gripped as tho' it might escape. Wheel started wobbling, and the veins in forehead starte throbbing.

It felt like there were a few more mph's to go, but I bottled it. Foot off the accelerator, stuck it into neutral (yeah...I know) and coasted. Sweat dripping into my eye, but I still gripped the steering wheel like my life depended on it.

Back down at 30, I puuled off the road and let my heart calm down. After what seemed like an eternity, the OAP mobile passed by, and I headed back home at a very steady 30.

So, thanks to Mr Gatso, I'm unlikely to repeat that.
127 MPH
On an A-Road
In a Rover 820
On remoulds
And survived.
With brown underpants.

Length : you love it.
( Tepid_Halibut felt like a cold, empty shell of a human...until, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:32, Reply)

shit the bed. almost.
Before moving to my current address, I rented a room in a terraced house on Histon road in Cambs.

On two seperate occasions my CD player started at full volume and in the middle of a track at some ungodly hour in the morning. I was so fucking petrified I couldn't move, not even swearing from the other occupants and finally banging from next door could persuade me to abandon the combined safety of the corner of the room and my duvet.

How I didn't shit the bed I'll never know.

The CD player never did it before or after that house.
(Mr. Partyhat, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:27, Reply)

Well I felt stupid...
Spiders are fascinated with my bathroom. Specifically, my shower.

Now, I HATE spiders. They scare the crap out of me. I just don't like the creepy little buggers.

One morning as I was getting into the shower, I notice a nice healthy fat spider with a body about the size of a quarter. Cringe. Of course, I'm naked and I don't want to go anywhere near it. So I spend about twenty minutes spraying it with hairspray and window-cleaner. It isn't dying. So I try setting it on fire with a candle. But it's too wet to burst into flames, so it just crisps and finally falls on the floor and condescends to die.

Ugh.

After experiences like this, I tend to be jumpy for the rest of the day, freaking out when hair/headphones cord/anything touches me.

Which brings me round to the answer to the question: the last time I was really scared was when - after killing said spider - I had a brief moment of pure panic when something started tickling my inner thigh. Aaaah! Flail!

Oh. It's my tampon string. Right.
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:16, Reply)

A couple of months back...
Walking home from the pub around 2am, was in a glorious mood owing to the drink. I walked up past Tesco and turned the corner... There they were... 15 terrifying looking hoodied yobbo's with their glass bottles and sweary shouty voices.

In an attempt to 'blend in' and walk through them un-noticed I put my hood up myself (quite why I thought this would work escapes me). They let me walk past. I was roughly 10 feet away when it started. The broken remnants of a glass bottle flyed past my head. I picked up speed a bit, in that weird way people do to show that they're not intimitated but at the same time secretly shitting themselves.

I heard shouting, i sneaked a look behind me, they were walking at me, still shouting and throwing bottles. A bottle hit me on the back, I started running, they started running, I tried to hide in an alleyway, like people do on films. I stopped, expecting them to run straight past the alley, but alas they saw me run down there. I started running again, not knowing where I can run to, i was still a good 20 minutes from home. It was at this point a little bit of wee came out, i was absolutely terrified by this point they'll catch up with me and probably rape me then maul my face off with broken glass.

Then I had an idea, I headed up to Tesco (it was a 24 hour one after all). I finally made it inside the door, walked up to the security guard and before I could say a word, I started crying. Alcohol-fuelled sobbing about the fact I was finally safe. The police were called, they never caught the cunts but I got a free lift home.

I'm 24.
(wayneofthedead Dale Winton was my dad, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 20:04, Reply)

Lost, redux
That reminded me of another story of being stranded...

When I was about 20 I worked in a restaurant kitchen a good distance across downtown Rochester NY from where I was living. Usually I took the bus to work, as I didn't own a car. I worked the day shift, from about 7 to 4, so it was no big deal, really.

Well, this particular restaurant doubled as a club on the weekends. This was about 1983, and we had Cyndi Lauper, Joan Jett, Hot Tuna, the drummer from Journey and some other moderately big names come through. For the bigger shows, they had me work the night shift to help out at the bar. Generally speaking, someone would give me a ride home, so it was fine with me.

One night (I think it was when Joan Jett was there) I stayed, and afterward went to go home- and no one could give me a lift. I had had this happen before- it was annoying, but if I caught the last bus downtown it was only about a four mile walk to my apartment. (At 1:00 am the hookers are even willing to talk to passers-by, so at least I wasn't totally lonely.) But this night I was just late enough that I had missed that bus- so now it was more like a ten mile walk. And it was snowing, hard.

Okay, think I, time for Plan B. At that hour of the morning, people are pretty charitable about picking up hitchhikers, so I go to the expressway to stick out my thumb. Only problem is, now it's lake effect snow coming down, and that means that it's blizzard conditions- and visibility is about 200 feet. I curse hard and plan to hike along the expressway to get home. (Plan C, I guess that is.)

Then I hear a godawful roar of engine behind me. I turn around and there's a tow truck coming toward me, dragging a tractor trailer (a lorry, for you Brits). It's not moving very fast as it goes by- and before I could think it through, I ran like hell and caught the handles of the doors on the back of the trailer and jumped up onto the bumper.

So now I'm riding on the back bumper of a truck which is accelerating along an expressway in the middle of a fucking huge snowstorm, and I have no idea how I'm going to get off of it without killing myself. And to make it even better, it was fucking COLD.

Fortunately the gods watch out for children and idiots. The truck got off at an exit close to my apartment, so when he stopped at the traffic light I jumped off and walked past. The expression on the driver's face as I waved to him was priceless.

By all rights I should have been killed or seriously wounded, or at least frozen.

Not as long this time, but plenty of girth to satisfy...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:54, Reply)

Kids, wife and dog
One of the most scary things i've been through? Hearing the screech of a car and a thump from outside my door when my 2 year old and 5 year old were outside playing. Turns out a neighbours daughter had been hit and suffered a broken leg which was bad enough.

I came home one day to find an empty house, a broken window and blood all over the floor and walls. Wifey had put her hand through the glass and slashed her wrist badly enough to be rushed to hospital.

Last one for now. Walking my dog down a particulary dark (ie pitch black) supposedly haunted walkway under a railway at god knows what o'clock only for said dog to stop dead, hairs rising on his back, and give a very deep, very vicious growl at the darkest part of the walkway. Would he come back to me - no. Would I go anywhere near the dark place - no. Had the most pantwettingly awful feeling ever as I slowy backed away back up the walkway calling to my dog.
(Tyrion, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:45, Reply)

I was alone in the house
on the phone to my fiance, only four days ago.

He suddenly became incredibly breathless and dizzy and from that point on appeared to be having a heart attack. No fucking joke.

I'd only come home from seeing him the previous day and was facing the prospect of life without a man I'd agreed to marry only a few days beforehand. The ambulance couldn't find his house. The pains kept getting worse. Every time he hung up to call them back and give them directions I spent the silence shrieking at the walls, trying to phone my dad at my sister's house (no answer) and mum on her mobile (no answer).

After an hour and a half of solid screaming panic attack I finally got through to my mum who was just coming home from somewhere, and she managed to calm me down. By this point he was in hospital and seemed not to be in any danger - in fact after tests it turned out his heart was perfectly healthy and whatever it was seemed to have been some sort of phantom heart attack.

That's the second time I've been faced with the potential death of a partner and I'd quite like it to be my last.
( Spazzcat jam out with your clam out, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:31, Reply)

When I
Found a lump on one of the old testiclé. Shat me right up
(Nyphur, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:23, Reply)

Lost!
One of the scariest moments in recent memory came just after one of the happiest. Bear with me- this is a very long story, but worth it.

Remember last spring when David Gilmour did twelve concerts in support of his new album? When the tickets went on sale I swore an unholy oath that I would get to see him or die trying- he's one of my favorite musicians of all time, and a hero of mine besides. (He does massive amounts of charity work, very quietly, and also supported Syd Barret through the remainder of his life. Gilmour is an incredible person.)

Well, I got one ticket, to Gibson Ampitheater in Universal City, CA. I then got hold of an ex girlfriend who is a travel agent and got a round trip ticket to Los Angeles, staying for one night.

It wasn't until I got there that I realized how mad this was.

I'm not insane enough to rent a car and drive around an unfamiliar city, especially one like LA. Nor do I have the money to spend on taking a cab from LAX to Universal City. So I consulted with the girl at the hotel desk and got info on the bus/train system they have there, and planned out my route. I got there in good time, talked to some guys on the train and found out they were going to the concert as well, and followed them.

The concert was phenomenal- he had Richard Wright with him and they performed "Echoes"- and I left with an incredible glow. I followed the crowd out, figuring I would get back the way I came- only to realize that I had no clue as to where the train station I arrived in was. And everything was closing, as it was after 11:00.

I was on the other side of Los Angeles from my hotel, with no idea how to get back. I was completely lost.

I finally found some hippie stoner guys who were about my age (that is, in their forties), and they said they knew where the terminal was. They agreed to drive me to it, so we all piled into their 70s sedan and drove (picture the beginning of "Wayne's World", only 20 years later). They got me there, and I thanked them profusely and ran down to the train.

I had to do two transfers to get back. The first one was fine- but at the second one, it turned out that the last train had already gone. I was stranded after midnight somewhere in downtown LA, and now I really had no idea how to get home- and my flight to Virginia was leaving in about six hours.

I struck up a conversation with the only other person there, a kid who happened also to be coming back from the concert, and he had no clue either of how to get home and was on the edge of panic. To him I was a Grown Up who could help him get home, so he was looking up to me to figure out what to do.

Apparently I do well under pressure. I found a call box that went to the central office for the train/bus system, and they told me where to go to get to the last bus of the night. I grabbed the kid and we sprinted a couple of blocks, only to see the bus leaving. I cursed- and then spotted a car nearby with the logo of the transportation company on it. It turned out to be a supervisor who happened to be there to check on something, and he radioed the bus to tell them to wait at the next stop. We got on the bus- and it turned out that he only goes to about three miles from where I am staying.

Fuck.

Well, I got the kid dropped off and rode to the end of the route, and got the driver (an Asian with extremely broken English) to tell me how to get to the road I needed. By this time it's after 1:00, and I'm still stranded in a city I've never been in before, but at least now I know where I'm going. I got off the bus and proceeded to hike to the hotel, which took me through a couple of pretty bad areas. (Fortunately I'm about six feet tall, so people generally don't mess with me much.) I walked quickly past the homeless types in their doorways, all too conscious of the cash and credit cards in my pocket as I went through an area with half-demolished buildings with lots of graffiti, and ultimately made it to the hotel by about 2:00.

In retrospect it really was insane of me to do this- I know little to nothing of LA, don't know anyone there, and had not planned it out at all. I had ad libbed the whole thing, and made it intact mostly through amazing luck- but being stranded in the middle of LA after midnight is not an experience I ever wish to repeat. Although it made for a night that I will remember for the rest of my life...

No apologies for length- just bend over and take it all. And love it.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:21, Reply)

That'll teach me
When I was about 9 all the cool kids at school were watching 'Hammer House of Horror' on TV on a Saturday night. But my parents wouldn't let me watch it, reasoning that it would be too scary for my delicate psyche.

But with admirable ingenuity I managed to wangle the small portable TV into my bedroom early in the week, on the pretext of watching something 'educashunal'.

Saturday night rolls round, TV sneakily goes on , volume down so low my eyeballs are resting on the screen in order to hear. Hammer time.

This attractive young couple were lost in the woods (it happens) after their car stalls, and happened across a castle, in the dark. Long story short, they get shown to their room by some stereotypical freak, exchange lots of banalities about how lucky they were etc. Then Mrs walks across the room and yanks open the curtains.

There's a werewolf sitting on the window ledge.

I jumped out of my skin, back into it, and jumped out again for good measure. Heart racing for to burst. Trembling violently. And for the next few YEARS was scared to go near a set of drawn curtains, and slept with my bedroom door open and landing light on. Couldn't even tell my parents about it because I wasn't supposed to be watching in the first place. I guess they were right.....

Getting palpitations just writing this down, many years later.
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:18, Reply)

It was a few years ago
During the course of a fairly routine x-ray,the doctors discovered a swelling in my wife's chest.A CT scan is scheduled.Before said scan is due,we discover that she is pregnant.CT scan goes ahead which discovers large mass in chest cavity.Oh dear.Possible cancer.And up the duff.There follow 2 biopsies with a needle under local anaesthetic,which prove inconclusive.A more invasive one under general is arranged.We arrive at the hospital the day before to be told the baby could be deformed by the anaesthetic.Brilliant.(We were later told by another Dr. that this was bullshit.)So,the operation is performed and a week later its official.She has the big C.What now?
Well,she has a rare cancer and there is very,very little information about having chemo for this cancer whilst pregnant,but what they do know is that its "safe" for the baby given in the 3rd trimester.At this point she is about 4 months along.So,a decision is made to wait till she delivers before having treatment.A few weeks later,wifey starts to get short of breath and struggle to get around.The lump is growing rapidly and restricting her breathing.I badger the GP into getting oxygen for her,because she can't move from one room to the next without all but passing out.By this point,we decide she needs to start treatment,or she'll die before she gives birth.She begins chemo,which is very traumatic at the best of time,let alone when you are pregnant.Luckily,it starts to help very quickly and shrink the lump,so she can breathe again.She has a few cycles of chemo and then a break before she gives birth,to give her a chance to recover a little.My daughter is born naturally and there isn't a thing wrong with her.She is perfect in every way.I was absolutely terrified as she popped out,as we had no idea how she'd be.My wife continued her treatment and then had radiotherapy.To date,she is absolutely fine,other than the effects of the chemotherapy,which to be honest are really bad,but better than death.My daughter is at school and doing really well and there is no way you'd ever know what she went through.That is the last time I was really scared,other than periodic blips when she has her yearly check ups.
(archroy Get down wi' yer bad self., Thu 22 Feb 2007, 19:12, Reply)

Oh yeah and...
one other thing stands out. I think I was about 14 and me and my pals had just discovered the three secrets of hash, hard liquor and loud music. Girls would come later - we were still on the 'nick some magnesium from the science labs and let's fuckin' burn it yeah!!!!' stage.

Anyway three of us were in my shed getting pissed and stoned like only 14-year-olds can. We'd put Nevermind on some time earlier and had it fed through my guitar amp so it was good and loud. The last track had finished some time ago and nobody noticed 'cos we were horsing around. Probably taking it in turns jumping off the table onto an air mattress and whooping or something, or shouting about how pissed we were.

Anyway, there's quite a menacing little secret track at the end of Nevermind that comes on about ten minutes after you think the album's finished. We didn't know about this and consequently shit ourselves, all screamed like girls and actually huddled up together, wild-eyed, for protection from this mystery death noise from nowhere. Brrrr...
(Whizzer, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 18:59, Reply)

Lost in the fog
A few summers ago I decided to go trekking in the Pyrenees for a couple of weeks. There's a trail that goes all the way from the Atlantic to the Mediterannean and I thought I'd do a bit of that. I went alone, which isn't ideal for trekking in the mountains but it's a popular route and in mid-summer there were bound to be plenty of people doing the same thing.

Anyway, a few days into the trek, middle of the afternoon and I should be arriving at my designated camping spot, by a lake, within the hour. A lake which my guide tells me is visible from the ridge I'm walking along. A few minutes later, sure enough I see a lake and head down a track towards it only to find when I get there that it's little more than a big puddle and I'm not where I'm meant to be. Nevertheless, I manage to work out where I am on the map and decide to camp the night there anyway.

Come morning and I'm in the middle of the thickest fog I've ever seen, seriously, visibility down to just a few metres. Problem is I'm low on food and need to get to the nearest town by the evening. So despite the fog, with my compass skills honed to "adequate", I decide to head on. It quickly becomes clear that the trail I'd followed the night before was just one of many animal tracks and that in reality I'm way off the real trail, stumbling through bushes and over rocks in zero visibility and that if I fall and hurt myself no one is going to find me for a long time.

I am now seriously fucking scared. I don't know where I am. The fog is so thick I can't possibly take a compass bearing and I'm cold and wet from staggering through wet bushes for 2 hours. I'm going to die here, this is it. I am such a fucking idiot.

Then I smell smoke and find a hut with a group of french hikers who were able to show me where I was and how to get out of there. After that I still had to jog a 6 hour hike in 3 hours to get to the nearest town before dark but at least the fear of imminent, lonely death was gone.

As for length, the fog was so thick I couldn't tell you.
(The Sun King, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 18:52, Reply)

Bastard machine..
I used to ride a 750cc Honda. Last time I was properly scared I was at the end of my last "How fast can you ride home then eh you cunt?" challenge. The scary bit was when I suddenly realised I was *never* going to come out of this corner at the speed I'm going. Needless to say I hit the hedge but by then I'd already accepted I was fucked, even with my sturdy jeans and Converse sneakers to protect me. I really did think it was curtains this time and that was quite a frightening feeling! Then I woke up again and there was an old man peering down at me out of his car window and apart from feeling battered as a sumo wrestler's turd I was OK. The ultimate indignity was having to fish around in a dirty ditch for the contents of my panniers. Toothbrush still tastes funny...
(Whizzer, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 18:49, Reply)

A few weeks ago
This is really stupid but here's what happened. I don't have a CD player so use my computer to play CDs, I connect it to an amplifier. But then when I want to play games, I use headphones, so I have to get down behind the computer, unplug the amp, and plug in the headphones. So I was playing a game or something, then decided to put some music on. I turned on the amplifier, started the music playing, and it immediately came out of the speakers... but the thing is, I hadn't plugged the amp in yet... So I'm thinking, how the FUCK is music coming out of the fucking speakers? Either I've just completely blacked out while swapping the cables over, or something really really freaking spooky is happening, like I'm living in the matrix or something and reality actually is just a hoax after all this time, because there is no possible way the music could be coming out of the speakers without having changed the wires over... It was fucking freaky. I tried to keep calm but seriously I could not explain what was happening and I just sat there with this incredibly creepy bizarre feeling like something supernatural had happened. Then I finally figured it out - I wasn't playing a CD, I was playing a record, and the record player has its own connection to the amp. It might seem incredibly stupid but the thing is I hardly ever use the record player, and I'd forgotten that I'd set it up earlier that day to listen to a record. I didn't work it out for about ten or twenty seconds, during which time I was seriously freaked out. Anyway, half an hour later I went to the supermarket, and as I walked there my legs felt like solid fucking rubber, so did my head, and it felt like I had cotton wool in my ears and I felt vaguely like I was tripping or something. The rubbery legs stayed for the rest of the evening, which was quite worrying in itself. I suppose I must have had a massive adrenalin rush when the thing happened and these were the after-effects of it. Anyway, it's a really embarrassingly stupid story, makes me seem like a bit of a idiot, I suppose, but there you go. I'm not always an idiot, only every so often.
(cold, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 18:49, Reply)

Gigs & Hi-Jinks
Raging Speed Horn - Manchester 2004 - I got a rib and my ankle broken, and I saw 5 people being taken over the top of the crowd and put straight onto waiting stretchers behind the Pit Crew.

Also, Slipknot (who were amazing) did some pretty stupid things. I had two of the band members jump right on top of me at different parts of the gig - luckily me being a big guy, I took their weight and did my best at throwing them away from me and towards the stage. It worked quite well, as one of them (I think it was the 2nd drummer) landed on the Pit Crew a good 4-5 foot away. I was quite proud until people saw what I had done. I was asked all bloody night for lifts up to crowd-surf. Was still incredible though.
(tangentboy strikes again, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 18:09, Reply)

Zombies
Told this one before. Not me being terrified, but an unsuspectingo punter.

When I was a young pup I used to go to the cinema every Thursday with my then girlfriend Anne. And we always used to watch horror movies. I used to love the old gore-fests although nothing I ever watched ever scared me -except for Poltergeist for some silly reason. Odd that. Anyway. This one week we were watching a double feature and the first feature had just finished and the lights came up dimly. Now in those days we had usherettes - women who used to show you to your seats and who would serve ice-cream, popcorn etc during the intermission - and one of these duly appeared and started serving sweeties to the masses. After a few minutes I saw this strapping Geordie bloke walking up the aisle carrying two Cornettos (ice-cream cones). As he got halfway up the aisle some curtains that hid a fire door swished aside and this shambling horror burst into the picture hall. It was a fucking zombie! All green and grey with tattered clothes and patches of blood all over him.

So this freak lurched right into the path of the strapping Geordie bloke and stumbled towards him, moaning. Geordie bloke, an ice-cream in each hand, took one look at him and screamed like a girl. His face was a picture of pure shock and terror so he did the only thing a self-respecting Geordie could do when faced with a Zombie and carrying ice-cream. He kicked the horror right in the nuts with all of his strength and watched it drop like a bag of shit clutching its wounded nads. For some reason the moans sounded a lot more human now.

Now what had actually happened was that the cinema was doing a promotion for the next weeks horror flick - a Zombie movie - and they'd dressed some poor member of staff up as a Zombie in order to drum up a bit of interest. Well it worked for me. Once I realised that it was an actor and not a real Zombie, about a split second before Geordie lad rearranged his nuts, I was very interested. After I stopped laughing myself sick.....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:55, Reply)

I met a guy
on the internet (I'm shy. So sue me). We'd been going out for a few weeks, and he offered the use of his car so I could get some shopping done. It's rather dark but I'm out of everything (students eh?) so I agree.

He's bumbling along the A4. I'm not sure if he's going the right way. I ask him.

Singsongy voice "He he, wrong way" looks at the road at continues driving.

I ask him again

"he he, wrong way" and continues on the road, going ahead on every roundabout...

And again

"he he, wrong way"

I start panicing. "This can't be the right way, can it?"

"he he, wrong way"

I'm now really really scared, and cursing my trusting nature, and almost shouting at him. Every question is responded in the singsongy

"he he, wrong way"

I'm shouting now, and very very very fucking SCARED.

"he he, wrong way" and it's getting darker and darker...
I look around for possible escape options. I'm too obvious - he locks the automatic doors and windows. "he he, wrong way" he says.

It starts raining, and the dark means I can't see where we are. I start waving frantically to other cars, but they ignore me, thinking I'm drunk or something. Mental images pile up of me in a ditch, or in a freezer in bits, or left on the roadside with a stab wound...

About 15mins later, we arrive at Sainsburys. Boyfriend cracks up laughing. I thump him, and sulk for a week.

Two years now: and I've got him back so many times, hehe. He *still* winds me up about this, as well
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:47, Reply)

The funniest and scariest moments of my life happened together...
A few weeks back it was a friend of mines birthdays and to celebrate we decided to go out around Sheffield. At the time, said friend had a severe cold that he was insisting was flu, and as a result wasn't having too much fun. Noticing this, we decided that to cheer him up we should go to a strip club, and that since it was his birthday we'd buy him a dance.

Twenty minutes later, we are all in a particularly famous strippers drinking away and having a good time. Now, at this particular club are two twins who do the exact same routine at the exact same time. Why not thinks I, and so me and birthday boy are led off by the wallet by the twins for a private dance.

Sat on my hands I gazed upon their half naked bodies gyrating in the dim light of the small room, their firm and perfect breasts pulsating as they danced and touched each other in a way that would make their mother blush. They split, they came toward us still moving identically. Then, with their shaven mimsies not a meter from our faces they stripped completely. I remember thinking "This is worth any money" before hearing a sickeningly familiar noise from the side of me. ACHOO! Followed by one of the twins jumping back in horror shouting "You dirty fucking bastard!" and running out of the room.

I turned to my mate in utter confusion to be faced with him looking at me dead pan and saying "I greenied up her bucket". This was the single funniest moment of my life, that is until three of the biggest, meanest looking bouncers I've ever seen in my life entered. These guys looked like genetic experiments gone wrong, and probably had more DNA in common with pit bulls than other humans. For some reason, they didn't seem to find it nearly as funny as I did, and my uncontrollable laughter only served to anger them more. That was scary
( Furness, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:46, Reply)

Watching the Ring
The japanese version - (the remake is bollox.)


When that cunt came out of the T.V. made me jump.
Playing System Shock made me jump too.
(waxdart hello., Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:36, Reply)

when I "forgot"
to reregister a domain name, which caused the MX record to fail meaning that a subsidiary company was with external mail for 48 hours... considering I had a 14k redundancy package due in 5 weeks I was a little scared as they could have sacked me... as it is a week before I was made redundant I secured a job earning 14k pa more and got my 14k redundancy money. f*** you a certain Housing Association in the south east..
(BadgerPirate, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:33, Reply)

Bloody cyclists
So alright, I confess to being a leper of society. I own a fully paid up and road worthy car but I don't actually have my license yet despite being nearer 30 than 20. I'm a procrastinating muppet.

So I cycle.

I can drive perfectly well I've just never got round to taking the test. I'm also very opinionated when it comes to driving. I think it is probably the *one* thing that most people do during the day that could kill / maim / completely destroy someone's life. I therefore believe that people should, you know, stick to speed limits, give way when appropriate etc.

One day I'm cycling along and a car avoids the traffic calming measures on their side of the road by driving within a metre of me. Worse still he's being completely tailgated by some twunt in a crappy old Vauxhall who does the same only they miss me by less than a foot and I'm completely freaked at how close I was to being killed.

A flick of the finger as I cycle onward seemed appropriate.

The very loud engine revs turn to a screeching brake within a few seconds and I look over my shoulder to confirm the worst. Yep, that car will be right on my tail within 10 seconds and there's no way I can outrun them or escape.

Thankfully they catch up to me right at another set of traffic calming measures that segregate cyclicsts from the road so they couldn't run me over or anything without taking out a wooden post. But looking into the car I see not one but two baseball capped, sovereign ringed neds. Oh shit.

"What's your problem!?"

"Erm, sorry but you nearly knocked me off the road."

I'm partly ashamed at my answer. They nearly kill me and I apologise. Thankfully it seemed to work though and my rugged, manly good looks remain intact (well, my nose isn't now modelled on Steve Bruce's at least). They drove off over-revving again and when they hit a speed bump a bit of the car fell off and lay in the road.

They needed to pull into a junction just ahead to turn and continue their journey (I'm guessing they were late and didn't have time to beat seven shades out of me). But still, I get to the junction they're turning out of and I can see the bit of car that was once part of their bumper and I technically have right of way.

I diplomatically wait by the side of the road for them to pass while they shout the final, "Do that again and I'll kill ya!"

Two lessons to learn from this: 1. if you're a cyclist, show restraint. You are sooo much more vunerable than even the most poverty specced cars and 2. if you're going to stupidly engage in a bit of roadrage - and almost all roadrage is stupid no matter how deserved - at least make sure you clock the drivers first and gauge whether or not any kind of protest from you will land you in A&E.
( djtrialprice, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:25, Reply)

Graveyards? Sea? yup.
Walking somewhat drunkenly home from the train station one late night I found myself getting a little jumpy (huge amounts of beer or what I dunno).

Anyways, as I approached my village (around midnight, nice) the fog started to roll in as it does now and then... not a problem.

Now at the end of my road there is St. Marys church with the pre-requisite boneyard, and as I approached my garden gate the shit hit the fan.

Out of the mist towards me comes this shuffling groaning bloke in pyjamas, head at an angle against his shoulder, crippled arm up. Groaning. Like Day of the Dead.

In a panic I flung open the gate, ran up to the door (all lights off as my family were away) and fumble with the lock to get my key in. Only for zombie-thing to appear in the corner of my eye shuffling up my neighbours drive-way a foot parallel to me. Stupidly I turned to look...

Only for him to snap round 90 degrees to groan at me again, head still cocked to one side/arm up at angle etc... then I got my door open.

Spent the next 5 minutes running around the house and checking everything is locked and every light is on... home alone for the night with zombie-thing somewhere outside.

With the hindsight of the next days sobriety I remembered... Coldeast mental hospital was about half an hours walk/shuffle away.

Length? About 1 entrail. But I shit you not.
(Lemster the sound of one luma clamping, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:22, Reply)

it was a gloomy dark cold winters day
i woke up at 7am had a wash, breakfast, the usual then i heard someone shouting my name i looked around the house everyone was still in bed so i thought i must be hearing things then a minute later heard it again then i heard movement and i turned round to see it was the dog looking as dopey as usual then i heard somebody screaming my name at this point i was shitting myself thinking all sorts of horrible things then i heard PICK UP YOUR PHONE YOU SPAZ i had forgot to lock my phone and it had speed dialed my mate. im also scared by the fact my grammar is non exsitant just hope you grammar Nazis don't gas me
(branflakes, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 17:20, Reply)