When were you last really scared?We'd been watching the Shining. We were staying in an old church building. In hindsight, taking the shortcut home after midnight, in the mist, through the old graveyard was a bad idea.
I'm not sure what started it, but suddenly all the hairs on my neck had gone up and I was crapping myself. It was almost as bad as when, after a few cups of coffee too many and buzzing on caffeine, I got freaked out by my own reflection in the toilets.
When were you last really scared?
(
chthonic, Thu 22 Feb 2007, 15:43)
« Go Back
Claus the Mouse!The Year: 2005
The Place: Leytonstone, London
The Setting: A shared house, the middle of Diwali, a late night, and a bed.
I'd had a few friends round, as I'd just moved in to my shared house in cosmopolitan Leytonstone. We'd had a few beers, and as it was a predominantly Hindu (I think?) neighbourhood, we were watching the Diwali fireworks go off.
Eventually, the freeloaders that I call my friends decided that there was very little point hanging around much longer, as we'd drunk all the booze and everyone was getting a little sleepy.
So off they trundle, and I esconce myself in my bed. As tired as I was, I could not sleep for the constant 'WHIZZ' and 'BANG' of fireworks going off. To top that off, my room backed on to next door's lounge, and they were having a party. To cut it short, I was getting progressively more tired and progressively more cranky.
And then, just as I was drifting off...
rustlerustlerustleSCRATCHSCRATCHrustleSCRATCH
All of a sudden, I'm awake. A-FUCKING-WAKE. Leaping out of bed, I investigate the noise that was eminating from the coridoor. Nothing. BAck to bed, you're being an idiot.
rustleSCRATCHSCRATCHSCRACHrustle
This same pattern goes on for, oh, an hour. I go in to the corridor - nothing. Under the bed, nothing. I end up pleading with this unseen entity:
"Please! I don't know what you want! But please, leave me alone!" (I actually screamed this last part.)
Eventually, I fell asleep on the sofa in the lounge. The next morning, I spoke to a housemate, who had informed me we had a mouse in the house.
In the cold light of day, I worked out the bugger had crawled under my door, and was stuffing its face on an open pack of Dorito's I had left on the floor.
And even though I knew, for the rest of my tenure in the house, that the scratching under my bed was the mouse (he came every night and pulled bits of carpet up for his nest or something) - I was still terrified of the beast under the bed.
There is nothing to fear except fear itself. Rubbish. I fear Mice, and that fucking Derek Acorah.
(
Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 23 Feb 2007, 16:04,
Reply)
« Go Back