When your imagination gets the better of you

It’s funny how sometimes, when you are left to your own imagination, things can go awry. I am far better at keeping my head in potentially scary situations, than I was when I was younger. One particular instance was when I went to stay with a friend, Lucy, in Cardiff, when we were students. It was the summer holidays and we were staying in some student accommodation. The accommodation was a large terraced house. There was only one other person staying there, and that was a flat mate of my friend, called Dave. Lucy and I had been out for the day, when she had suffered an awful asthma attack and had been taken into hospital. I returned to the house, in the evening, to find I had the place to myself, as Dave had left a note saying he had gone to see some friends. It was the start of a very bad evening. I had brought a copy of ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ with me, and proceeded to read it, curled up in my room, which was the front room on the ground floor. As I was reading, I could hear footsteps on the floorboards in the room directly above me. As in all horror films, rather than leg it out of the house, I decided to investigate. Armed with an umbrella, I crept up the stairs and towards the front room. I threw open the door, switched the light switch, but no light came on. Ahhhhh. There was enough light from the street lamp outside to inform me that there was no one in the room. I decided that it must be the sounds from the people next door and somehow it was echoing round our house.
I decided to have a shower and got my stuff together and went into the bathroom. I climbed into the shower and was about to turn on the water, when a large, spider, with mean looking legs, descended from the shower head. I was out of the shower in seconds and resolved that I didn’t really need a wash. I decided, that as I had been reading about Psychopathic cannibals, it might be a good idea to check that the house was locked up for the night. I went round the top floor first, checking each room and then checked the windows and doors on the ground floor. I had been into every room in the house and had satisfied myself that there were no axe murderers. The only place I hadn’t checked was, what I thought was, the cupboard under the stairs. Except that it wasn’t a cupboard under the stairs. It was a cellar! Not just any cellar. A cellar, with creepy cobwebs, and an scary glow coming up from the bottom of the dark, rickety steps. I was NOT going down there.
‘Shit, I really wish I hadn’t seen that!’ I banged the door shut, ran to my room and barricaded the door and hid under the duvet. When I eventually emerged, I was so tired, but I didn’t dare unbarricade the door, or turn off the light to go to sleep. I sat on the bed dozing. Just as I was dropping off to sleep, there was a loud banging noise. Someone was at the front door. It was 1a.m. Was it the axe murderer? I froze, as another menacing bang resounded round my room. I quickly removed the barricade and tried to make out the silhouette through the glass.
‘Karen? Is that you? Come on open up, I forgot my key.’ Thank God it was Dave!. I rushed over to the door and threw it open.
‘Thank God you’re here. There’s a cellar!’ He looked at me as though I was raving mad, grunted and went off to bed.

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~ by envisioningutopia on January 31, 2012.

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