Real life scary stuff
I am part of a real life scary story at the moment.
On Wenesday evening after coming home from the Burg I went to a pub quiz in Ipswich with various people who rely too much on this site for entertainment. You know who you are. I left Ipswich at about 23.30 and began driving home along the back roads of Suffolk. The only route I know around that area is the one that gets me home. I was happily driving along under the night sky, listening and singing along to my music when I see a blue sign on the road side saying “Police Accident”. I turned the corner and in front of me were sirens and cones and another sign with an arrow pointing down a road on the left. I took the road that they were diverting me onto, expecting to have to follow more arrows to get me back on track. The arrows never came.
I was driving for ten minutes. I was getting mildly aprehensive and fearing for my safety. The windows were wound up and the car doors locked and this was certainly not the time for music. Finally I came across a village. “Huzzah” I thought to myself rather foolishly, “I will surely find road signs directing me to the place I need to go.” No, no I didn’t see any road signs. I got to the bottom of the village and my headlights lit up a sign stating “No launching No boating from this point”. Ah, that would mean I was about to drive into a river then. I reversed up the hill and found a turning labelled “Holbrook”. Phew, surely this would be it, I knew my way back from there.
Alas no. The road didn’t have any road markings, I can deal with this, it’s a country lane and I wouldn’t expect it to be perfectly kept. Gradually however, the road got narrower and the grass at the side rather much higher. Gravel appeared in the centre of the road, the kind of gravel that lets you know this road isn’t often travelled upon. The bends and twists in the road got increasingly more acute. I became increasingly more aware that I was horrendously lost. And scared, very scared.
I was peering over the steering wheel and constantly trying to quash thoughts of “Haven’t I seen this scenario in a scary film five thousand times? Don’t they all die?”. At precisely the point where I was recalling a particularly gruesome death there was a rustling at the side of the road ahead. My heart stopped. I hadn’t passed a car in a very long time, nor a house, nor any signs of life.
Have you ever seen a badger in real life? They are bigger than you think. When one runs out in front of you on a deserted road in the middle of the night they are terrifying, they are actually terrifying. I didn’t hit the badger and he in turn decided to spare my life. I drove fast after that point and eventually found the village I was aiming for and made my way home.
Phew, end of film. The girl survives. Oh wait, or is it really the end?
Last night I was looking for something under the parents’ bed. I was shifting boxes around and in one I found an old hair brush with hair bristles and a matching mirror. You know the old antiquey things. I thought they were pretty then moved the box back and continued looking. I crawled round to the other side of the bed when I suddenly hear a chime. Followed by another. Before I know it, there is an out of tune nursery rhyme being played slowly by a music box somewhere. I rummaged through the box where the tune was coming from, pulling out old cards and letters and gradually finding the music box, undisturbed at the bottom of the box. I hadn’t touched it, no one had in a long time. Why on earth would it start playing on it’s own?
Conclusion: Ghost.
I hope the film has ended now.
