The Paranormal

IdleRich

IdleRich
He lives in Carlisle but dunno whether it happened round there. He has another story about picking up a hitchhiker and finding a bunch of bloodied tools in his bag whilst the guy went into a service station. He chucked the bag and floored it.
This is an urban myth like the guy bouncing a head on the roof isn't it?
 

WashYourHands

Well-known member
Living in certain houses comes to mind. Summer 1990 in Sherwood, sharing with 3 others who were all out @ Venus on this occasion. Post World Cup England, hysteria around penalties, great drugs and Forest were still a name.

Up late just fucking round on turntables, pack of Stella in the fridge and needed a fresh blast of tastelessness. The ground floor of this house had a porch thing that led into a hallway corridor, that led into a v small dining room on into a kitchen. Two living rooms to the side, stairway opposite, with a knocked through partial partition between the two living rooms to create space. Decks were in there, tv etc.

To get to the fridge i had to open the lounge door, turn left 45degrees, walk about twelve feet through the eating area to the kitchen and get the booze to satiate a growing thirst. It all happened so instantly and surreally. The only way i can articulate it is that as soon as i opened the door into the hallway i walked into a wall of silent, screaming, galactic-sized fear. No lights on, couldn't see anything. Took a step back and shut the door immediately. Standing there, it was if an indescribable presence was trying to force itself in through the walls and door. PWEI's 7" Touched by the Hand of Cicciolina was playing, so while this football-sampled piano crescendo grew, so did this presence (and fuck you, that wasn't my record).

I backed up against the wall, turned the volume down on the amp and tried to focus, but it got worse. Immeasurable fear. Not dissociative, i was absolutely in the moment, full bearings but clearly wondering wtf was happening. This presence seemed as tall and wide as the observable universe itself - vertically and horizontally infinite. A looming, menacing, malevolent perturbation in the reality field, like it was willing everything into whatever it was. Think i lit a fag, tried stepping forward and it was if an inhuman force of monstrous magnitude screamed "NO". I froze. Racing thoughts, "grow up you sad cunt" and "how do i get out of this fucking house?" amid distilled terror. Sipped the remaining lager due to cotton wool mouth and waited. Slowly, over about ten to fifteen minutes, it subsided.

Now, there was a lot of drug consumption during this period, at life threatening levels some times all in the name of fun, and i'm fully aware this was probably a neural prolapse of some sort, but that feeling opening the door, the switch from mundane, ordinary Friday night life to bornless, cold crystalised intention happened in a micro-second. I knew the hallway was already dark because i was the only one home, so it wasn't the lack of light that startled me. I've never really spoken about it - why would you? Within a few weeks i moved out. That night stained the light out of that abode for me beyond limits. 27 Leonard Avenue, Notts. It's the house to the left on the street view with the oval topped front door. Never been back.

 

HMGovt

Bamber Clatscoigne
Living in certain houses comes to mind. Summer 1990 in Sherwood, sharing with 3 others who were all out @ Venus on this occasion. Post World Cup England, hysteria around penalties, great drugs and Forest were still a name.

Up late just fucking round on turntables, pack of Stella in the fridge and needed a fresh blast of tastelessness. The ground floor of this house had a porch thing that led into a hallway corridor, that led into a v small dining room on into a kitchen. Two living rooms to the side, stairway opposite, with a knocked through partial partition between the two living rooms to create space. Decks were in there, tv etc.

To get to the fridge i had to open the lounge door, turn left 45degrees, walk about twelve feet through the eating area to the kitchen and get the booze to satiate a growing thirst. It all happened so instantly and surreally. The only way i can articulate it is that as soon as i opened the door into the hallway i walked into a wall of silent, screaming, galactic-sized fear. No lights on, couldn't see anything. Took a step back and shut the door immediately. Standing there, it was if an indescribable presence was trying to force itself in through the walls and door. PWEI's 7" Touched by the Hand of Cicciolina was playing, so while this football-sampled piano crescendo grew, so did this presence (and fuck you, that wasn't my record).

I backed up against the wall, turned the volume down on the amp and tried to focus, but it got worse. Immeasurable fear. Not dissociative, i was absolutely in the moment, full bearings but clearly wondering wtf was happening. This presence seemed as tall and wide as the observable universe itself - vertically and horizontally infinite. A looming, menacing, malevolent perturbation in the reality field, like it was willing everything into whatever it was. Think i lit a fag, tried stepping forward and it was if an inhuman force of monstrous magnitude screamed "NO". I froze. Racing thoughts, "grow up you sad cunt" and "how do i get out of this fucking house?" amid distilled terror. Sipped the remaining lager due to cotton wool mouth and waited. Slowly, over about ten to fifteen minutes, it subsided.

Now, there was a lot of drug consumption during this period, at life threatening levels some times all in the name of fun, and i'm fully aware this was probably a neural prolapse of some sort, but that feeling opening the door, the switch from mundane, ordinary Friday night life to bornless, cold crystalised intention happened in a micro-second. I knew the hallway was already dark because i was the only one home, so it wasn't the lack of light that startled me. I've never really spoken about it - why would you? Within a few weeks i moved out. That night stained the light out of that abode for me beyond limits. 27 Leonard Avenue, Notts. It's the house to the left on the street view with the oval topped front door. Never been back.

Heavy. I know that cicciolina tune, it sounds like a reasonable response to that cursed music.

Seriously though, reading that was intense after my first smoke for months.

Looking at the streetview, the house is giving nothing away, no asphyxes or emanations, but what the fuck is going on with the two shut in houses to the right with no front doors? Alley access is also cursed.
 
Top