Tale for Hallowe’en

by davebarclay1954

In the last few years I find myself remembering how adventurous my friends and I used to be. One year we decided to take a few bottles of home made alcohol, a few pills and some herb and visit a ruined castle nearby. One of my friends had recently returned from London where he had visited his sister and gone to a club to hear Pink Floyd. Anyway, as is the case with castles, we found the graveyard was the best place to sit and listen to the live recording of Pink Floyd, telling ghost stories and imbibing alcohol and narcotics.

The tales were becoming more and more bizarre as the night drew on and the cassette had been turned off from time to time in order to preserve battery life. Anyway, we started a story making game while the music had settled into rhythmic background noise. The story, if anyone is not familiar with the game reading this, is started by one person and taken up by another. As long as the story progresses anything goes. Anyway, this one started off with a few friends in a grave yard. Unsurprising.

No one noticed that Set the Controls had given way to Careful with that Axe, but the story was still miles away from scary at this point. However as one of my friends took up the tale and mentioned a mad axeman creeping towards the graveyard we heard a whisper say “Careful with that axe, Eugene!” followed by a blood curdling scream. Most of the group at this point had gone white in the moonlight. I noticed the music had changed and was now a cacophony so I let out a blood gargling scream and collapsed in a fit of giggles which must have sounded like the death throws of Caesar. Most of the group by now were on their feet looking for this madman who had arrived to terrorise our innocent gathering. Two of us killing ourselves laughing, rolling around on the ground. Needless to say we packed up then and headed back home, all of us laughing and swearing to do it again “Next year”. It then became an annual ritual not always with narcotics but every time we had alcohol.

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