Trick or Treat?Distressed Housewife / October 31, 2012
The six ofÂ themÂ huddled togetherÂ for comfort inÂ theÂ too-small space that night.Â Choking darkness had descended and a weak full moon struggled to offer even theÂ most paltryÂ illumination through the thick, ominous clouds.Â
The only sounds that could be heard in the claustrophobic, coffin-like surroundingsÂ were odd, sporadicÂ rustlings and a strange, rhythmic banging.
There was silence for a while…but thenÂ the screaming began.Â Blood curdling,Â heart stoppingÂ screams that got louder and louder and chilled the group to their very bones.
The only option was to try and move.Â Taking a collective deep breath, theyÂ cautiously edged forward.Â ProgressÂ was painfully slow.Â They tried againÂ but this time they found their path blocked and could get no further.Â AÂ long, low hiss escaped the lips of one of the party.
Their hearts were beating fast, ba-bom, ba-bom, ba-bom.Â They licked parched lips and wiped perspiration from their brows with the effort as everybody thought the questionÂ that no-one dared to askÂ – would they ever get out of this place?
As they peered through the gloom, they became aware of lights in the distance and, just for a moment, they allowed themselvesÂ aÂ glimmer of hope.
They desperately strainedÂ to keep the lights in sight but as the wind howled and the rain lashed down incessantly, the view was once againÂ obscured by something large and looming that had appeared in front of them out of nowhere and obstructed their path once more.
With no other choice than to stay where they were, theyÂ peered around fearfully and with a start became aware thatÂ they were being slowly surrounded on all sides as more of the dark shapes closed in on them.
Then the droning began.Â Â Again and againÂ the noise came, assaulting theirÂ ears, shattering theirÂ senses andÂ setting their teeth on edge.
At that very moment the realisation came.Â They would die in this place.
Yep, that’s right, folks, on Monday eveningÂ myself, my husband, our three kids and my dad visitedÂ BLACKPOOL ILLUMINATIONS!Â And it was indeed like something out of a horror movie.
The ‘too-small space’ would be our car and the rustlingsÂ would be the crispÂ packets and foil of the kids’ ‘picnic’ tea.Â The rhythmic banging was our three year old kicking the back of myÂ seat until I shouted at him to stop.
The screams belonged to our younger two as they wound each other up to relieve the boredom of crawling through the never ending traffic.
The ‘low hiss’ came from my husband (accompanied by several muttered swear words) when a car cut in front of us.Â The lights in the distance would be the illuminations – and in the distance they stayed.
The ‘dark shapes’ were the other cars and the vendors selling naff toys at a fiver a pop.Â Then the kids played a fun game of, ‘I know a song that will get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves…’ by making the most irritating noises imaginable.
After two hours of queueing and a distance covered ofÂ about a hundred metres, with the kids wailing that they wanted to go home, we admitted defeat, turned around and drove back.
When we were nearly home our youngest spotted the bright lights of Aldi and ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ appreciatively.