Thoughts and scribblings of an overactive mind.

Fear Farm

I went out for a walk with my friends Kimmy and Steph this afternoon, it was all very lovely and wholesome for a Sunday afternoon until we inadvertantly went the wrong way and ended up wandering up a road in the middle of nowhere which looked like it lead towards some kind of abandoned farm. You know the sort of thing, the kind of buildings that kids find at the beginning of a horror film – “what’s that steph? the car has broken down? Oh no! Wait, hold on, there is a house over there with a light on! Let us go and see if they can help us!” That sort of thing.

So anyway, we walk down this road, windy and desolate. There’s a bike wheel in the hedge, and car seats on the grass verge. We’ve come to the conclusion that there’s a family of cannibals who live in this farm, and these relics are all that remains of their victims vehicles. The main house seems quiet, so we sneak past the garden. There’s an oddly large number of statues and things in the front garden, including a scarecrow that resembles a stuffed child.

 “That’s the last child who came here.” says Steph grimly. We carry on. Further up the track is another little collection of buildings including a corrugated iron shed and several abandoned looking caravans. The wind is making a spooky howling noise as it whistles across the fields. We’re laughing about being made into pies and other jolly things, but fear levels are rising.

 “Still, it’s nice to be out in the countryside.” I remark, attempting to be cheerful.

“My fear levels are now at 50%.” Steph says, her voice laden with doom. There are lots of abandoned cars and broken down rusted vans and things, all with smashed windows and raggedy bits of material flying about. Outside the corrugated iron shed there’s a big bin that says “Clinical waste disposal.” Why would anyone need that? Immediately the human centipede comes into my mind. Then Steph spots a sign in the hedge – Trespassers will be prosecuted. “Fear levels now at 75%!” Steph warns. I wonder what will happen to her if they reach 100%. Will she explode? Suddenly, a dog barks. A loud, scary bark. Kimmy grabs my arm.

“Matty I’m scared can we turn round?”

“Yes we can!”

“Run!” And with that we’re off, legging it as fast as three really unfit people can leg it. We keep looking back to check that nobodys following us, but it’s okay, we’re safe.

Probably we were all just being really silly, but it was scary, and why would someone have all that scary stuff in their garden? It was a wrong turn as well, maybe a wrong turn others took and didn’t come back………………….

I exagerrate of course, but a little bit of fear (mild peril,) even if it is largely imagined is quite fun, and certainly feels quite good for the blood. It’s a bit of adventure and a bit of a thrill. I won’t be going for a jog down that road anytime soon, but i’m certainly glad i went the once. As Kimmy and Steph said, we bonded even further through our near death, and it certainly made a sunday afternoon a lot more exciting!


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