Further to my post about my own injuries...
...I feel a bit guilty posting that story before this one.
In 1998 my wife gave birth to our daughter. The delivery went very badly, with my daughter put into ICU and my wife haemorrhaging really badly and rushed into theatre.
I was advised that my daughter was not expected to survive and that my wife "might" be okay.
My daughter did survive and my wife recovered well. The mixed emotions of seeing your first (and only) child born and then being resuscitated and not expected to live, whilst your wife has lost so much blood that she was as pale as an albino snowman was bloody terrifying.

I count myself as a very lucky man indeed.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sun 8 Apr 2012, 11:50, 3 replies)

just the other day i had a run in with the police. oh trenton
i was walking along with my partner just kicking the ball around and playing silly buggers like you do.

When i kicked the ball a little bit to hard and it whent in to the water, and like the arsehole that he is my partner just jumped in to get it. with out a second thought of the danger of cold water or flowing tides etc.
anyway as he came up from the cold depths of the water he had the shock of his life again as some numpty in a row boat tried to run him down, and now the police are involved and all that shit but what worries me the most is what the daily mail will say. i am literally terrified of being vilified by them.
oh trenton ! what have you done this time?
( fluffybunnykiller Is feasting on the clitoris of life, Sun 8 Apr 2012, 10:31, 2 replies)

Don't look down
Having conquered my irrational mild fear of heights by successfully completing fire brigade training school I thought I was invulnerable.
Until the first time I found myself sixty feet up on a wet pitched tile roof. That was when I found I wasn't afraid of heights - I WAS TERRIFIED OF HEIGHTS. The prospect of sliding down that slope and WHOOOSHing out into space nearly made me throw up. After that I always made sure I had something important to do ON THE FRIKKING GROUND like operating the pumps. Sod trying to be a hero.
(Variable, Sun 8 Apr 2012, 8:16, 1 reply)

i was only about 9
I used to live in America, and one year my older brother had a football tournament in Sacramento to play in. It was kind of a big deal, as all these families took their kids to the state capital to stay in hotels and watch an under 14 football thing.

Anyway, first night we're there, the adults are making use of the "happy hour" in the hotel bar, the kids have all amassed in someone's room to watch a movie.

Being with a bunch of 13 year olds, they decided on a scary movie. One of the scariest of them all...

Predator 2.

I watched with them, cowering behind aa cushion. I woke up screaming that night. My mum asked me what was wrong. I told her about the film, which she was ok with (bad parenting right thwre). She asked what was scaring me...

The swearing.

I was not scared of this weird alien, hunting humams for sport, I was scared because they said shit and Fuck.

I was an odd kid. Guess that's why I'm here with you lot.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Sun 8 Apr 2012, 8:01, 3 replies)

Getting my wisdom teeth removed
It's worse than it sounds.

I was born three months premature, and that's a fascinating story in and of itself, but I'm only mentioning it because I think it's somehow related to why all this happened.
See, I was about 17 when that fateful visit to the dentist told me that my wisdom teeth looked like they were impacting. I shrugged and said I'd wait and see what happens, thinking nothing of it.

Two years later I was sitting in that chair in the surgery going under global anaesthetic. I was reassured that I'd be asleep for the entire procedure and wouldn't feel a thing.

Sure enough, I went to sleep, and woke up in exactly the same room.
I remember being surrounded by scientist types, some looking exactly like the anaesthetist and aide that had accompanied me into the room, but I knew that it wasn't really them. I don't remember their technobabble, but I do remember a golden robotic arm coming out of the wall with some vial in it that I knew would be used to impregnate me with some horrible monster. I screamed and screamed begging them not to, and in the end the arm retreated back into the wall.
I tried to get up from the chair, but was immediately pushed down by a strong arm.
Time seemed to freeze then. I attempted to get up multiple times only to be pushed back down by some unseen force. I couldn't summon the strength to do so. I was trapped in this chair for eternity.
It seemed like hours. I wasn't sure what was happening was real- I knew somehow that it wasn't, but it was so lucid. I eventually resigned myself to my fate, assuming I would be stuck here forever.
I kept lifting my arms and legs, wiggling them around, clicking my heels together, just to check. It felt completely real.

Some time later, I came to feeling utterly horrible. My mouth was numb.
"You had an allergic reaction to the valium. You were shaking. We were so worried about you, we couldn't complete the procedure; we could only remove one of your teeth."
I remember looking at my hand. I still wasn't sure whether this was real or still part of the nightmare.
"Is this real? Am I awake?" I slobbered in typical anaesthetic talk.
"Yes, you're awake now."
"I had a nightmare."
"A nightmare? Well, people who are allergic to valium usually have hallucinations. You're okay now."
I sat up. No force pushed me back down. I looked around the room for a little bit at all the concerned faces and the machinery which I'd spent the last eternity being forced to stare at and examining the reflections.
"You're going to be a little groggy from the anaesthetic."
Fuck that. I was walking. I got out of the chair and immediately fell to the floor.
I couldn't walk.
My granny came in, and she was very worried. I had to lean on my brother and summon the strength to walk to the car.
I felt completely helpless. I couldn't walk, I couldn't talk properly, I couldn't even open my mouth very far. And on the whole ride home I still wasn't sure whether I was still dreaming.

I had to get my other teeth out individually every week or so under local anaesthetic. The next time I went into the surgery, I was afraid it would happen all over again. And while the other procedures were trivial, I still felt worthless being unable to eat properly. I was depressed for weeks. And the pain from having your wisdom teeth out is horrifying. I spent hours curled up in my bed begging for the pain to stop.

I'll never forget how I felt in that nightmare. I don't know whether it was a hallucination, or what, but it seemed completely real to me. I was terrified at first, but in the end I gave up and figured I would just be there forever. It was the worst thing I've ever been through.

Length: I think it took a few days for me to accept I was in the real world.
(Avnas dosh!, Sun 8 Apr 2012, 4:33, 1 reply)

As a kid I was Terrified I'd come home one day from school
and my mum would have set a man-trap up by the door. Apparently they do that, I'd seen it on the telly.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vt016gTNp_k
.
Everyone was on fucking drugs in the 1970's,
I am convinced of it
.
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 22:43, Reply)

Hands up if you're scared of guns.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 21:22, 11 replies)

An alternative to ghostiness
Ok so I'm not disagreeing with posts about ghosts (not sure what I believe but I'd quite like to have some sort of encounter so that I could make up my own mind, and I do like the idea of there being weird stuff we don't know about, y'know just to keep life interesting) but this article is very interesting!
www.cracked.com/article_18828_the-creepy-scientific-explanation-behind-ghost-sightings.html
(Bambola, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 15:33, 8 replies)

Get your kicks on the A36
We had to drive down to Cornwall from Bristol that evening, and just before we did, my mate found a couple of tabs of acid.

I've been in three minor major car crashes, and so am not the keenest of passengers.

He likes to drive fast, and started telling me how like Mariokarts it was. Really like it. The arrows on the road were a bit like power-ups. If only we could fire turtle shells! He weaved in and out and in and out of the other drivers, we were doing 90 down minor b-roads it's so like Mariokarts the streetlights trailing so like fucking MARIOKARTS in and out of the traffic and around this bend dodge the on-coming cars it's so like Mariokarts onto the dual carriage way in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out ...

I seem to remember we did in something ridiculous - 2 and a half hours? Would that be possible?

I was quite literally shaking with fear and gratitude by the time we got in.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 12:40, 13 replies)

Earthquake!
I live in earthquake country, and in the 13 years I've been here I've been through a couple of notable ones - the first was in the middle of the night in 1999 - they called it the TwentyNine Palms earthquake as that was the nearest part of civilization, although it was felt a couple hundred miles away in Orange County, CA. The news back home (for want of a geographic location) considered it as being just outside of Los Angeles. That was hubby1 and I up all night, then cos the phone didn't stop ringing.

There were a few others that happened while I was out with friends, scary? Hell yes, earthquakes are horrible. You never know if it's "the big one" or if it's just a "tremblor" at 5.2 magnitude.
But I'll never forget what they called the "Easter Sunday Quake". I was in my apartment, alone, sitting down with a cup of tea and a book, and I saw the vase of flowers on my coffee table kind of bouncing around. The cats suddenly did a "meowp" and disappeared.
My quakesense kicked in and I realized it was an earthquake.

That bastard lasted a good 45 seconds.....and if you've ever felt an earthquake, 45 seconds seems like an hour.....after mentally going through the motions, standing in the doorframe, I finally was yelling to please make it stop (and I wasn't the only one, I could hear the neighbours screaming), wondering if this was it, the big one that was going to tear California apart.

It was obviously nowhere near as bad as the Indonesian quake or last years Japanes quake, but it was the first earthquake I've ever been in while solely on my own and it scared the motherfucking shit out of me.
It was a 9.2 down in Mexico, and we felt it over 400 miles away at such a strength. It was like being on the ocean, just a very strong rolling sensation and there were reports afterwards of people feeling seasick from it.
Most damage done in my place was a couple of broken jars of Prego, and the vase of flowers overturned. For a couple of months afterwards we had 2-3 (not aftershocks) independent quakes, the biggest of which was a 4.7 and my mouth would go dry and I'd shake like a leaf.

We haven't had one in a while, and I'm dreading the next on, because it could be "the one".

But at least it's sunny and warm almost everyday with an average annual temperature in my city of around 71 deg Farenheight.
(nolongernuts, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 10:08, 5 replies)

The case of the disappearing parents
Back in the 1990s, just before mobile phones came in my parents came to stay a couple of weeks over Christmas in Canberra. My father had lost his top teeth playing field hockey and wears a denture as a result. He wanted a new plate fitted. I scouted out a dental technician, the only problem was that the technician was in the central business district and I was living and working in the Woden Valley about 9km away.

I didn't have much leave from work, so I had to go to work on the Friday after they arrived. The plan was they would both go in on the bus about 1pm, Dad would visit the technician and Mum would do some shopping in the Canberra Centre, a large shopping mall on three levels. They would meet at the bus stop, maybe go for a cuppa then phone me.

I photocopied the street map for where I live, marked the house and where I worked and on the other side the street map of the CBD with the bus station and the technician's street marked. I wrote in my phone number at work and at home and made two copies. Over breakfast I gave them the copies, showed them both sides and emphasised that I would stay at work and when they rang, I would drive into the CBD to pick them up.

I said "Don't ring me at home, ring me at work, because as sure as fate if I go home you will call while I'm between home and work and things will fall in a heap. I will stay at my desk until I hear from you. Don't ring me at home."

So I swanned off to work, thinking that's sorted and expected to hear from them about 3:30 - 4 that afternoon. I reckoned without my father's ability to ignore most of what I said.

Four pm, no call. That didn't worry me so much, perhaps the technician was busy.

Five pm. Still no call. By that time I was becoming mildly concerned. I asked one of the blokes who was working overtime to make sure he picked up my phone if it rang and went downstairs to ask the security guard if anyone was asking for me. No.

By six pm I was damn near frantic with worry. What the hell had happened? So I rang the Woden police station, gave them the story and asked what I should do. They said stay where I was and wait. Ten minutes later the phone rang. My mother had just walked into the Woden police station. She could not find my father and had taken a taxi back to Woden, but the bloody taxi driver could not find my house. So she asked to go to the police station.

I went and picked her up and we went home. The police put out a warning to their cars and to taxi and bus drivers to look for Dad.

I asked the neighbours if they had seen Dad. No. I'd just got back when a taxi pulled up with Dad in it. When he got in the driver had asked him if he was Redemption's father. "Everyone's looking for you". By that time it was nearly eight pm.

So what had happened? They'd agreed to meet at a particular seat at the bus station. But the technician was quick, and when Dad got to the seat, Mum was not there. So instead of sitting down and waiting, he went into a large shopping mall filled with pre-Christmas shoppers to look for her. Naturally he didn't find her after 45 minutes. So he had her paged.

But she was sitting on the seat at the bus stop by that time, waiting for him. So does he decide she's there by now? No, he decided she had gone to the Woden Plaza, another shopping mall 9 kilometres away and got on the bus to the Woden bus depot. Not the express bus, one that strolled in a leisurely manner through the suburbs. Then he searched the Woden Plaza. I don't really recall the rest of his wanderings, but he did phone me about 5:30pm. At home, when he had been specifically asked to phone me at work. So what did he decide then? I'd gone off to the pub and forgotten about them. At that moment I nearly lost it with him.

My mother had waited at the bus stop in the CBD for nearly two and a half bloody hours. Neither of them had even considered picking up the phone and dialling the number I gave them and if no answer, dialling the other. I don't think I have ever been so worried before or since. That was nearly 18 years ago and it still stresses me when it comes to mind.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 8:27, 2 replies)

I can hear you...
...I got bashed a few years ago and after the initial king-hit I got repeatedly stomped on, resulting in damage to my liver, kidneys and pancreas.
I remember 'waking up' in A&E although I couldn't open my eyes or let anyone know I could hear them.
I clearly heard the nurses panicking that my systolic blood pressure had dropped to 50 (should be around 125+) and that it was still falling.
I heard the doctor calling my wife and telling her that "it's not looking good". I remember the panic when they couldn't get an IV line in me and I heard them discussing various emergency drug and treatment options.
As a paramedic, I knew exactly what everything they said meant and was quite frankly very bloody scared.
"Is this how it ends?" I thought.
Obviously it didn't end that day, but to hear your own possible impending death discussed and to not be able to respond was terrifying in the extreme (understatement).

I now make a point of assuming that every unconscious patient can hear me, and talk to them as though they are conscious.

The offender was caught and after a sob story about his childhood got a suspended sentence and was ordered to pay me AU$500.
I'll let you know if I ever actually receive one cent of it.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 3:34, 8 replies)

A moment of stupidity
There are already more than a reasonable amount of car-based terror stories, so I apologise for adding to them, but this is probably the most concentrated sixty seconds of terror I've ever experienced.

It took place during a hungover trip back from an excellent weekend visiting friends in Bristol - it was the sort of hangover that you can grudgingly accept as reasonable payment for the fantastic night before. I felt awful, but also happy. It was Sunday morning, Lemon Jelly was playing on the car stereo, and there were, mercifully as it turned out, few other cars on the M4. My girlfriend was driving, and I was heroically trying to stay awake in the passenger seat so as to make the trip less of a chore for her. Halfway home we stopped into a service station to fill up on water. Not an urgent requirement, but it was a lazy day and it needed to be done.

This was when things went wrong, although we didn't realise it at the time. We pulled up next to the water and air machine and I jumped out. My girlfriend popped the bonnet and I staggered over to the machine. Only to find that it wanted money. And not just a token 20p, it wanted a whole quid for a bit of water. "Fuck that," we both agreed. I climbed back into the car, and we pulled out back onto the motorway.

Careful readers might have spotted our mistake here. We didn't. We sped off, eager to get back home to a cup of tea and a lazy afternoon in the sun, and I drifted back into a semi-conscious haze. It wasn't for another ten minutes that everything went wrong.

I was staring listlessly ahead, my mind empty of thoughts, when suddenly the world went insane. There was an ear-shattering crash, and everything went dark. There were a couple of seconds of blind panic, and I first thought we'd crashed, but somehow we were still moving forwards. Then I realised what had happened - the bonnet had lifted, slamming back against the windscreen at 70 miles per hour. The force of the blow punted the rear-view mirror into our laps, and the windscreen shattered. I shouted: as I remember, my carefully chosen words were "SHIT! JESUS FUCK!" My initial relief that we hadn't crashed was replaced by terror: We were still hurtling along at 70mph, but now we were blind. Luckily, the curvature of the top edge of the bonnet meant that there was a three-inch gap at the bottom of the windscreen, and by leaning across we could just about see ahead. I carried on swearing as hard as I could, but when I looked over to my girlfriend, now in charge of a near-blind ton of metal hurtling through space, she wasn't panicking at all. In fact there was no visible emotion at all on her face - just a pale, overwhelming concentration.

She eventually got us over to the hard shoulder and we got out, waiting, shaking, for the RAC to turn up and take us home. You never know how you're going to react in a sudden life-or-death situation, but that day I learned two things: 1) My girlfriend is pretty good at panic, and 2) I'd have fucking killed us both.

Oh, and 3) - For the love of Christ, if you pop the bonnet, fucking well make sure you push it closed again before heading out onto a motorway.
( Zoroastermouse thinks therefore he am, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 1:43, 4 replies)

Oi've gorra bran' new comboin 'arvester
mhoulden's post about public information films kickstarted my memory...

Growing up on a huge council estate that was still being built, the one about not playing on building sites had the opposite effect, it gave us some great ideas. But being a city kid, the one that showed the boy in the field as a combine harvester slowly and menacingly came towards him, then all the chaff being spat out, gave me nightmares.

I live in a very rural area now, I'm aged in my 40s, but I still nearly shit myself when I'm out on the bike and see a combine harvester, tractor or some other piece of agricultural plant coming down the road towards me, no doubt being driven one-handed by some inbred halfwit on his way to the hospital to get his other arm sewn back on.
(Capo, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 0:49, Reply)

marzipan
marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan marzipan
( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Sat 7 Apr 2012, 0:18, 14 replies)

Hands of the Ripper
it was at a New Years Eve party, I must have been about 7 or 8 years old. Because it was New Years Eve, all of the kids were allowed to stay up late and we were basically left semi-supervised and given the run of what was quite a large house. Some time during the evening, I started to develop a temperature, so me and a couple of the other kids went to watch TV in one of the side rooms. One of the kids, who was slightly older than the rest of us, told us that there was a Hammer House of Horror movie coming on later. Unlike (or so it appeared) most of my class mates, I had never seen a horror movie before - so I was keen to break this particular duck. The Horror flick in question was this little gem:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jMuLKvXzzk

Called the "The Hands of the Ripper", it was basically about a girl who was Jack the Rippers daughter. This young wench would go a tad wobbly whenever she saw anything sparkly or somebody gave her kiss on the cheek. Unfortunately said dizzy spell would result in some poor unfortunate getting a red hot poker through the eyeball or a paper knife in the jugular.

If I was to watch it now, I would probably laugh at all the ketchup and the ham acting, at the time however it left something of an impression - you'll not be surprised to learn, that I had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Funny, thing is though, I don't really get scared by horror movies anymore. Real life is far more terrifying!

So...Real life is more frightening than a horror movie. Discuss.
(Nitrous Nitrous, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 23:09, Reply)

I'm always terrified.
All the live-long day.

Sigh.
(The Curse of Millhaven. Pretty little mouth underneath all the foaming, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 22:05, 2 replies)

crash
when i was about 8, my grandad got himself a new(ish) car. he loved being able to take himself off to wherever he wanted again, having been without a car for a few years. he was always willing to give family members lifts to wherever they needed to go.
one day, my sisters, brother and i arrived home from school to some terrible news: grandad had suffered a blackout behind the wheel and crashed into the side of a bus. even worse, my mum and uncle were in the car with him.
the fear i felt then had a taste, metallic and bitter in my mouth. we waited for four hours for a call from the hospital. thankfully, when it came, it wsn't as bad as it could have been. grandad had broken 4 ribs, both legs, one arm, his pelvis and his collarbone, as well as fracturing his skull, but he was alive. my uncle also had several broken bones. incredibly, despite being in the front passenger seat, mum had got off lightly with cuts and a lot of bad bruising.
i've been freaked out plenty of times in my life, but waiting for that call was the only time i've ever been truly terrified.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 18:39, 2 replies)

Alien War
Back in the mid-1990's there was this interactive exhibition type thing in the Trocadero Centre in Picadilly Circus called ALIEN WAR. As a huge Alien fan, of course I could not resist it. I paid my fiver not knowing what really to expect - some blokes in xenomorph costumes behind glass, clips from the films, etc. NO WAY was I prepared for what was about to come!

I (and about ten other people) are led into a dark room that looks like the medroom set from Aliens and "briefed" by Colonel Hardass, who tells us we we're a group of scientists visiting xenomorphs in captivity that we must be extremely careful, as these things are dangerous, etc etc. Pretty much what I was expecting.

After about two minutes of this, a shrieking alarm blares out and all the lighting goes emergency red, and I shit my pants (not for the first time). Colonel Hardass cuts the alarm, presses the intercom and we hear a garbled message along the lines of "AAAAGHHH! THEY'RE KILLING US! GET US OUT OF HERE AAAAAAAAAAIEEEEE!" and I shit my pants again.

Col H calls for calm whilst telling us that the worst has happened - the aliens have all escaped, and are marauding their way through the space station killing all in sight!

By this point, my legs are actually shaking with fear. NOW I KNOW the xenomorphs aren't real, and I knew so back then; but such is the power of the Alien films (well the first two), and so convincing was the set-up and the acting skills of Col H (really, he could have fitted in right beside Apone, Vasquez et al) that the knowledge that it was all make-believe was USELESS. USELESS. USELESS. However much the rational side of my mind tried to convince me this was all fake, it was shouted down by the (larger) irrational side of my mind which screamed GAME OVER, MAN! GAME OOOO-VER! on a continual loop. From that point on, I and my fellow scientists were, effectively, inside an Aliens film. And we all know what happens in those. Bloody, violent DEATH!

Col Hardass informs us that we have to make our way through the station to the shuttle-bay, there to make our escape. With no time to think we are hustled along a Nostromo-like corridor shrouded in dry ice, with Colonel Hardass urging continual vigilance. Minutes pass, there are nervous giggles and my legs are STILL shaking. NOTREALNOTREAL/GAMEOVERGAMEOVERGAMEOVER. Suddenly a door BUSTS open and Lieutenant Injured falls through, screaming in pain and holding an arm which is covered in blood. So convincing was his acting and the make up that I actually felt cold fear rise up from the soles of my feat to my balls. Lt Injured briefs us on the situation - we're all fucked - before being spirited away somewhere (such was the terror and confusion I can't remember what happened to him).

We are then hustled along another corridor at the end of which suddenly appears - an alien!

I've no idea to this day how they did it (film projection, smoke and mirrors, man in a suit?) To all intents and purposes, we are faced with an actual alien, out of Alien (well, Aliens, it was one of the ones with a ridged carapace). Everyody, EVERYBODY, SCREAMS and immediately runs back the other way! Col H is nowhere to be seen. I still remember the blind panic of those moments, I was shoving people aside to get them behind me so that the alien would get them and not me. It sounds pathetic, but it was so realistic that it felt like the real thing and by now all of us were on such an adrenaline high that we were utterly convinced it was real.

Suddenly Col H re-appear and bundles us into a lift - which I swear to this day I could feel plummeting down at speed. At the bottom the doors open to reveal another alien! This one must have been a man in a suit as he - it - REACHES INTO THE LIFT AND GRABS THIS GIRL'S ARM! I still remember her shrieks of pure terror.

Out the lift the other side - and we find ourselves in a chamber of alien eggs, swimming in dry ice. By now all of use are insane with terror, so we don't have to be told to be careful as we wind our way through the xenomorphic minefield. Thankfully (though rather disappointingly in retrospect) none of the eggs open, and we make it into the shuttle. By this time I was gibbering. "Check under the seats!" I shout before we strap ourselves in. "Good man!" grunts Colonel Hardass and my heart swells with pride. Then the shuttle takes off with a great shuddering and shaking and deafening racket (all effects obviously) and then the doors open to reveal - the gift shop.

"Well done ladies and gentleman you have survived Alien War", say Colonel Hardass and shakes all our hands.

I remember staggering dumbly out into the Spring sunshine of Picadilly Circus, and finding my way to Burger King where I sat, alternately shivering involuntarily and bursting out with laughter. My little mind had been fairly blown. It was two hours before I began to feel even vaguely normal.

I went back again a few years later, but it wasn't as good as the first time (diminishing returns) and it closed in 1996 due to a flood.

I appreciate that at no time was I in mortal danger and that the fear was nothing like that of finding a lump on your balls, but, honestly, I've never been so scared before or since that my legs *actually shook with terror.*

Best fiver I've ever spent!
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 18:09, 15 replies)

Indian bus rides
Hurtling down a mountain in a steel death trap with rather questionable brakes. All the while I'm trying to hold in my stomach crippling diarrhea and not pass out through the intense heat of the Indian summer.

And then you see the remains of another bus. Burned out and wrecked at he side of the road.

Fuck.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 16:47, Reply)

Terrifying hotel stay
This is a recent experience and, when I went through it, I wished that the 'creepy' qotw was still open. But, I write it here anyway because you can go check out the hotel for yourselves next time you are in central London and see how you react. I, for one, was shitting myself.

My colleagues at work (feeling in a generous mood) treated me to a weekend at the Lanesborough hotel in Knightsbridge for my Birthday..basically a swanky boys weekend. I had no idea about this hotel, but it's seriously luxurious. When you arrive, a butler in a penguin suit unpacks everything for you and your ’outfit for the evening’ is pressed.. You are given personalized stationary ( complete with business cards) so that when you go shopping, you can leave a card for the packages to be delivered. No minibar, but a range of large crystal decanters..etc etc. Each floor has that butler on standby and I must admit I got used to having my own personal Jeeves quite quickly

The first day and evening, we lapped it up..We sat in the bar drinking martinis and generally behaving like ponces. Went to sleep in a massive bed feeling very good about life.The next day, in the afternoon, I was walking out of my room and as I was locking the door, noticed five middle aged women standing in the corridor looking around them smiling. As I was walking towards them to get to the lift, I thought their manner was a bit odd (no one really hangs about in hotel corridors) and asked if they were lost in a friendly way. They laughed self-consciously and told me that they used to work on this floor when it was a hospital. I must have looked surprised, and so they nattered on, taking out an old photo album to show me, full of b&w photos of themselves in uniforms reminiscent of Carry On Nurse movies... They told me that they had come down to London for the weekend and the management of the hotel had let them walk around for old times sake. I asked them what my floor was and they said it was the ward used when people were in and out of intensive care, and pointed out the window to the curving road where the ambulances would come in. They were reminiscing as much to each other as to me and one of them mentioned ”Wasn't the grey lady on this floor?” and another one said ”no” just as they remembered that I was still standing there. Of course, I had to ask ”who was the grey lady?” and they all went quiet. Realising they had put their foot in it, they started by telling me that it was all ”ok”, there had been a service by a priest when they had started converting it to a hotel and then told me (still standing there, really wishing I hadn't asked the question) that they always knew when a patient in intensive care wasn't going to make it because they would ask the nurses ”who is the kind lady in the grey uniform?”. Many patients had given them several descriptions such that they reckoned that ”she” was wearing the uniform of a nurse in the crimean war, when the hospital was originally built.

So, all excited, I went to join my colleagues in the hotel bar. One of them is mega superstitious, and whilst going a shade of grey himself, he asked for the concierge to come and have a word. I related what the nurses had told me and this concierge spoke quietly and rather seriously that, yes, there had been ”instances” in the 17 years he had been working there. The official line was that there is ”nothing” to worry about, but he said that a number of staff had seen things that had ”really scared them” (his words) resulting in them handing in their notices and just walking out.

I asked what the most recent one was and he told us this:

Two weeks before, a ”well known politician” was in town with his entourage. The concierge was on the night shift and this big shot came downstairs in the middle of the night, in his pajamas, out of breath. He insisted that there was a woman in his room. Being who he was, there was extra security present 24/7 and they immediately went up to investigate. They returned saying the room was empty and the concierge meanwhile tried to reassure the frightened politician that, look, when we look at the computer records of the use of your key-card, no one has entered the room through the door. To which he replied ”she didn't come through the door, she came in through the wall”. He refused to go back upstairs and they had to wake his staff to pack up all his stuff and he checked out immediately.

At this point, I am beginning to get decidedly unsettled. The rational part of me said, ”don't be silly, perfectly simple explanation to all of this”. But, having a casual encounter with the nurses, seeing their photo album made me superimpose the vision of a hospital (and a Victorian one at that) onto the luxury facade that had been built up. Add to that a concierge who seemed to confirm what these strangers had told me was too much of a coincidence.

We carried on drinking and enjoying ourselves, but as the day progressed, all three of use were getting more and more quiet, and lost in our thoughts, knowing that at some point we would have to walk upstairs to our rooms in, what was to us now: essentially a haunted house

The irrational side of me took over when I did so. I have to admit I was really scared. I went through the normal routine of getting to bed (brushing teeth, having a piss), in quiet terror, my heart hammering away and I refused to look at any mirrors (or the walls for that matter). I did not sleep a wink but lay under the quilt, every single sound amplified by my imagination

The next day, my colleagues looked as knackered as I felt. We were happy to check out..

I know, they might have all been taking the piss...that thought did not help at the time

When you go visit it, think of a hospital and the layout of the place will make sense. In addition, ask if you can see the special luxury cigar smoking room in the basement. It's at the end of a long corridor and has no windows but set up with leather sofas and industrial strength extractors. The concierge told us it used to be the morgue.
(sabre32, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 15:38, 2 replies)

When about twelve or thirteen the family cat (a Maine coon)
used to wander into my room and sleep on my bed but was never allowed to sleep in there overnight with me. Unbeknownst to me she had learned how to open the door using the handle and one night she crept in and decided to take up a comfy sleeping position on the warmest spot she could find. The terror experienced when waking to discover that your eyes don't appear to be working and your face is being unexpectedly crushed by a warm heaving mass is not something I would choose to repeat. Adding insult to injury she did not take well to being forcibly removed and used her talons and the softer parts of my cheeks to resist.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Fri 6 Apr 2012, 14:15, Reply)

Pulling the wool
David Cameron informing the country that the fact we're fucked is the fault of unemployed people for being lazy, disabled people for being lazy, low income families for being lazy and having children, and of course if everyone who was being lazy just got a job everything would be just fine and dandy. Can't find a job? Then you must be lazy, there are loads of jobs! None where you live? Just get a bus, we have an excellent public transport system! Still can't get a job? Terminally lazy!

The terrifying bit? The number of people in this country that seem to believe this bullshit. Don't believe me? Just look at The Daily Mail's reader numbers. Truly pants-wetting.
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 12:55, 8 replies)

Glory holes (not that type) give me the fear...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K_8R03jIZI&feature=fvwrel
(samwisethesick, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 8:59, 1 reply)

When I was about 5 or so
an aquaintance had me convinced that the juice of one of the plants on their property was extremely toxic and with only skin contact, death was certain.
I cannot remember the circumstances, but somehow he had managed to get a fair quantity of this plant juice all over me.
So I sat for some time in my parents car pondering my fate, certain that death was near, scared shitless that I would be in the worst trouble I've ever been in, for dying.
It took me some time, but after thinking it through,I finally realised that if I was dead, I couldn't be in trouble.
Not a whole lot has rattled me since I figured that out.
(M61A1 CUPID- STUNTS, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 8:01, Reply)

Hold the line.
You know how you will sometimes read or hear about men in war standing to the last man? They could run or surrender, but they don't? Ever wonder what makes them stand and accept the horrible fate? So did I, until fate called upon me.

Picture the scene, early 2000's, it's a P.E lesson, the boys are 14-15 most too young to have felt a woman's touch, yet we were deemed old enough to risk life and limb. That week we had the trampoline out. An out dated monstrosity, criss crossed elastic strips on a steel frame. A few mats had been thrown around for safty, but our P.E teacher decides that while one person is jumping, the rest of the group surround the trampoline to form a safty barrier. Seemed wise at the time, until it comes the turn of the heavy set boy, who we will call B. B was not just large, but very large, unusualy, he wasn't a soft fat, but had an unusualy solid bulk, like rubber. B is bouncing, and doing pretty well, untill suddenly he lands funny and his next bounce sends him lurching forward.

Straight towards our end of the trampoline. Ever seen 20 stone (280 lb) of human sail towards you through the air? You can almost feel the gravity yanking the bulk down, anticipate the impact and every bone in your body prepairs to shatter. Every fiber of your body screams to move, but you don't. Self presivation beg's you to do somthing, but it's not an option. You have your orders, you're going to hold the line.there were 5 of us in the shadow, but a sense of duty, and more importantly, not wanting too look a coward held us in place. Well, all but one of us. The boy next to me, good lad, his nerves give. "Fuck this!" he cries, jumping back. B lands an inch shy of the edge, we all breath a sign of relief, until the whistle blows. "What the hell are you playing at son?!" demands the teacher, before slapping a detention on the poor boy who's nerve went for a split second. I knew it wasn't fair, we all did. We all wanted to do it, but we didn't.

We held the line.
(Mong goose, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 2:23, 1 reply)

This, obviously
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sg6IVUvVsAs

What compounded my fear was one morning I awoke to find my brother had managed to stand my parka jacket upright somehow next to my bed, so as I opened my eyes, I was looking straight into the darkened cowl of the hood.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 2:13, 1 reply)

I was five or six.
Nationwide (remember that programme, nearly-deads?) showed a reconstruction of this rather ridiculous tale at about 6pm.

www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/england/northumberland/legends/the-hexham-heads.html

Watching it, turd upon turd dropped from my frozen, twitching frame and I didn't sleep for about a year.
(judgetheobscure used to sweep in butchers' shops., Fri 6 Apr 2012, 1:18, 3 replies)

Military Trucking
In years gone by I was in the Fleet Air Arm. A Junglie Squadron composed of a number of Sea King MkIV aircraft and associated support troops. The aircraft regularly romped around the country/europe and to support I drove/co piloted a rumpty Bedford MK truck full of spares. We had recently watched the Twighlight Zone. On the way back to Yeovilton, at night, from an arduous trip I was passenger in a rumpty truck and trailer doing 60 mph down a steep hill in somerset.. My driver said 'you wanna be scared?' I looked at him. He said,' you wanna be really scared????' I shrugged. Then he switched off the headlights and laughed like a cnt. I didn't know he knew the road. I totally lost the plot. Scared? Bloody right.
(HildaOgdensdogsdead DILLIGAF. Well?? Do I??, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 0:57, 1 reply)

Erm, we've done this one already.
b3ta.com/questions/reallyscared/post73087
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Fri 6 Apr 2012, 0:04, 2 replies)