If zombies were real, I'd be dead right now

[madthought]

I had a somewhat unconventional new years. There were just three of us. We stayed in for a bit and watched a bit of Dylan Moran, before the road became too inviting to pass up. It was about half nine when we set off. On the way down it was deathly quiet, save for two or three old men outside a pub who cracked a generic 'you're a youth, henceforth shall get very drunk tonight' joke (we didn't). Carrying on down the jack the Ripper-esque street, sprayed here and there with skeletons of old vomit, we started to ponder what it was that awaited us. We had heard rumour that a bunch of hipster kids were staying out all night at a field somewhere cross town. I didn't know how far I trusted either the news or the event, but I was damned if I was going to stay indoors on such a night as this. Having said that, the weather wasn't all that great. It was overcast as I remember, and quite cold. It was, as I said, an uneventful journey down, that is until we got to the park. It was by no means a dangerous park, although it wasn't without it's pot holes. On either side of us there were old, rusty pieces of playground equipment. In front of us, like a pearl, stood the bandstand. For those of you who don't know, this art deco bandstand does not look unlike the Millennium Dome, and is open to the elements. A foul stench of burning invaded my nostrils. At first I feared the worst; that we had stumbled upon a heavy metal burn party, and were on the verge of being forced into a wall of death. I saw a black spiral spread about on the floor. It looked like a scorched rune, until I got in closer and saw that it was, in fact, just water. It is an easy mistake to make in such light, I assure you. Down we headed to the field I mentioned earlier. As we did so, mist rolled in from the hills and surrounded us. We could still see the skyline, or what passes for one round here, but our feet were completely shrouded to us. Just our chests stuck out from the thick blanket. We called and called, but heard nothing. The field stretched out in front of us for miles. I tripped on an old collapsed fence. I wasn't feeling scared, by any means. There was a jovial air about the night, and I was entertained by the notion that what we were in was essentially a zombie movie. After assuring ourselves that there was no-one to be found in the park, we clambered up a muddy slope. I was wearing work shoes, and slipped down a few times. My hands were muddy. We walked up to a nearby pub. My friend said that all of the kids from the grammar school go there because they serve children alcohol. This didn't strike a good cord with me, for I neither drink nor like children. Still, on we went. Upon arrival, it was clear that we were not getting in this pub. It was bursting with people, and a shot glass stood on a high brick wall, with no clues as to how it got there. On we went. It felt like I was watching the whole night on a television screen. Normally I'd feel a sense of danger when walking about the streets of the town at such an hour, but people were in good spirits, given the occasion. We walked passed another pub, without even checking to see if it was full or not (although it most certainly was). We walked down Gabriel's Hill, which is a lot less romantic than the name implies I assure you, and through the old graveyard. I was aware that I was face to face with crypts and more dead bodies than i care to imagine, but, again, it just felt to me as though I were watching a film. We got word that someone's brother was playing doorman at a club that claimed to centre around jazz (although in actuality, it was an anti social nightmare and played trance music at an unbearably high volume). He wasn't there. Big surprise.

After wandering round for two hours the road spat us right back where we started; my street. It was all very dreamlike.