Real life is far scarier than horror movies

This is a true story about the most scared I have ever been in my life.


If this was a horror movie, then I would probably think, yeah well, nice horror sequence but that wouldn’t happen in real life. Well this really did happen…




When the writer Alex and I were first starting to think about making a horror movie, we spent days on end location hunting around derelict buildings in central London.


It was quite scary walking round these buildings just because you would never be sure what would be waiting around the next corner.



After a days spent location hunting, I caught a late night tube back on my own.


Normally I don’t get scared travelling on my own. I had lived in London long enough to have my “single girl on her own but prepared for anything” defences up, but this night was different.


It was a Sunday night around ten pm and the tubes were deserted. There was not a soul around, neither on the trains or on the platforms. I had been on the Piccadilly line and was crossing underground to the Northern Line at Kings Cross.


Now I knew all about the terrible Kings Cross tube fire in November 1987 that claimed nearly thirty lives. That was a terrible tragedy and just knowing that people had died in those tunnels, always gave me the shivers. Ok, it was dirty, dingy and depressing, but I always felt easy about being underground at Kings Cross.


That Sunday night, I opted to go through the short tunnel linking the Piccadilly line to the Northern Line. It’s a bit of a weird tunnel, you go down these steps, you turn a corner, there’s a covered tunnel about fifty metres long, then you turn another corner and descend the steps down onto the Northern Line platform. There are strip lights lining the tunnel above and a mirror security camera half-way along the tunnel, but even when this tunnel is buzzing with people, I always hated using it.


So I’m on my own, no-one else is around and I walk quickly down the steps into the tunnel.


Straight away, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My spidey sense is definitely tingling and my ears strain to listen to any sound. I think it’s a sixth sense that women develop when you think you’re being followed. Even though I could see no-one else there, I know someone is following me.


I quicken my pace and descend the stairs and make it round the corner into the tunnel passageway. By now, I am walking really quickly, not quite running. The thing is, even though I KNOW someone else is behind me, I don’t turn around, I don’t want to see who or what it is, I just want to get out of there.


I am bracing myself, waiting for my worst fear to be realised. I am absolutely terrified, far more scared than walking around abandoned buildings during the day and my night-time experiences of contacting the dead. They didn’t even come close to registering on the fear richter scale.


I am shallow breathing, forcing myself to go even faster, practically running and I glance up at the mirror security camera. To my total surprise, there is no-one behind me.


I don’t understand it. I could feel someone behind me. My hairs were all on end. I was the most terrified I had been in my life.


I still don’t turn around but I slow my pace slightly, trying to normalise myself. It’s ok, I tell myself over and over again. You just need to get down the stairs and then you’ll be on the platform and there will be people about and it will all be fine.


I walk quickly through the remaining twenty yards of the tunnel then go round a bend onto the steps that lead to the Northern Line platform. I am still breathing erratically and I can’t shift the feeling that someone is still following me. But rounding the bend, my heart skips as I see there’s no-one else on the platform. I am completely alone. There’s no sign of any trains. There is no sound.


I practically jump down those last few steps and I land hard on the platform. But I don’t move. I brace myself. I am going to confront whoever it is that is behind me. I am going to face my fear.


I turn around but nothing can prepare me for what happens next. Even now I get a cold-sweat thinking about it.



And I’ll tell you about it in my next post.


~ by female film maker on November 5, 2008.

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