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On Friday night I saw death. My greatest fears realised and thrust into my face. I was chased down a corridor by a screaming clown.
If you know me, you’ll know I’m terrified of my own shadow, so you’ll know how thrilled I must have been to be invited to Manchester’s newest Halloween attraction, House of the Dead.
Mate, seriously. I started feeling nauseous whilst standing in the queue to get in because I was so scared. I went with our resident Editor-in-Chief Adam Lowe and fellow Vada writer Samuel Alexander, who thought it absolutely hilarious that I was shitting my pants.
We had margaritas and huge delicious pizzas before we went in but even they couldn’t settle my nerves. I felt like you do just before you get onto a rollercoaster. Like a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t the four pizzas we had. It was terror. Sheer terror. No me gusta.
If you want to hear my full breakdown and mental-trauma-word-vomit, I uploaded a new video to my YouTube channel and you can see it here:
Okay, now I’ve finished this write up I’m going to cry in a corner and repress this entire experience.
Meanwhile, Samuel Alexander said:
I don’t mean to brag, but I am a PRO when it comes to horror films – particularly slashers. I’ve been playing Until Dawn solidly for two weeks now; I can make decisions under pressure. So, I went in to Manchester’s House of the Dead with absolutely no intention of being scared. I was prepared. Then they separated me from my group … They knew what they were doing!
Okay, so I knew that I wasn’t going to die or be deliberately harmed in any way, but when I was forced to crawl into a narrow, dark tunnel I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of threat (probably because they didn’t tell me I was going to slide in to a solid wall). From that point on I didn’t see my gays until the end.
I had to endure being chased in to the darkness by zombies and clowns all alone. The dark spaces were used quite cleverly, open just enough for me to feel a bit lost and helpless, but closed enough for me to not actually get lost (I did at one point, but was too scared to go back … awkward five minutes).
My one major gripe – the queuing system! Towards the end there’s a single fortune teller, and she can naturally only talk to one person at a time. Before that I got stuck in a rather warm room for a good half an hour watching a repeating show. The actor not only sent me to the back of the ‘queue’ as part of the show, but they also didn’t stop people from running into this poor fortune tellers’ room. Eventually, the actor realised I was watching the door impatiently and had to make it clear to everyone that I was next to leave. He stayed in character for it, so bravo, but with better organisation he might not have had to say anything at all.
Luckily there’s a bar at the end.