Halloween, or Night of the Event of It!
Created | Updated Oct 16, 2016
It was a dark night in Yorkshire…
Well, I laughed my fool head off at this.
Halloween, or Night of the Event of It!
It was sometime long ago, but not hundreds of years exactly, but more like in the late 1960s. A group of youths were sat around a sort of shelter within a children's playground. This playground had not been in use for many years and the swings were just the initial framework, with the small roundabouts barely functioning, the grass and tarmac paths long past a decent state. To most! It would be called a derelict area, but it was a meeting place, where the local youths could be free of the constraints of generalised law and order and not told to move on from hanging around street corners etc.
As the group were sat around at this particular time and night falling, one youth jumped up in a start and one of the females of the group asked what was the matter? The lad asked what the date was, with a feared look in his face that put the others on the defence. When the date was revealed, he said that he might head off home; the atmosphere was decidedly becoming tense and another person asked why he was going to go. He said to the group don't you know what today is! And you all live locally, hairs began to stand on some as the attention led towards the lad and expecting more information of an unknown event. To which he continued that THIS was the anniversary of a small boy who died on one of the swings, when the playground was in its heyday, apparently he was playing on his own when a burly youth who was the area's bully came up behind him and with an almighty push, sent him flying upwards at which he lost his grip on the chains of his swing, this caused him to hit the floor in an awkward way, whereas he broke his neck and died on the spot. The bully had run off and had no one had seen this tragedy happen, so the police case had remained open ever since, hoping one day that the crime could be solved and the culprit be brought to justice.
A boy asked is THAT it then, so the story teller said NO! Because every year on this night, the boys spirit returns to walk the playground and all the swings and rides begin to operate and the noises of creaking chains etc fill the air, as the boy seeks out the one who murdered him. By this time, night had really fallen and it was pitch black and with everyone on edge in a nervous disposition, the story-telling lad 
ed to himself, that he had made it all up and they'd bought the tale. THEN! As if all hell had broken lose! EVERYONE jumped in absolute fear, as a dark unseen shape ran in and around everyone, panic filled the air, cigarette lighters were being lit to try to 'see' what this demonic being was and even the storyteller had a sweat on. He wasn't the largest or strongest (or bravest) boy there, but even those were readily shaken.
Then! All became apparent, as a man came round the corner of the shelter laughing, as he'd heard a little of the story (sound travels at night you know) as he WALKED his BLACK Labrador in to the playground for his nightly constitutionals.
OH! And by the way, that story teller was ME! And boy! The effect, did it work a treat!
Did I get some names called after! Oh yes!
