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Night of the walking dead

This time, I wasn't faking it...


Published by: Amy Thompson
Published on: 15th November 2010

Witches, ghosts, vampires… the fancy dress shop had all the old favourites. There were also some pretty gory fake wounds you could stick on yourself, along with half a gallon of fake blood. But could I convince my fella Glyn Morris, 27, to try on a Halloween costume…?
‘No way,’ he snorted, as I held a Count Dracula cape against him. ‘You’re not getting me in a daft outfit. I’m not eight, you know.’
‘Well, you’re not 80, either,’ I grumbled, putting the cape back on the rail. ‘Where’s your sense of fun?’
Just then, Glyn’s sister Lisa came running over.
‘Check this out,’ she grinned, showing me a skimpy nurse’s outfit complete with white stockings and a little hat. ‘A bit of white make-up and fake blood and I’ll look like a zombie nurse.’
‘Ooo, I love it,’ I smiled. ‘I can’t find anything I like…’
‘Come as a nurse, too,’ she said. ‘The party’s at my place – if you guys come round early, we can do our make-up together.’
‘Sounds like a plan!’ I beamed.
Glyn rolled his eyes. That night he was still refusing to get into the spirit of things.
‘Grumpy devil… Hey, maybe he could go to the party as that,’ I sniggered to myself.
Still, at least my two sons from a previous relationship were getting excited about their ghost get-up. They weren’t coming to the party with us, but their dad Gordon had agreed to babysit for the evening, and take them trick or treating.
Before we left, I kissed Jaydan, four, and Lewis, two.
‘Be good for Daddy,’ I smiled, cuddling them. ‘And don’t eat too many sweets.’
They nodded, hugging me goodbye.
At Lisa’s, I couldn’t believe what she’d done with her three-bed house. It was only 5pm, but the sky was almost black, and carved pumpkins and witches’ brooms decorated the front garden. Cool!
‘I love Halloween,’ I gushed, as me and Glyn made our way up the drive. ‘It’s so magical, I feel like anything could happen…’
‘Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts and goblins?’ he chuckled, looking all macho in his blue shirt and jeans.
‘Of course!’ I grinned. ‘But only on Halloween.’
I squeezed his arm playfully, but he just looked at me like I’d lost the plot.
Still, me, Lisa and her friend Kyla had a right laugh putting pasty make-up on so we looked like the walking dead. I sprinkled loads of fake blood on, too.
‘Too much?’ I asked.
Lisa cocked her head to one side. ‘Nah, you can’t have too much gore!’ she giggled, splashing on a bit more.
The party was a hit. Everybody except Glyn had dressed up, and we all had a dance to the Monster Mash and Thriller.  None of us made it to the witching hour, though – by 11pm, I was shattered.
We said our goodbyes and I climbed into the front passenger seat beside Glyn.
‘I still can’t believe you wouldn’t wear a costume,’ I teased, as we drove along the dark street. ‘A bit of blood would have livened up your clothes a treat!’
‘Load of commercial rubbish,’ he mumbled.
‘You really don’t believe in ghosts?’ I asked, disappointed at his lack of imagination.
He opened his mouth to reply when something caught my eye in the bushes by the roadside.
What the…?
Before Glyn could say a word, the figure of a young boy dashed out in front of the car.
‘Look out!’ I shrieked, as the headlights momentarily lit up the boy sprinting in front of our car…
It was too late, he was too close… There was no way Glyn could brake in time!
Without hesitating, he swerved the car to avoid the figure darting across the road. There was no other traffic, it would’ve been fine… if it hadn’t been for a hollow in the road by the kerb…
Suddenly, we were vaulted into the air, spinning as the car rolled over and landed with a screech of metal grinding across concrete on its roof. My body slammed against the seatbelt, my head snapping forward.
As the car juddered to a standstill, I groaned in agony. Blood rushed to my head as I hung upside down.
‘Glyn…’ I whimpered. ‘My hand hurts.’
A burning pain was surging through my left arm, something warm and sticky soaked through my clothes.
‘It’s okay,’ he gasped. ‘I’m going to get us out.’
Unclipping his seatbelt, he crawled beneath me to open my door, and scrambled out before reaching in and unbuckling my belt. Very carefully, he pulled me out on to the pavement.
The moment he saw my hand though, he gagged.
‘Oh my God!’ he spluttered.
I followed his horrified gaze and felt my stomach churn. My arm looked just as if it’d been through a shredder!
My skin had peeled off like a glove to reveal a bloody mess of bone and muscle. I fought the urge to be sick, collapsing to the floor.
‘Ambulance,’ I heard Glyn’s muffled voice, as blood pounded in my ears. ‘My girlfriend’s hurt. We’ve been in a car crash…’
It was like a scene from a horror movie as I took in the hole in the car windscreen, flaps of my skin still stuck to the edge of the shattered glass where one of my hands had gone straight through it.
‘Here, let me tie my shirt around it, stop the bleeding…’ Glyn said.
‘No!’ I screamed, shaking. ‘Don’t touch it!’
There was so much blood… and none of it was fake.
People ran from their houses to help, but I wouldn’t let anyone touch me until the ambulance arrived. Paramedics took me and Glyn to hospital, where I was dosed up with painkillers.
God knows how I managed to stay conscious. But seeing nurses and doctors rushing around, I realised how strange I must have looked.
‘Bet they think I’m pulling some sort of Halloween prank!’ I said, trying to smile. ‘I’m dressed as a zombie nurse, and half my hand is missing.’
I was taken on to a ward and told I’d lost so much skin on my hand, I’d have to have a graft from my thigh.
When I woke up from my op, my arm was bandaged so firmly, I couldn’t move it. But the second I saw Glyn and the kids, I didn’t care about that – I was just glad I was alive!
‘The police have absolutely no idea who ran out in front of the car,’ Glyn told me. ‘It was as if he just disappeared into thin air… or maybe…’
‘Maybe what?’ I frowned. ‘Wait a minute… you’re not telling me you believe in ghosts now!’
Glyn shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll never know.’
I couldn’t help laughing, despite the pain.
A year on, my hand has recovered well, although I’ll always have scars. But this year I reckon I’ll take a leaf out of Glyn’s book and leave Halloween horror stories to someone else!
Kelly Lister, 23, Leeds, West Yorkshire