This probably isn’t the scariest thing on here, but it is true so that counts for something.
To give some context before I get into what happened. I live in a shithole town in England, it’s one of those places that has nothing going for it but people still live here because it’s cheap. As with many other such places we have a pretty fucked up drug problem. It’s not uncommon to see the local homeless whip out the spoons and needles in broad daylight on the Main Street. But the worst one is something called Monkey Dust.
I don’t know how widespread it is, it probably exists in other places with a different name. It’s supposed to be a poor man’s cocaine, cheaper and stronger. In reality it’s more like meth (in its effect if not it’s substance) and is infamous for making people violent. Very violent. Bath salts violent. There’s a disturbing amount of stories of people murdering their own family members, and other horrific things like that after a dose of that shit. Look it up if you’re trying to ruin your night.
So if you hadn’t guessed this story is about an encounter with dust monkey. When I was a teenager me and my friends were stoner delinquents. Very stereotypical. We were always looking for good out of the way spots were we could smoke, and with it being winter we needed a spot with some shelter. So it seemed fortunate that a nearby hotel had gone under and had been abandoned for a month or so.
We decided to check it out, mostly because we were bored and the cold had made our hands to numb to skin a joint with. The building was three stories tall and locked up tight from the front. However the back of the building was tiered so we could climb story by story to an open fire escape. Feeling like criminal geniuses having gained access to this unguarded building, we went inside.
The hallway where we entered was trashed. Broken glass covered the floor, making each step painfully loud as we tried to sneak room to room. The place was abandoned, but it didn’t quite feel abandoned enough for us to be comfortable in there. Anything valuable had already been stolen (tvs and electronics), but alot the rooms were mostly untouched. Fully furnished, beds made, everything. We wanted to have a look around before we settled in a room so we went down to the middle floor.
There was something fucked about the middle floor. The best way I can describe it is that it was to busy. It had seen traffic since the hotel closed. There were smears on the wall(brown of course) and the floor was scattered with bottles, cans and wrappers. There were double doors in the middle of the hallway that we all approached as if we meant to open them and explore what was behind, but as we got closer we all lost our nerve. The doors were slightly ajar, with wire wrapped around the handles. A strange amount of floating dust particles could be seen in the light from our phones. Our subconscious picking up on something our brains were to stupid to notice, we left the doors alone and went back up stairs.
When we picked a room to smoke up in, I made sure to thoroughly barricade the door. Smartest thing I did all day, which isn’t saying much. The bed, the end tables, the desk. Everything against the door. Our exit was the window, which led onto one of the roofs we climbed to get in. And then we set ourselves up comfortably and sparked up.
I don’t know how long it took before things took a turn. Must’ve been about an hour. We’d made ourselves at home, kicked back making jokes and laughing like we belonged there. Then there was a bang on the door. When I say bang I don’t mean a loud knock, I mean the sound of somebody trying to knock the door off it’s hinges. I would like to stress that we did not hear him coming despite the broken glass, which means the fucker was deliberately quiet to catch us by surprise. And now he wanted in.
We all shit ourselves and began to pile out of the window. I was last in the queue. Our chemically enthused guest was still wailing on the door. Punching, kicking, shoulder barging. He wasn’t saying anything but I could hear him grunting and wheezing and his weird dust monkey vocalisations. He’d busted in the door, and would’ve been in there with us, but he couldn’t open the door past the shit I piled against it. I am patting myself on the back, fuck you.
After we were all out onto the roof, still confused as to what exactly was going on, some of us had our flight turn to fight. We armed ourself with any old shit we could find up there and returned to the window to see he hadn’t broken through and seemed to have stopped trying. What we did next was dumb, and probably a result of our wounded pride having lost our shit. We could hear him rustling, whimpering, very Gollum esque, and we taunted him.
Most of what we said probably made no sense, adrenaline does that, not that he would’ve understood anyway. He made no reply and we didn’t hear anything for a few seconds. Until the silence was broken by rapid crunching footsteps… heading towards the fire door… that opened on to the roof where we were stood. Our fight turned back into flight and our pants were re-shit as we legged it off the roof. I saw one of my friends take a hefty fall without sticking the landing, he didn’t seem to notice and just kept going. My mind could’ve been playing tricks on me, but I swear I saw the guy stood on the top roof as we reached the bottom.
We ran for longer than we probably needed to. When we were sure we were clear we called it a night. The story doesn’t quite end the though. One night I passed by the place as I often did because it’s on the way to my friends house. Just as I’m approaching it a police car pulls in with its lights on, which gets my attention. As I get a better look the place is crawling with police. At least 6 cars, 2 vans, they even have dogs with them. So yeah something fucked happened there.
0 out of 5 stars, would not recommend