We got Mr Timothy Wilson to send over his recollection of the night we kindly welcomed him and his pals to our town...
Having seen Horsham in numerous parkour videos and heard about it from others, George, Eric, James and I decided to make a trip down for a few days’ worth of training and adventure. James met me on the train down from Kent, George drove down, and Eric was to meet us there from Slough in the late afternoon. After a sick day of training and that, we said goodbye to George who was driving home again, and a few local lads showed us to a field, where we were planning on setting up Eric’s tent and kipping for the night. So far so good. James stood guard while Eric and I stocked up on provisions from Sainsbury’s and then we all cosied in to the three-man tent together... lol ghey.
After joking around a bit about whether or not we were sharing our field with Slenderman, we quietened down and tried to get some sleep. Somehow I managed to drop off after about an hour (it was bloody freezing and I only had a sleeping bag for comfort, with my rucksack as a pillow), and was happily snoring away in a cramped ball when Eric nudged me in the face. “Did you hear that?” I strained my ears and heard nothing. “What?” “That noise...it sounded like footsteps.” “You sure?” I replied, just as a twig snapped right outside our tentflap. “Oh shit, shit yeah I heard that one.” “What do we do?” Something started moving on the opposite side of the tent, something that sounded quite large. James suddenly sat bolt upright. “Guys, did you hear that?” It then occurred to me that we were in unknown territory in the middle of the night all tangled up in sleeping bags and no way of moving out of our tent, with what sounded like a wolf prowling around outside our tent, or possibly Slenderman. “Guys, what do we do?” The sinister shifting sounds in the leaves were growing more deliberate, and I had the curious sensation that we were being stalked. “Is it a human, d’you think?” I whispered. “Hello?” Eric abruptly called out, and at once the noises fell silent. We all huddled together, just listening out and experiencing real fear at the prospect of being raped or eaten alive or both, which wasn’t at all pleasant. For some reason I thought to myself about how pointless everything had been, if I ended up being bludgeoned to death in a field during the small hours of the morning. It was one of those ‘life flashes in front of you’ moments. Genuinely, I was terrified, and writing this down now that seems a bit pathetic but back then I really was. And then something started scratching against a tree, about two feet away from where we were huddled, just the other side of the tent wall. “What the-?” We all drew closer into our sleeping bags, eyes glued to the front of the tent which was pointless because it was so dark. At this point it was probably about fifteen minutes since Eric had woken me up, which was more than enough time to be wondering what the holy f*ck was going on outside your tent. Then suddenly on the other side of the tent, as well as the awful scratching sound, something started actually growling. The three of us barely had time to exchange blind glances when a weird sort of wailing, well, wailed at us from yet another side of the tent.
This was too much. “James quick, just open the flap, just open it!” Whispered Eric, although what we were planning on actually doing after exposing ourselves I’m not entirely sure. I’m not entirely sure what happened next either really, for as soon as James’ hand had opened the zip a few inches all of a sudden the darkness around us exploded as people (thank God it was people) just screamed and shook the tent, which actually made me jump into Eric’s arms like on Scooby Doo. “STAY IN THE TENT!!! STAY IN THE F*CKING TENT!! STAY IN THE TENT!! WE'RE GONNA F*CKING KILL YOU!!!” “Eh?!” moments after the shouting began I was being kicked in the ribs through the tent wall “STORROR!” “What the...you BASTARDS! It’s Storror!” They all whooped, chanted and tore off, and we scrambled out of the tent and legged it after them shaking our fists, following their torches until we met them under a tree at the other end of the field. Drew, Max, Benj, Toby and Sacha were there, all kitted out in warm clothing and cackling at us. We all had a good laugh over it, and they told us how they’d been looking for our tent for about an hour before they’d found where we’d carefully hidden it behind a log. “Sorry lads, couldn’t resist, it had to be done – we were gonna bring a chainsaw out and start it up to scare you, but we couldn’t find one.” After another few minutes’ chat, we said goodnight and headed off to our tent again, and they disappeared into the woods. We didn’t have our shoes on, so we were freezing, and were all paranoid about being attacked again so didn’t get any sleep either. But it was a bloody good trip and I’m looking forward to going down again in the summer.
Moral of the story... Don't camp on Storror turf.
// Team Jestion hit home with the sickest intro video!