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I’ve spent the last 17 months recovering from a particularly horrific Halloween party and I’m reluctant to accept this invitation to another one.
Still, if you have to face your fears, where better to do it than with a group of thrill seekers who think nothing of taking ‘daring’ to its limit?
Yes, I know it’s early, but believe me, forewarned is never forearmed.
MARCH a wonderful month for rehearsing base jumping. Especially from the topmost turret of the ruined tower – a decrepit lookout towards the sea. Scraped skin leaves a suitable fee for the monolith – it being known locally as the Black Tower.
A mist hangs over the sluggish green-grey waves as I grasp a tussock of grass sprouting from the wall before hauling myself to an upright position and balancing on what was once a stone windowsill. It’s now a crumbling shelf that seems to move with each shaky inhale of my breath.
I’ve no head for heights. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. The intention is to conquer the thing which stops my heart momentarily, so crazy is what I’ll be.
Arms spread wide, shoulders back I launch myself out of the window and take flight. My costume is that of a flying squirrel which allows me to circle in ever descending loops without falling like a brick. This is no concrete parachute.
OCTOBER and I’m enjoying myself as I sneak in behind Paul and Sophie, they didn’t even know I was there, bless ‘em.
I don’t drink the stuff in the cauldron, it’s too strong for my taste – all that vodka-laced crème de menthe – yuk.
A small black cat rubs against my shin and mews. Dear little thing. I lift it up and snuggle my face into its fur. So warm and lush.
Strange, everyone is pressed against the far wall. There’s nothing behind me that I can see. Except the cat. There’s no sound coming from my friends, but the music is still banging away.
I shrug. No point in wasting all this lovely food. I reach out and grab a leg of chicken. My favourite.
Several people faint and the rest are dodging around me to get to the door.
As I munch I read the headline of a newspaper cut-out stuck to the fridge:
‘Skeleton of young woman found at base of cliff beneath The Black Tower.’
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