The streets are dark and lonely at that time of night, after the clubbers have all staggered off home and the homeless are curled up in doorways in back-alleys – and during the winter months, they can play tricks on the mind in the long hours between chucking-out time and dawn.
That was where I found myself – in an unfamiliar part of town, at a time when I really should have been tucked up in my bed. My money was all gone, even the twenty quid I was saving for a taxi had gone from a bottle on the shelf to the sewers via a cheap glass, my throat, and then my bladder.
So there I was, lost in a strange part of town, with only the vaguest idea where I was headed, and the certain knowledge that I would be lucky to get 20 minutes in bed before I had to get up for work.
Musing philosophically to myself as all the great drinkers, erm, sorry, thinkers do, I found myself suddenly distracted by something I caught out of the corner of my eye – whipping my head around (note to self – not a good idea when somewhat inebriated!), I noticed a house on the corner across the street, with a boarded-up door and a brightly lit orange room on the top floor with children at the window, jumping up and down and waving enthusiastically at me. Nonchalantly, I waved back before carrying on my merry way.
A few steps later, something started prodding at my subconscious – something wasn’t quite right, but my beer-befuddled brain couldn’t quite put its metaphorical finger on the problem. The bright orange light that seemed to waver, to ebb and flow, and the children’s waving that wasn’t so much enthusiastic as terrified, anguished, desperate to escape the flames tearing through the room…
OHMYSWEETFREAKIN’CTHULU! The house was on fire, and there were people trapped inside!
Fumbling in my pocket, I eventually pulled out my phone, somehow managing to drop a fistful of loose change, my keys, and a (still wrapped) condom on the floor while doing so, turned the phone on, and dialled 999, telling the emergency operator where I was and explaining about the fire.
That done, I ran up to the door of the building, aiming to kick it down, but managing only to fall over when my size 10’s proved ineffective at anything other than making a loud noise and sending a jarring pain shooting up my leg.
“HELP!” I shouted, “there are people trapped in this fire!”, but looking around me, I noticed that I was in an area with a distinct lack of housing, instead being mostly made up of run-down industrial units and derelict warehouses. No help was coming from there, so what was I to do?
Before I needed to make any form of decision, the sounds of a ringing bell and a noisy engine reverberated along the walls of the buildings, and a rather old-looking fire engine came screeching round the corner, barely managing to keep 3 wheels on the ground, and a crew dressed in what I almost took to be fancy dress costumes that looked vaguely like the uniforms worn by fire crews during World War 2 came pouring out of the cab, hurriedly donning basic face masks and checking they had their axes handy.
While most of the crew busied themselves with hooking up hosepipes, a man I took to be the person in charge approached me, seeming to look askance at my Metallica t-shirt and black jeans.
“Are you the person who reported this fire?” He asked.
I nodded.
“Okay, Sir, would you mind getting back to a safe distance, please, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” He went on. He pointed off to his left without looking.
“If you could stand over there, please, Sir, I’ll come and talk to you when we get this under control. Have you any idea how many people are in the house?”
I had to think for a minute.
“I saw 3 young children in that upper left window.”
Okay, Sir,” he said, “leave it to us, we’ll have this done in no time.”
He raised his voice – “Okay, men, let’s go!”, and with that he and his men entered the burning house.
I watched them for a few seconds, marvelling at their bravery, then turned and started walking to where he had indicated.
Before going more than 2 or 3 steps, however, there was a loud crashing noise behind me, and a wall of heat and pressure knocked me over. Stumbling to my feet, I looked back, to see that the building had collapsed – the bedroom the children was in was gone, the firemen were gone, the vintage fire engine was partially visible under tons of rubble, and flames leapt ever higher into the air.
For some reason, I took a step to my left, and reality seemed to warp and shift – just one step away from a pile of burning rubble, all that was visible was a vacant plot, most likely to be used for a temporary car park for at least a short while, and another step to my left revealed a tall apartment building in that spot.
Moving back to the right, the burning remains of a building were still there, and the black glass and steel apartment building was nothing but a memory.
Confused for a minute I stood there, shaking my head, only to be startled by the sound of a revving engine behind me, as well as the electronic burbling siren accompanied by the flashing blue and red LED lights of a modern fire engine coming around the corner.
The vehicle screeched to a halt just feet from me, and the doors opened, with firemen in various states of dress spilling out.
One of the fire men approached me, his gaze switching between my face and the area behind me.
I looked back over my shoulder, to see that the vacant plot was back, with no building to be see, no orange lights, or piles of rubble.
“Are you the person who called about a fire, here?” he asked as I turned back to face the fire crew, who were milling around uncertainly.
“Yes ,” I replied, uncertainly, ” but I think there may have been some mistake…”
“Yeah, ordinarily, we would be calling for the Police to question you about wasting our time, but there is something about this place – we get called out to this spot at this time every Halloween.”
I shifted my position, trying to bring back either the remains of the house, or the tower block, but… nothing.
I couldn’t show him what I saw just a few minutes earlier, and even the memory was slowly starting to fade, slowly swept away as the alcohol swept through my bloodstream.
“There was a burning house – there were children in the corner bedroom, and a very old fire engine – the bloke in charge told me to step back, then the house collapsed, burying everyone – then it was gone…”
“Yeah,” he replied, ” this part of Ancoats was hit badly during the war – the last remaining houses on this street were hit by a bomb on Halloween, 1942, and it collapsed on one of our fire engines trying to rescue a family with 3 kids, and we lost all of them, but we get reports of a fire here every year.”
I paused – my experience with the supernatural was fairly extensive, but I had never encountered an actual ghost before.
“There was a glass and steel tower block as well…”
He laughed.
“Yeah, apparently, someone is trying to fill the last free space here that isn’t already covered in apartments, but the council is trying to re-do it as gardens, but they need the money, so it could be you’re seeing an echo of the future as well as shades of the past,” and he winked knowingly at me.
“Anyway, Sir, could I have your name for our records?” he asked, turning professional again.
“Rob Knash.”
He looked at me, surprised.
“With a K?”
I grinned, thinking I had unexpectedly found a fan – or possibly someone with a grudge, it was hard to tell, sometimes.
“Yeah,” I replied.
His face lit up.
“Any relation to the Punk singer from the ’70s? My dad was a big fan when he was at school, he used to play me one of your singles when I was a kid!”
Ahhh, how to explain my youthful appearance when, actually, I am the person he is thinking of, who is at least several years older than his dad?
“Yeah, something like that.”
I think it’s best to gloss over the truth, not least because it makes me sound like a madman to all the normals, but also because my bladder has just reminded me that it exists, and I reckon I am still a mile or so from home.
He turned back to the flashing blue and red lights, and the men who were lounging around.
“Okay, lads, we’re done here!” he said, not quite shouting, “Saddle up, let’s get back to the station!”
And with that, and a final glance back at me, he climbed into the vehicle with his crew, and they sped off.
Which leaves me with just one problem.
I still have no idea where I am, and in all the fun and games, I’ve forgotten which direction I came from.
