Somebody once wrote, "Hell is the impossibility of reason."

I had heard this quote before and until recently only had a vague idea of what it meant. After what happened to me on the twelfth of May, I now know what it means.

I did not encounter Hell that night. I did not lose all hope. All reason.

But I came close.

Near the university there is a road. For reasons too long and too intricate this road gained notoriety as a place to be feared. The 'scary road'. Now there was nothing particularly scary about this road but once my friends and I had got this notion of horror in our minds, we ran with it.

Every time we drove down the road we would pretend to be scared. We would pretend until eventually hysteria was reached. We would scream, shout and intentionally set out to frighten each other, because we believed it was fun.

The night of the twelfth started out as a bit of fun.

Its conclusion was far from it.

We began the night by doing what we had never done before. Stopping the car on 'scary road' and getting out. As terrifying as we wanted it to be, it never really was. It was still just a laugh. It was still fun.

This sense of fun was infectious. Eventually our drivers thought it would be fun to flee and leave us stranded.

At first my friends and I participated in the game, hiding from any oncoming headlights and exploring the seemingly innocuous surrounding area. The minutes grew longer as we continued to delve into the thick country that lined the road.

Suddenly a flashlight swung wildly in the distance and the realization that we were trespassing burst into our heads.

We ran.

Away from the light, away from the way we came. Into the dark.

With no street lamps to guide us we relied on our senses. Our eyes eventually adapted to the night and our ears began to work more acutely. A sense of frivolity still fresh in our veins, we would use every passing car as an opportunity for a joke. Laughing and kidding at the prospect of how a driver would feel seeing three solitary figures morosely wandering down an empty road, in the pitch black of Saturday night.

Our moods were high.

There was a gentle breeze in the air and the soft feeling of rain on our faces almost gave us a sense of security.

We were still lost, but we were having a good time of it.

Eventually we found our way to some housing. Three or four traditionally rural houses lined the path ahead of us, and we thought nothing of them. One thought that did however cross our minds was what people would think if they saw us.

Out in the country people own guns. That was a fact that made us uneasy, slightly on edge. The perfect time then for a group of dogs to start barking ferociously at us.

The sound was piercing and sent shivers down the spine. For the second time that night we began to run. Terrified of a resident with a shotgun coming out and mistaking us for criminals.

We ran until we found a seemingly uninhabited driveway upon which to crouch behind. Of course, it wasn't uninhabited and the owner soon found his way to the second storey window out of which he bellowed at us;

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, nothing," we quivered, "we were just leaving."

And off we ran again; this time fearful that the man would ring the police and bring in a whole new element to this increasingly surreal and frightening night.

We made it halfway up a hill when the night had other plans.

"Oi! Oi you!"

A woman's voice screamed into our ears.

"OI!"

The voice was awful. Cracked yet deep, and undeniably close. A night that had started with an innocent game had now turned terribly into something much more sinister.

Again we ran.

Our muscles ached, our legs were on fire, our adrenaline was incomprehensible. We ran until we were numb. We ran for our lives.

Now while this may not seem that scary to those reading I assure you that it was. The fear that we ourselves had created, the stigma that surrounded this road was now a reality. It could be heard, it could be touched and it could be smelt. The air was thick in our lungs as the rain began to increase.

Onward we struggled, doubting ourselves and doubting our own knowledge of the road. We had only ever been down here in a car. On foot it seemed unconquerable. Endless.

Just then a noise arose from the dark. It was music. A piece of music began to play off behind us. Not the entire song though, only a few bars. After that we were plunged back into silence. At first we didn't really acknowledge it. It could have been anything so why would it have anything to do with us?

Then it happened again.

This time clearer, yet at the same distance. The identical few bars of music played once again and now we acknowledged it. Our step quickened as our fear was once again reignited. The piece of music played again, but this time we did not stick around to hear it.

At this point we were past midnight. As we emerged into the early hours of the morning, we began to make sense of where we were and how we were going to get back. We continued our journey through dimly lit suburbia until eventually we reached a road that we were certain would bring us back the warm comfort of our beds.

This road was undeniably eerie. In front of us lay a roundabout with three exits, giving the road the shape of a cross. To our left was a recognisably safe looking cul-de-sac, well lit and with a lot of houses lining it. To our right, the same. Ahead of us though, on the road we knew we had to take, was darkness. However this was no ordinary darkness, this was not what we had seen previously. This night was intense and the thickest shade of black I have ever witnessed.

Down this road was something that we did not want to face, but we knew it was the only route available to us.

As we set off up the steep hill, we assured ourselves that our eyes would adjust. Eventually we would be able to see where we were going. This was not the case. A permanent dark enveloped us.

We could not turn back.

We had to carry on.

By now the fear had gripped us. We were beginning to choke under it. It almost felt like losing your mind. It was one of the strangest sensations I have ever felt and certainly one that I would never wish upon anyone. It was horror.

Light.

Streetlamps lined a road in the distance. The subtle rumble of cars. This was a main road. We were safe.

Just at the point when it seemed lost, our hope was once again found. We were mere minutes from being in the golden glow of artificial light. About to emerge from the darkness and find solace.

We arrived at the top and looked around this road that we found ourselves on. This was not the road we thought it had been. This was not our road home.

Realization.

We were on 'scary road' once more.

Despite our best efforts we had not escaped the road. Somehow, we had been sucked back in.

At that point, it was soul-destroying.

I'm afraid I can't describe it any other way. It may seem an over dramatic description but it truly was soul-destroying. It was like an anvil was dropped in our stomachs. A heavy weight slammed into our gut, dropping us to our knees.

The dogs began barking again and I understood what the quote meant.

"Hell is the impossibility of reason."

It was impossible. We had walked for hours and yet we were back in the worst possible place. Frayed nerves and broken hearts. It was just awful.

We were found by our friends moments later and extremely thankful we were. Any longer and it could have been Hell.

Hell is a place that God simply cannot be. A place devoid of all joy, of all things good. God is love and Hell is a place where there is none.

I am so glad that I know God and can call on Him.

Without Him that night would have been Hell.

"Let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you. For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favour as with a shield."
Psalm 5:11-12