I got scared senseless at The York Dungeon and lived to tell the tale
Maybe avoid if you have a nervous disposition like me x
Christmas may be upon us but The York Dungeon is open all year round for those of you who need your scary fix. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not scary, either, because put it this way my hands were trembling from the start- and that was only after the toilets!
The dungeon is a York bucket list favourite, detailing 2000 years of the goriest history from our fave uni city. From witches to torture chambers, Vikings and even Dick Turpin himself, I screamed my way through the depths of the dungeon. All this to give you the low down on why you should gather your flat and spend a morning bonding over jump scares.
After some friendly Yorkshire banter at the front desk, we entered the dungeon and waited with fifteen other punters, noticing the children and taking a vow of no swearing. This was VERY difficult as we were already scared shitless.
Upon entering a chapel and being called ‘peasants’ by one of the actors (surprisingly fitting after a night on the Baileys) we were ushered into a Viking hut and made to watch a battle, decapitation and all. It was only after the floor began to shake under us, which I thought was a nice touch, that we delved into the plague room and smelt a stench worse than Salvos on a Saturday.
Lined up on benches and riddled with anxiety as the actor-come-plague victim jumped behind a bleeding mannequin, we watched as she slowly unearthed the symptoms of the disease –black lungs, boils and rotting entrails. It was as the lights suddenly darkened and she moved closer to us that my proudest moment came. With a flash, she appeared directly in front of me and I let out a scream so horrific it made her laugh. Flattered by my efforts, and revelling in her smiles as she tried to get back into character, we moved through the torture chamber and witch’s coven before getting on a carriage to meet the infamous Dick (Turpin).
Squeezed up close and personal with strangers who had managed to contain their screams for the whole duration, we embarked on a ‘moving’ (it jiggled…) carriage and were made to believe we were being hijacked by the King of hijackings, Dick Turpin. As the carriage doors flung open and I hyperventilated at the sight of him, it felt like I was truly taken prisoner by the man himself.
Jumpscares over, we made our final escape.
After leaving the £9 coffee cups for someone else in the gift shop, we finally made daylight. With my head over my shoulder after seeing too many Ellen scare mazes, I vowed never to return. The history lesson would’ve been great if I wasn’t screaming over everything they were saying x