It was October 31st, and bitterly cold.

Daylight had long faded, and my two mates and I approached one of the pedestrian entrances to the grounds of Wollaton Hall at about 10pm. We weren't feeling the cold much, however, as we had several pints of beer inside us and were looking forward to the free alcohol at the party we were heading to.

"Look man," Mike, the taller of my mates, gestured towards the nearby opening in the high stone wall, "if we take a shortcut through the park, there'll be more drink left when we get there. The point of tonight is to get wasted yeah?"
I gave a brief shrug, and replied "Well I'm up for it, if Steve is..." I turned to Steve as he was already opening his mouth to respond.

"Yeah man, you know me. The sooner we get there, the better." I slapped him no the back and said "Well, whaddya know, and here I was thinking Steve was bitchslapped!"

Steve frowned at this, and replied "C'mon man, you know I got it sorted really"
We turned into the gateway, and I glanced up at the archaic iron portal. I couldn't help feeling a slight sense of foreboding, but it soon vanished. there were three of us, teenage lads, carrying nothing of value. We could either fight or laugh at any potential mugger, and the annoying little trick-or-treaters would probably be too scared or preoccupied to bother us. The park was poorly-lit but we could just follow the path.

About halfway between the gate and Wollaton Hall itself, Steve decided he needed the toilet. At about the same time, Mike discovered a can of beer in each of his coat pockets. He handed one to me and we cracked them open. After about half a minute, Mike turned round and chucked some beer at Steve. Steve yelled "Bastard!", finished his business then turned round and chased Mike. They were almost out of site from the path when Steve seemed to disappear below the ground, and shortly after gave a yell of "Fuck me, what the hell..."

I ran over and stopped just in time; there was a gaping hole in the ground, slightly longer than a tall man (about 8 feet) and not much wider than a man (about 3 or 4 feet). However, when Steve pulled himself up it was evident tht the height (depth) of the hole was about 7 foot. Mike and i lay down and each gave a hand in helping Steve up out of the hole, then we all stood for a minute. Mike was the first to speak "It looks like a grave to me, man."

"You would know, being a dirty geordie fucker" replied Steve.

"What do you think it is then Mr. knowitall?" said Mike

Steve just stared at the hole. I looked at both of them, and then the hole. Light was poor, so I couldn't make out much detail, but it did look as if the hole had been dug in layers somehow.