You may have noticed by now that I love horror movies. I love the tension, I love the gore, I love the scares, I love the atmosphere... I love it all.
The problem is the after-effects. When a movie succeeds in actually scaring me, it tends to last for a while. Sometimes weeks.
The Grudge was one of the worst I've experienced. To this day, if I watch the movie (for the eleventyth time) or even just think about it too much, I have a hard time looking into dark corners for fear of seeing that white-dress-long-dark-hair shape. I can barely stand to go up the stairs, because the risers are open to the crawlspace beneath and I'm positive a small white hand is going to grab my ankle as I hurry up. It doesn't exactly help that my roommate's cats like to sit under there and stare out between the risers with their creepy reflective eyes. GAH.
The problem is, as much as I love these movies, I'm a total scardy-cat. I have a horrible habit of playing the “I wonder what I would do if...” game. This usually pops up at the most unexpected times: having a smoke on the porch (I wonder what I would do if a zombie came lurching around the corner); laying in bed about to fall asleep (I wonder what I would do if a voice suddenly said my name); brushing my teeth (I wonder what I would do if something walked behind me in the mirror).
I'm not sure if these thoughts are the result of being a horror movie addict, from starting my Stephen King obsession at the age of ten, or if they're simply the product of an overactive imagination. I'm guessing it's all of the above, with a strong dose of general insanity thrown in.
It's a good thing the heebies have become a way of life by now, because Insidious looks awesome, doesn't it?
I am also a lover of the horror genre. I have not seen Insidious, YET! (Am now going to have to make a point of it) But I can always remember when a horror movie or book really touched me *crawly skin*. The scene in the very first Nightmare on Elm Street where Freddie stretches the fabric of the wall and knocks the cross off the wall gave me the creeps and the monster in the closet from Cujo gave me irrational fears of my own closet. Oh yes, gone was the STUPID thoughts about things under the bed. LOL
ReplyDeleteThe Ring. Age 16 or 17. I even had a TV right next to my bed. Didn't sleep for a week...
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