I became both fascinated with and terrified of the macabre back
at my family's creaky old lodge in the Ozark wilderness. My villainous older
cousins showed me the game Bloody Mary there once during our family's Christmas
party. The lodge was an imposing character by itself. It sat a couple of miles
off the highway down a narrow, nondescript gravel lane which opened up to a
quaint clearing in the middle of the woods. It was Bavarian in appearance and
unsettling anachronistic: a three-story tall gingerbread constructed of wood
and stone with a giant stone fireplace running up both floors. There was a pond
with a waterfall on the property; a half-mile up the lane was a small dam where
a foot-wide, fifteen-foot tall slab of concrete held back the dark, still waters
of a small lake. My cousins and I used to walk across that slab all the time,
unbeknownst to our parents. Falling one way meant certain death on the rocks
below. Falling another way seemed worse as we had no idea what lied in that mini
Sargasso. Even further up the ridge and deep into the woods was a large, hidden
lake. It was pristine and beautiful but we were too afraid to hike down to it
because coyotes and pumas were common in the area.
Inside the lodge's interior décor was dated and neglected.
The lamps were amber glass; the furniture was gold, olive, and 70s. The
atmosphere had that same sepia hue visible in all photos from this era. My aunt
and uncle were the property's caretakers; the lodge's owners were a group of
rich doctor friends who would stay there a few times throughout the year.
Otherwise, we had the run of it.
The lodge was a horror film setting waiting to happen. You
have to understand this to understand my horror film neurosis.
We had our holiday parties at this lodge and while our
parents drank, played pool, ate, and visited downstairs, my cousins and I would
climb the dark, narrow back stairs and play in the maze of bedrooms on the
second floor. During one Christmas party the girls dared the boys to go into
the bathroom and say "bloody Mary" three times with one of our folks' stolen
cigarette lighters. We were all too chicken except for one cousin who did it,
only if we all went into the bathroom together. After the third "bloody Mary"
we were spooked and convinced that all hell was after us. It didn't help that
the lodge was built like the
Also why I am simultaneously a fan of, and a total pansy
about, horror stories and films. (One time in elementary school, after a kid told
me a story about murderous teddy bears, I went home and blindfolded and tied
the wrists of all the stuffed animals in my room. Then I was afraid to untie
them because WHAT IF? They didn't have a motive before but THEY SURE DID NOW. I
really wish I was joking.)
Fast-forward to last night. We had just finished watching a
ridiculously stupid, yet still pretty freaky horror movie called "Dead Mary"
and headed to bed. Chris kept teasing me: like when I was brushing my teeth
he'd flick off the lights, poke his head in and whisper "BLOODY MARY." He thought it hysterical. When we climbed into bed, I
rolled over, turned off the glass lamp, rolled back towards Chris, and felt a
lump in the bed between us. Every synapse in my body simultaneously screamed
"FREAK OUT FREAK OUT EVERYBODY FREAK OUT!!" I flipped over, turned on the
light, and when I rolled over towards the lump I saw this looking at me:
Buhaha. Y'all remind me of Mr. Flinger and I. The teasing. The neurosis. The Elmo. Except it's not so much foreplay as it is a nightly game. Minus the sex. *sigh*
Too funny!
The expression on Elmo's face is perfect. It's like a cross between drooling zombie and petrified child. I had no idea that stuffed animals were so versatile in their expressions without hands-on manipulation.
When my husband and I were dating, he took me to see Psycho at our college's movie theater. I have to say that film is way scarier on the big screen, but I was doing just fine. Until he started telling me about the movie Candyman while we walked back to my dorm. My closet was the kind with the mirror door, and I was so freaked out that I made him stay the night to protect me from the psychotic killer in the mirror. Some of you may think this was the whole point of him telling me the scary story, but I assure you he most certainly did NOT get any that night.
The expression on Elmo's face is perfect. It's like a cross between drooling zombie and petrified child. I had no idea that stuffed animals were so versatile in their expressions without hands-on manipulation.
When my husband and I were dating, he took me to see Psycho at our college's movie theater. I have to say that film is way scarier on the big screen, but I was doing just fine. Until he started telling me about the movie Candyman while we walked back to my dorm. My closet was the kind with the mirror door, and I was so freaked out that I made him stay the night to protect me from the psychotic killer in the mirror. Some of you may think this was the whole point of him telling me the scary story, but I assure you he most certainly did NOT get any that night.
That made me laugh, and even though I love to be scared (when it's for pretend; not real-life scary life-threatening situations), I'd probably sock him too.
Men: they never grow up do they?:)
DO NOT see "Watcher in the Woods." Yes, it is a Disney film, but it is scary (or was when I was like 9). I'm still traumatized by a number of things because I accidentally saw Poltergeist when I was 5.
What Chris did you was so, so wrong! (LOL) I say if you had broke his nose, he'd totally deserve it. I wonder what your payback is going to be?
I can totally relate to blind-folding the teddy bears. When I was eight, a neighbor convinced me that there were possessed Cabbage Patch Kids. I had four of them, so they moved from my bed into the closet at night. I had to make sure the door was shut (this was after I covered them with a blanket or two) before I could go to bed.
I hate being scared. My girls love horror movies and I just can't understand the fascination.
No jury of your faint-hearted peers would have convicted you if you had busted his nose.
Don't forget ... there are Gollywoggles in your closet.
Oh yes there are.
Early in my marriage, my very tall large husband would walk very lightly up to me when I didn't know he was in the house, and make me shriek when I turned around and saw him. The joke was on him the time I had a blue gunk facial mask on and he creeped up behind my back. Turns out his greatest fear is women with facial masks on. Especially if they are bizarre colors. Heh. He hasn't done the sneaking up trick since the 80's.
What's with Elmo's "Oh" face?
THAT is scary.
So crazy! My husband was out of town this weekend and each night as I checked to make sure the doors were locked and the alarms were secure over and over, I kept seeing Elmo with my daughters toys and his dazed look FREAKED ME OUT! I had to turn him around. Oddly enough, Elmo looks scarier at night! Finding him in bed would definitely freak me out.
Ah, yes. Elmo and I know each other quite well. (http://mom-o-matic.blogspot.com/2007/03/elmoooooooh-and-other-pictures.html) He's not bad in the sack. A bit noisy though.