Hello dear reader(s)!
The following story is fiction, but is based on a real event in my life.
I was young. Maybe around eight years old. I’m sure it was likely a holiday, probably Thanksgiving. My whole family was at my grandparent’s house in Merced, CA.
On the second night, my cousins, my older sister, and my older brother all decide it would be a good idea to rent horror movies and watch them in the living room while everyone slept. Wanting to prove how big I was, I decided I would watch too; against the advice of my older siblings.
Despite the fact that they were not yet old enough to rent R rated movies, my cousin and my sister walked to the video and returned with at least one horror movie. They might have had a few, but I only remember Hellraiser.
I had never before seen a horror movie. I had seen violent action movies, and plenty of other R rated flicks I probably wasn’t supposed to have seen, but never a horror movie up until that point. By this point in time, I was very aware of the differences between movies and real life, so I wasn’t really scared. Even though my cousin kept trying to scare me whenever I would say I wasn’t scared to watch, it wasn’t working.
After all of the adults were asleep, my brother and I emerged from my grandfather’s den with our pillows and blankets. We made our way out into the living room in front of the TV hutch where my sister was opening the doors. My cousin was making popcorn.
When she finished, we all made spots on the floor in front of the television, and she put in the movie.
I wasn’t scared when we watched it. I hid my eyes a couple of times because I thought it was gross, but not scary. To me, even at the time, I thought the effects were pretty cheesy. I did like Pinhead’s look, and thought that was well-done, but the rest of the movie just seemed utterly lame. There were a couple of startle moments, but the feel was too fake for me to really get into. I also remember forming my opinion during the movie that more blood was not equal to more scary.
I was proud of myself. To me, the only scary thing about that movie was that there were actually people out there who thought that sort of thing needed to be made. That creeped me out. It helped me to realize that people were far more terrifying than any supernatural thing ever would be. This is still an opinion I have. Even if demons and ghosts and all of that are real, I doubt they are as evil as the worst humanity has to offer.
There was one part that scared me a little. This scene, right here.
The hooks on chains shooting out and literally ripping someone apart seemed like an incredibly awful way to go. Even for Frank, who was kind of a bastard. I just couldn’t imagine what that must feel like, and how slowly they pulled him apart. What a terrible way to go. I guess I wouldn’t call it being scared, as much as just being glad that wouldn’t ever happen to me. Yes, I knew at the time that the part where it shows his faced all stretched out just before he was pulled apart was really bad effects. I knew that him talking just before the final rip was completely stupid. The rest of it looked pretty convincing though, and it left me a little unsettled.
After the movie, my cousins were disappointed that I wasn’t scared. My brother and sister seemed proud of me. I was proud of myself. My brother got up, and walked back into the den. I went to the bathroom first. After I got out of the bathroom, I walked into the living room to grab my pillow and blanket before heading back into the den. When I got out of the bathroom, the room was dark and everyone was trying to get to sleep. My grandparent’s house was bigger than I was used to, and I was a little disoriented. I used the light from the window to find my pillow and blanket and headed back to the den to sleep.
I walked toward the darkened hall. I opened a door, I thought would lead to the den. I found myself in a small pitch black room. And that is when I felt the first hook pierce my skin.
Okay, so all of that is true, but here is what really happened. When I went to go back to the den, I got a little turned around and walked into the closet by the front door. My grandpa’s fishing poles were in there. I felt one of the hooks from the poles hit my arm and screamed like a little baby. It didn’t even break the skin. Just poked me.
Guess I was a little more scared than I thought.