Those who know me, a rare few, know the kind of things I like. Those who vaguely know me know that apart from Disney, cats and theme parks I also love horror. Love it. Especially those spine chillers that start with ‘based on true events’. Oooh, spoopy.
I love reading about haunted mansions and items, scary places and scary things. Give me CreepsMcPasta alongside Thingamavlogs, Jackson Galaxy and Playstation Access and I’m happy. I’ll toil away the night hours writing more chapters in my book, deleting whole paragraphs and having the cats write whole other segments in welsh in their determination to sit on my lap, listening to scary stories about ghosts, demons, game bosses and SCPs. Oh, and Leo, Sarah and the gang discussing the latest Disney themed week.
While I was recently on call, I was watching YouTube and an ad popped up to annoy me, for Annabelle 2. I was not impressed. Not least because it interrupted my viewing pleasure, but also because the film was crap. Sorry, but it was. Ever see the real Annabelle? She is scary as hell. And I had a Raggedy Ann and Andy film growing up, yet even I developed a horrified fear of her. Yet they felt the need to make her ‘look’ scary. No need. Leave her alone, with her button eyes and fixed smile, seemingly holding all the demons of the underworld inside behind a tiny cherry lipped smile.
Watch the films of her moving about in her case. Look at the photos of her leaving hand prints inside the glass. Watch the interviews with people who woke up to her trying to crawl up them as they slept. To hell with scary films, just watch reality, which features some of the worst demons ever. (Shameless plug for my lack of faith in humanity). It wouldn’t be so bad but I saw one of those low budget movies for sale, those ones that are a 50/50 gamble when you buy them, called Robert.
It appears to be based on the haunted doll of the same name, a doll that you must ask it’s permission to take its photo or film it. It’s one of those old school apple looking dolls in a little sailor suit, apparently made by a slave for the plantation masters son. Everyone who has offended Robert, or taken his photo without permission, have met with horrible accidents. It’s a freaky enough looking thing anyway, with it’s own little doll (how meta!) yet for some reason it’s been given The Annabelle Treatment. Yep, they’ve tried to make it look scarier. Don’t, leave it alone, he’s scary enough!
If a film doesn’t leave me scared to leave the cinema or worried about what might be under my bed then I’m not impressed. The last time I had that it was when I saw Silent Hill. I know, you purist fans of the game hated it, and I understand why, but the game scared the shit out of me. I borrowed an old boyfriends copy years ago, played for 20 minutes and put it down. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t force myself to be scared and play this game. But I could watch the film, because I didn’t have to do anything. I had no job but to let my eyeballs absorb it while I dropped popcorn down myself. Easy.
Until I got home.
My house at the time was next to a field, which I discovered, that night, contained Monkjack deer. I was trying to have a cigarette outside, hoping Colin wouldn’t drag his tangled backside under the fence when I heard it.
Did you know that at 2am, in the dark, on your own, Monkjack deer sound incredibly similar to the Ash Children from the movie? I didn’t, but I very quickly found this out.
I don’t like wasting things, but that half-smoked fag went over the fence and was upstairs and under my covers before I could breathe out the last lungful of smoke.
I love horror movies, I am one of those millions of people who pay to be scared, but that’s the thing about fear, it’s rather nice to visit it, but you wouldn’t want to live there. Much like Maidstone, or New York. Or anywhere in France.