In my community, its celebrated as if Costco’s Halloween aisle threw up on everyone’s front lawn. I’m talking blow up witches, and graveyards that are akin to the real thing. Characteristic to a Vincent Price Playground, decorating can get a little keep up with the Jones’ if you know what I mean.
Every year, just a few blocks from my house three or so neighbors put together an incredible show. Adjoining, all of their homes, to become one huge Haunted House. It’s an incredible spectacle; these crazed Halloweener’s get absurd with decorations. As well wear costumes that rival characters on The Walking Dead, in fact, it has become so enormous they started accepting donations to be able to afford the costs of up-keeping it. So, for just a small donation, you can walk through someone’s back yard and have the complete shit scared out of you.
What could be more fun than paying to be scared shitless?
Everything! Every-damn-thing is more fun than having ANYTHING jump out at you when you are least expecting it, or, to be honest, even when you are expecting it.
I loathe being terrified. Not the type of scared that’s exhilarating like a roller coaster, I’m talking full-blown panic attack, don’t jump out at me, or I will punch you in the throat, frightened.
I do not react well to surprises of any sort, attacking jugular’s and screaming at times just because I didn’t hear someone come up from behind me. Seriously, I have almost ninja chopped a small child in the face for stepping up behind me simply because I didn’t hear them.
This year, as Halloween draws closer; I started to realize I have some fairly peculiar and irrational fears. In which I like to blame on my vivid imagination.
Let’s begin with my ridiculous (completely sane) fear of odd-looking houses on the side of dark country roads. First and foremost, there will never be a good enough reason for me to-go-a-knockin’ on some door, attached to a dilapidated house with a long and convoluted driveway.
And If the creepy-ass house has two or more abandoned cars on the property, I’m pretty sure people die there, actually I’m convinced of it. Where in the hell do you think those cars came from people? That’s right, it was the idiot’s car that stopped on the side of the road to get help from some Ed Gein looking motherfucker, who is longing to wear their face as a mask. We’ve all seen Texas Chain Saw Massacre; you don’t go near the ominous house on the side of the road. It doesn’t end well.
Along with my fear of rundown farmhouses, I unquestionably despise the dark. Dark rooms, dark streets, all darkness, it doesn’t matter, if it’s too dark to see, it scares the hell out of me.
Now, this may have something to do with my creative imagination, but I’d like to think it’s because it’s PITCH DARK! And not being able to see what is in front of me is terrifying. I blame this darkness fear on what appears to be the fact that my eyes possess incredible super powers. Enabling them to turn shadows into gruesome and murderess objects. These same objects that may very well whisper my name in the dead of the night.
This fear whether irrational or not, has me running up my stairs every night, to this day, after turning off all the lights in my house. Which can be a difficult action to explain to your two teenagers as they watch you sprint from the darkness of downstairs to your well-lit bedroom.
It doesn’t stop there, anything that requires my mind to work overtime, has me running in a different direction.
Fake Haunted Houses are by no means a necessity in my life and yep you got it; I am deathly afraid of them also. Okay, it’s not that I don’t know they are fake, of course I do. That’s not the point, add my fear of creepy houses, the dark, and the element of surprise, and I turn into a panic attack waiting to happen. In no way is it necessary to put oneself purposefully through the extreme sensation of surprise. Not only surprise but the anticipation of surprise, which I believe causes so much more anxiety. For me, it’s like waiting to be struck by lightning. For. Ten. Minutes!
The first and last time I went through one of those set up haunted houses, I was almost in tears by the end. Scurrying through the corridors like a rat, pushing my way past anyone I could, just to make it stop. In turn, I had more people panicking that the place was on fire than enjoying their one hundred-dollar ticket to Hell-Night.
Which brings me to my final Halloween induced fear. Horror Movies based on actual events. To this day, I cannot watch Texas Chain Saw Massacre. I did watch it, once, I didn’t sleep for a week, and I’m not exaggerating, the nightmares were demented.
Come on now guys!
They based this movie (loosely) on actual events!
So, I am supposed to be okay with watching a crazy fucking guy, run around a farm with a chainsaw, shredding unsuspecting teenagers, and be cool with it? Hell to the fucking no, I am not going to be okay with that, not now, not ever.
Leather-face, the chainsaw-wielding character who is (loosely) based on Ed Gein was caught with nine masks made from Human skin when he was arrested! Umm, that happened people, that person really exists! I have too big of an imagination for these Horror movies. The fact that some of these are based on real-life scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I don’t need that kind of stress.
There you have it, my irrational fears. The truth is, I can get through the crazed dread, it’s not as if I have ever felt debilitated by any of these fears. They are often just absolutely hilarious for anyone that knows me well and has had to endure any of these moments with me. But please do me a favor, do not stop on a country road, knock on some farmhouse door looking for help. I won’t be coming to help.
Happy Halloween to you all, you will find me giving out the candy in a cute costume, to the adorable little children. With maybe one or two scary skeletons by my door and don’t worry I don’t take my eyes off them, for fear they too may whisper my name in the dead of night!