| THE ANATOMY OF FEAR (cont.) Tim Curran |
| Regardless, these archetypes were handed down as folktale to eventually become fairy tale proper. That’s where we got them. It doesn’t matter to us, really, where they came from. We simply make good use of them. And they, as I said, are generally our first exposure to real horror--old witches baked in ovens (Hansel and Grethel), evil stepmothers wanting to devour the bloody hearts of their daughters (Snow White), and lurid serial murder (Bluebeard)--and, with some of us, they make a lasting impression. They instill in us that almost instinctive love of grue and it’s something we horror writers never outgrow. Sure, we know that Little Red-cap is intended as an instructional tale (be wary of strangers), but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the morbid aspects of such an offering. Of course, for us would-be horror writers, fairy tales are just the beginning. The foundation upon which we can begin building our houses of dread. But we don’t do it alone. We become sponges and when it comes to horror, the basin is full. Thanks to other children and, yes, adults. The best example of this is strangers. Beware of strangers. Don’t take candy from strangers. Don’t talk to strangers. Dear God, don’t ride with strangers. And with this, it has already been instilled in us that “strangers” are not like us. They are a separate race of creatures, evil and nameless, always hungry for the flesh and souls of the innocent. They haunt lonely places, tempt with sweets, carry silver-bladed knives, drive shiny black cars. And according to my childhood friends, they smell like wet straw and have worms in their mouths. I’m not really sure why. Regardless, they are alien. A race of monsters who exist only to torment the young, to bring suffering and death. This particular seed of dread reaches its fullest blossom in the form of the boogeyman or The Boogeyman (for in my childhood, his name was a proper noun). The boogeyman, of course, is the foreboding King of Strangers, Lord of All Places Dark and Dangerous. Other children instruct us about him, but so do adults. My dad, whenever we went out at night, would tell us, “Don’t let the boogeyman get you.” Just a little joke from parent to child, but in a child’s mind this equates as: THE BOOGEYMAN CAN GET YOU WHENEVER HE WANTS, SO BE CAREFUL. Don’t let the boogeyman get you. He lurks in lonely places. Woods. Alleys. Old houses. Empty fields. Drainage ditches. He is a monster, a killer. He is ghoul and psychopath, vampire and werewolf, hungry ghost and creeping nameless thing. But worst of all, HE IS A STRANGER. And me? Was I afraid of the boogeyman? God, yes, I was. Terrified. For you see, I knew all about the boogeyman. A girl in my neighborhood told me all about him. He wore a flapping black coat and his eyes were red like blood, his skin white as cream. He had tenpenny nails for teeth and grappling hooks for fingers. He only came out at night and he ate kids. He was especially active when the heavy fog rolled in off the lake (a usual occurrence in our town in the Autumn and early Spring). You could hear him singing at night and his voice was the wind blowing through black trees and abandoned fields. There was an old man in our neighborhood. He lived in an old house that bordered a stand of dark woods that led out to the lake. He would leer from his window if we strayed on his lawn. He had big bulging eyes and gray lips. He wasn’t just some crabby old man that was sick and tired of the neighborhood brats stealing his apples and cutting across his yard, oh no, he was the boogeyman. We all knew this. My childhood memories tell me he shunned sunlight and dwelled in utter darkness. That he lurked in the shadows waiting for some dumb kid to wander too close and then...well, you know what happens then. Or do you? As an adult I know the boogeyman was a cautionary tale, a parable about strangers and the dark candy they offered. I know they weren’t monsters. I know they were child molesters and murderers…but what they do is no less terrifying. Maybe it’s worse. Article - Page 3 |