Many years ago,
when the summers lasted years and the kids actually spent time outdoors I felt
for the first time the ghostly chill of the horror genre. Like most nine year
olds of that era, I divided my time between playing knock and run, and
pretending to understand the rude jokes the older kids told me. In the eighties
you could literally wait for years before you got to hear about a particular
film let alone watch it, on your mates uncle’s VHS player! This was the case with
Nightmare on Elm Street as it was sometime after its 1984 release that it
scraped its razor sharp claws down my spine. Of course, it was one of the older
kids in our ‘gang’ that began to preach the religion of Freddy (possibly after
a joke about pubes) and I was instantly excited and terrified in equal measure.
“Three
Four better lock your door.”
Now this older
kid (we’ll call him Mark) was a bit spoilt and so he of course had actually
seen nightmare on Elm Street. By spoilt I mean he had a green screen for his
Amstrad computer, and a life sized cardboard cut out of Sylvester Stallone in
Cobra. Of course I had felt the shivery tickle of fear before, but this was my
first taste if horror as a subject in its own right. Mark began outlining the
films plot to the gang, but when he noticed my eyes were now three times the
normal size, he focused all his craft of storytelling on me. Like the
proverbial rabbit in the headlights I was a goner.
“Five,
six, grab your crucifix.”
By the time Mark
had told me that Freddy Kruger kills his victims in nightmares and they stay
dead, I had decided that I would quit sleeping for good. The other older lads
in the gang had obviously seen the fear in my eyes, and jumped on the
bandwagon/bloodbus. Only Mark had seen the film, yet I was now being convinced
by all that Mr Kruger (as I would politely address him while groveling to be
spared) would be waiting for me at bedtime. The way in which people over-react
with anger towards such films always makes me feel as though horror is the
Marmite of movie genres. If this is true, then this is the moment I had my
first bite. It tasted GOOD.
“Seven,
Eight, gonna stay up late.”
Bear in mind I
was at an age where I genuinely thought I was about to be disemboweled by some
guy in a crap jumper, and yet I was still fascinated. In fact I was excited.
I’d never heard a story like this. The possibilities were endless, even after
death! Of course the moment the light went out at bedtime, my emotions were
pure ice like fear and I stifled sobs at the sudden range of shadows and shapes
in my pitch-black bedroom. However, one I had survived the night, I was excited
all over again and couldn’t wait to talk about the film I hadn’t even watched.
Once Mark had seen there was no more fun to be had in scaring me, he suggested
playing football, but my heard wasn’t in it. Kruger held it, still beating, in
his burnt hand. So the older kids played football, and me, and the younger lot
chased each other in the nearby woods, shrieking like banshees. We would take
it in turns being Freddy in our grisly version of hide and seek.
“Nine,
Ten never sleep again!”
That summer had
presented a crossroads for future tastes, and I had rushed headlong down Elm
Street. Funnily enough, and going back to an earlier point, it was years after
this that I actually watched the film! Luckily I wasn’t disappointed. I have
been attracted to all things horror ever since to try and capture those moments
of fear that make me feel like a child again. So when I wake in the night and
pass a mirror on my way to the bathroom, I look straight into it and kind of
hope I see something pass behind me. Now I embrace the fear, and hold its cold body
next to mine. I like to think that the nine year old me would have been happy
about that.
ADAM
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