The face of evil

After last week’s post, I’m sure you can tell what affect the paranormal sometimes has on me. Things that “go bump” in the night send me scampering under the covers, quivering like a bowl of Jell-o.

Unfortunately, I’m a fan of horror movies, the scarier the better. When I was little (9), one Halloween night, I sat frozen in Daddy’s lap as I watched the undead attack a house in the cult classic, Night of the Living Dead.

Late that night, I felt it was my mission to protect myself and my parents from the ghouls lurking in the dark just outside the front door. Quiet as a mouse, I slipped out of bed, and grabbing a baton on the floor, crept into the inky blackness of the hallway. I made my way to the front door, and was reaching for the knob when it swung open. There, in the doorway, was the silhouette of a person, or what was pretending to be a person.

Screeching like a banshee, I took a step forward, and swinging with all the strength I had in my young arms, struck the beast with the baton. It let out a strangled cry, then collapsed like a broken puppet to the floor.

“What on earth?” Mama demanded, breezing past me toward the beast.

“Mama, don’t!” I cried. “It’s the face of evil!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “It’s your father,” she said, turning on the hall light.
I felt like I’d been on a roller coaster too long as I watched my daddy, flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water, clutching his wounded knee. The next morning he limped to the breakfast table and sternly announced my “horror movie watching” had ended for a while.

Now it's your turn. ;o) What was your funniest or scariest moment as a child?