Reading those books and staying up til the morn were such vivid memories for me. As frightening as they were, I was still swept up by a sense of nostalgia when I first saw the trailer for the film adaptation. I was optimistic, yet cautious... not because of my cynicism towards the Hollywood greed, but because of my fears of horrors and creeps.

You see, contrary to my resting bitch face and my laid-back style, I am actually a sensitive little shit who's afraid of her own shadow. And yet, as always, friends would find a way to drag me to the nearest ticket booth and tie me down into a theater seat. And as always, I must spend that sleepless night forcing my eyes shut with my bedroom lights switched on from my fears of cheap movie frights.

So last night, I sat in my seat looking up at the screen. I had a soda in one hand while the other trembled as it shielded my eyes. Relatively speaking, it was all okay... jump scares here, loud noises there. Nothing too traumatizing as of yet.

But then came a certain scene... a scene that scared and disturbed me far more than it should have. But it was not what was on screen that shocked me most, it was what it did to me.

Something inside me stirred and awakened... something sick and depraved... a fetish that should not exist...




Help me...