I hate being scared
by Malische Oge
When October hits, it’s as if a switch goes off, the lights go out, and all that I know and love turns dark and eerie. I find myself avoiding more places, people and things because October equals Halloween, and that means that the fear fanatics, horror movie maniacs, haunted house groupies and others who thrive on scary thrills all come out to play — and try to drag me along with them.
I hate being scared. And while I usually love hanging out with my friends, come October, I try to steer clear of them. Apparently, being scared out of your mind is an enjoyable experience for some people. But I will not buy into the lies that my heart pounding out of my chest, while my hands sweat profusely and my throat hurts from excessive screaming, is fun, cool, exciting or any combination of the three.
Many of my friends say things like, “I can’t wait to see that movie where some masked character tortures people to death” or “I love when the creepy clowns carrying the knives chase me at [insert name of any haunted house here].” I wonder if they hear themselves when they make these statements. I refuse to be chased for fun.
If getting chased by a crazy person is frowned upon in real life, I am pretty sure that it shouldn’t suddenly be acceptable for Halloween purposes. I swear my friends are usually normal and sane people throughout the rest of the year. It’s just this month that they lose it.
During October, I try and look back on all the good times when they would suggest doing normal things like going to the mall, going out to dinner, or having a night out dancing. That’s how I keep strong and how I make it through all the madness. I just remind myself that it’s only 31 days. Only 31 days.
Honestly, I am in no way anti-Halloween. I can deal with the cute Halloween stuff like pumpkins, pretty leaves, bales of straw and the not-so-scary scarecrows. I even welcome them. The costumes and parties are awesome and Halloween candy is a brilliant tradition but, when things turn creepy, scary and intense, I am the first one to grab the candy and leave.
I learned a long time ago that sitting through an entire horror film is nearly impossible for me. I remember how I felt as a kid watching a horrible movie about evil bees that went around attacking and killing people. I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if they were coming for me. I’m sure that I cried at some point, and I was constantly screaming. That experience alone scarred me for life, and I’ve been traumatized ever since.
My “friends” — and I use that term loosely —had to drag me to the last scary flick that I saw: “Prom Night.” This movie came out a while ago and wasn’t even considered that scary or that good. But nonetheless, my eyes were covered for about 90 percent of it and the 10 percent of it that I did see were the just-as-scary previews that snuck up on me. The only relief that I got from the film was during the credits.
I find no happiness in fear. No smile comes to my face when a zombie’s emaciated head rolls to the ground. I do not get a surge of warm and fuzzy feelings when blood gushes out of a human body. And I certainly do not “ooh” and “aah” when a possessed and deformed girl starts crawling out of a TV set. I feel like that is pretty reasonable.
I think that the love of being scared and seeking a thrill is a contagious attitude that makes people say, “If others can make it through this, then I can too.” It’s all hype. My friends have all caught this sickness, but I, on the other hand, am not afraid to admit that I am a scaredy-cat and I cannot make it through it. Every year, October becomes a competition for my friends; they all try to be the first to drag me into their scary pastimes, but of course, no one ever wins.
To make a long story short, October plus Halloween equals me time. And it also means that those fear fanatics, horror movie maniacs and haunted house groupies can go on without me. They always seem to feel bad about leaving someone behind, but I tell them, “Don’t worry about me. I will be fine here with all the things that don’t make me cry.”
I wish them luck and the very best while I sit back sipping my warm pumpkin spice latte, all cozy next to a stuffed animal that doesn’t remind me of Chucky, and watching an endearing seasonal romantic comedy or a movie like “Monsters Inc.” that will actually allow me to sleep through the night without feeling as if something is hiding in my closet.
I love being afraid
by Deborah Yeargin
Halloween is one of my favorite times of year. In the midst of stress from midterms, the fall festivities always excite me. Halloween is a chance to have a spine-chilling and adrenaline-pumping time with friends that brings out the best part of this frightful season.
I delight in the excuse to try on costumes of every shape and style, and eat an extra piece of candy — or 10. I can enjoy a relaxing party with friends, a few treats and a classic scary movie. Sometimes, a blood-curdling scream makes the party unforgettable — in a good way.
While I do love the warm scents and delicious flavors of pumpkin and apple cider donuts, and I have fond memories of showing my pumpkin-carving masterpiece to the world after a day at the pumpkin patch with my family, those sentimental things aren’t my favorite part of the holiday.
The best part is when my friends and I pile into a car, find a haunted house and brace for a shockingly good time. As everyone waits in line, screams reach our ears from the distance. We pay the zombie at the cash register and enter.
My blood soon starts pumping and my heart races. My breath picks up and the anticipation builds, knowing that some terrifying creature I cannot see is lurking behind me in a dark corner. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and chills crawl across my body.
Boo! The loud ringing of a chainsaw or a haunting laugh echoes behind you. Someone or something darts across my path. One second there is emptiness, but the next, a gruesome head dangles before me or a mad scientist explodes from a secret hiding place. A scream escapes my lips, and I might try to run and hide. But, I cling to my friends and enjoy every moment, because the first scare of the season always leaves a lasting impression.
This thrill is rooted in things that spark our natural alarm system. Our internal wiring knows that we may not survive everything that exists. We allow ourselves to activate this instinct by being scared in a safe place.
A love for fear is created when we chose to stimulate our body’s biological and chemical processes. Though the fear itself may be alarming and intense, our body’s reaction to it is good. Survival is one of the human body’s natural instincts. It is intense adrenaline followed by a relief and rush of endorphins. A scream followed by laughter is a perfect example and that feeling of survival started for me when I was just a child.
When I was small, sneaking into my older sibling’s room to watch the greatest of the slasher films was a treat. Knowing that I should not be watching Jason Voorhees in “Friday the 13th” and Michael Meyers in “Halloween” was almost as exciting as the scare that would send me scrambling under the covers but still peeking out for more.
As I got older, scary movie night became tradition. Films like “Candyman,” “Village of the Damned” and “The Ring” were staples. I would call every friend I had and drag them to the movies or to my house for a sleepover. We made holding hands and clinging together part of the fun.
These moments taught me how to enjoy a good fright. They taught me how to be scared. They lead to my love of being scared and finding joy in the scariest haunted house in town. That moment of terror is electric. It reminds me that I’m alive, and that I’ve survived. Something about the lingering sensations and rush of endorphins that follow a scare is enthralling.
So thank you Freddy Kruger for teaching me to cover my eyes, scream at the top of my lungs and love a good fright.
