Personal Reflective As the violins screeched and the music intensified the tension grew. Icould feel my arms being squeezed tighter and tighter by the second, so tight I felt like the circulation would cut off. Worse was still yet to come, but he didn’t know that... Despite his limp he moved rapidly across the bedroom; his wife and little boy were trapped in the bathroom scared for their lives. He was going to kill them. ‘Here’s Johnnyyyy’. My friend almost nearly jumped out of his seat in terror; as if he actually thought Jack Nicholson was coming for him. Usually any normal person would comfort a friend in times like these but for me, hysterically, I just laughed. Why did I laugh? Because I absolutely love horror films. The reason for this is unanswered. I could not explain to anyone, even in the littlest of detail why these films interest me. Maybe it’s where I live? A beautiful traditional village beneath the mountain ranges of the Scottish Highlands; a place that would be more considered as romantic and not a place of horror or creepy happenings. So if it’s not where I live maybe it’s because of my parents? My parents are not psychotic, they are not on drugs, they don’t over indulge and they don’t even have a parking fine between them. They are simply just normal, so it can’t be that. The first scary movie I ever watched was “The Woman In Black”. I remember making a fuss to watch it, not because I wanted to watch it; but precisely because I didn’t want to watch it. Someone made me watch it and now I would like to thank them for it. To be quite honest when I watched it was completely and utterly terrified. Something about the old fashioned setting and music gave me the shivers. The sinister lullaby quietly echoed, getting deeper and deeper as the tension grew. At that point my heart pounded out of my chest; fear had struck. I wanted to leave immediately but I didn’t want to lose face with the people I was with. Strangely a part of me wanted to stay; I was eager to see it through. That night, it hit me. I was getting odd visions of a woman with no face, in black standing in the corner of my room. Was she real? No, of course not. It was all in my head and that was the turning point. At any moment I could choose to repeat that feeling of fear over and over again. It is not like other thrill seeking activities, like skydiving, where you do it once and immediately the ecstatic feeling is lost. For me, I prefer the buzz of being able to conjure up my thoughts and let myself imagine unlikely scenarios in every situation I find myself in. For example at night I hear Freddy Kruger clicking his claws each finger one at a time or maybe it is Norman Bates pulling back the shower curtain. In reality of course it’s just the clock ticking or mum coming out of the bathroom. My friends struggle to share my enthusiasm for horror, and simply decline my invitations to watch these types of films. This affects my social life, horrifically. Let me tell you, nobody, and I mean nobody will come for a sleepover for fear of me making them watch a scary movie. It could even be “Ghostbusters”, the least scary film on the planet. I mean, come on some even get the chills at “Coraline”! It goes to the extent that even if I am invited to their houses, it is like going through airport security with the amount of bag checks and questions to prove I didn’t sneak in any horror films.