Horror is calling me home. There's more than Halloween to it. This temptation of mine has been begging to be unleashed for years, and while from time to time I have given in to the sweet desire, the ideas have been ridiculous. A man shredding his own skin off in one world, while in our own, it seems as though he is having a mere heart attack - pUHleeeease. Simply put, it is full of stuff I would not want to read, and that is already a heavy-negative.
Horror is very precious to me. I grew up with it. My aunts forced me to watch it. I didn't want to, at first. They played Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and I watched it straight through; even watched it without my family. The film version of Children of the Corn made me cringe, only because I like ice cream so much, and the thought of someone losing a body part in an ice cream shop disheartens my appetite for the creamy delicacy.
But I got over it. And I still love ice cream.
