On things little, dead, and scary

You've been a good reader. Dare I say you've been a great reader. Naw, I won't say that because you've failed to leave comments. I suppose I don't blame you, I did leave you for a week or so with no explanation.

But in honor of how good of a reader you have been, I think you deserve a story. This is a scary story. This is a true story. You may have heard it before. But that doesn't matter. It is my story, I experienced it... and it scared the hell out of me.

First. Click and watch this. (it's really short)



.... submitted for the approval of the midnight society, I call this story

The tale of the little dead girl who scared the shit out of me

For whatever reason it’s stapled to the framework of society. When a man has a girlfriend, its pretty much understood that if you go to a scary movie with her, the man should be somewhat comforting and a ready subscriber to the whole “I’ll protect you” deal. That way, ideally, she could curl up in your strong arms and she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Great tactic and time-honored tradition in chivalry.

I’m usually not scared of movies. When I’m looking back at Jason hunting me with malicious intent, I’ll be pretty afraid. When I’m watching it, not so much. I don’t know why, maybe because I know whats going on. It’s pretty simple… guy, knife, death.

So in highschool my girlfriend and I went to see The Ring. When I walked in, I’m thinking, “scary movies don’t scare me”.
By the time I got home, I had to ask my dad not to go to sleep, because clearly if I was alone, a little dead girl would crawl out of the screen and kill me in mysterious face-melting ways.

…
It was really kind of nice, in the theater. I had a good thing going on to cope with what I was watching on the HUGE SCREEN in front of me. One of my favorite techniques that I employed was pretty lucrative.

Blur your eyes
look at the bottom of the screen.
Also, stick your finger in your ear to limit as many sensory perceptions as possible, making sure to use the hand opposite your girlfriend, so as to be able to uphold the highly praised tradition chivalry

I don’t know what it is about little dead girls. That’s what it is that’s so scary about them. I just don’t know! Jason coming at me, simple. Little girl, stringy black hair, white as printer paper, not simple. Very crazy, very scary, and I’m not even going to mention the part in the very beginning of the movie, when the girl gets severely messed with by this mind-freak of a little dead girl. Making TVs go to snow and scary little voices call your phone. But then when she walks upstairs, and the door opens… and it zooms into her face. Oh man.



If you’ve seen the movie, I find it very hard to believe you aren’t just as frightened as I am when you think about it.

A while goes by and I rent the DVD; mostly because I wanted to see this movie that had scared me so much. Clearly the HUGE screen was so large that I just thought I was in the movie or something similar. I couldn’t understand the whole idea of, “it’s just a movie, nothings coming to get you” because of the big screen. On my tv, no problem, right?

Wrong. I couldn’t even get passed the main menu. No joke, on the menu there were these really scary options, and one was called “the film”. When you went over it, it started freaking out and skipping little parts of the movie that kills people. I didn’t have time to watch the movie right now, but I could watch “the film”.

So I pressed it, middle of the day, in a room with open windows and open doors flooded with sunlight. I had to mute it. And I didn’t watch the whole thing.

This is how scared I am of little dead girls.


It’s a while later, I only think about little dead girls when it’s really foggy and I’m driving home alone at night. Then I just listen to music or something, get her stringy hair out of my mind.

It happens to be one of those foggy nights, not really foggy, but just enough to hit a fog wisp or two on an open road.



I’m driving one of my friends back to his house, hes a little drunk, I only had a beer because I had PSATs the next morning and needed to be on top of my game and up on time real early for a Saturday morning.

He has the passenger side window open, though, to air out his whole drunken situation. I drop him off and make my way home. I’m going the quickest route, back behind the highschool next to the big rocks and the road that has a pretty sharp turn to the right and then to the left again.

I’m driving past the rocks, I’ve got my highbeams on because nobody else is going to be on the road and I just felt like checking out the fog in the headlights.
I turn to the right, then to the left.

And right in my lights, in the middle of the street behind the highschool in the fog is a little dead girl.




I don’t know shes dead, I don’t know what she is. She is standing there though barefooted and blindingly white from her exposed skin in the headlights.

I’m absolutely stunned, car stopped and rolling forward slowly. I can’t really be seeing this. Shes looking down with stringy black hair infront of her face, and shes’s stumbling back and forth. Her legs are bare and pale white from her feet to some white clothing. I could barely get a look at it I was so completely terrified.

This girl wasn’t getting any less real and I was getting very close to her. At this point I’m pretty much in shock, just trying to understand what is happening in front of me. Who is this girl, what is this, why am I still alive.

She all of a sudden notices the car and drops onto the hood near the passenger side. I can feel her dead body fall onto the hood of the car as she clambers up to the window.

At this point, I recognize the girl and get a taste of a world that doesn’t harbor little dead girls. I recognize her as a freshman in my highschool. But just a taste, as my present reality still contains a scary creature that does nothing but fit the description of my worst nightmare.

She CRAWLS in the window of the car, with me pressed against the driver side window like I’m trying to pop a water balloon with my back, her leg and bare feet swing up over her head and press all the buttons on my radio and spin the volume knob.

In my frightened state, in which I just came as close as a teenager could possibly come to having a heart attack, suddenly I find myself listening to ear piercing loud static, snow, on the AM radio. Snow! A little dead girl’s weapon of choice.

It was weird that I was somewhat relieved to see her puke out the side of my car and onto the door. I felt like the survivors of Jurassic park flying back home in that helicopter.

I stepped out of the car and called my mom. And went over to see how the girl was doing on the other side. Pretty much what I expected, she tried to say sorry for puking on the outside of the door, but ended up trying to wipe it up with her already bile-saturated sweatshirt sleeves. She ended up falling out of the window into the pile of a freshly evacuated stomach.

It was so odd that I was able to look at a balled up girl on the road in a pile of puke beside my car and actually feel relieved.

Little dead girls are still my worst nightmare.