re: Scariest thing I ever saw as a child.

watched Carrie on network TV in 1978. I missed school the next day.

Yo mama.

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Boris Karloff flick, Black Sabbath

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Slippy, I have been trying to think of the name of this movie for 20 years. Watched it way back when and had to sleep with the lights on for a week.

Around 8 or 9 my best friend and I found a guy in the back of our neighborhood who had hanged hinself with barbed wire. We were the first to find him, it was pretty fricked up

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hen I was 10-11 years old. The next door neighbor's daughter, who just graduated HS, shot herself. Her parents were on vacation, she had a friend staying over. Me and my dad were outside, girl comes running across the yard yelling "she shot herself! she shot herself!" and was in complete panic mode.

Went with my dad to the house and before he told me to get out, I saw her slumped over the arm of the chair, lifeless, with blood coming out the side of her head.

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Sounds like the beginning to a lot of Seventies and Eighties horror flicks.

This show:



Especially when it was about ghosts, like the Queen Mary ship.

What’s creepy about North By Northwest? Even for a kid?

When I was around 4, my parents made my brother and sister take me to a movie. I think they just wanted the kids out of the house for a few hours

Anyway, we saw a movie about a weirdo who worked at a circus and like to set fire to all kinds of stuff. Freaked me out.

We called him Mr. Hungry.



In the very back of the woods where on my grandparents property there was a thicket. Deep and dark and overgrown, with heavy woods all around, too thick to venture in to. Always dark, so clustered and shaded that you couldn't see far into it at much at all.
That was where Mr. Hungry lived.

We'd bring all the carcasses there. Rabbits, squirrels, fish, anything that bled. It was always the kids job to bring the entrails there, a long walk through a wooded corridor, back to the thicket...the thicket where Mr. Hungry dwelt, always watching, and always, always hungry.

That trek, eerily quiet when you reached it, it seemed. Like the birds would quit chirping there, and all you would hear is the wind...the wind, and the faintest whisper of utter silence, and that feeling of hidden eyes crawling over your skin.

So many times we'd bring the bloodstained bucket of steaming guts and skin and fur and bones and heads.
You'd walk slow there, eyes darting to and fro, watching for movement in the woods. And sometimes, sometimes you'd swear you'd see catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye, some darting shadow moving swift just outside of your field of vision, and always when you'd turn towards it...nothing. Nothing but the feeling that you were not alone.

It was always better to feed Mr. Hungry with someone else. A sibling, a friend, a cousin. It made the walk easier, and the mad dash for home right after you threw the foul mix into the thicket a breathless race, almost fun.
But sometimes, you had to go alone. Alone to that place where there were never any bones or skulls left from previous visits..And you would swear, when the wind died, that you could hear the faintest whisper of heavy breath. Heavy, hot, and always so very, very, hungry.

But we made damn sure that there was something to bring when we visited, because if he didn't get fed...well, he might start looking. And maybe he'd leave that foul place where the brambles grew close as kin and ground was always wet, and if he did, he might be hungry for something...fresher.

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Zelda in the movie Pet Cemetery

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Saw a lady the other day that reminded me of her.