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A humorous guest post by Lisa Mannetti at Wag the Fox
On the surface, things that terrify everyone else terrify me. For example, when I first read Bram Stoker’s Dracula, I slept with the lights on for about a week. The Exorcist scared me badly enough, that I slept with the lights on all night for a month—maybe it was longer. It was hard not to be afraid during that movie—the nuns were always telling us that St. John Bosco was tormented by the devil and levitated, and I just figured if it happened to a saint and a twelve year old, what chance did I have to escape that ugly fate? None.
Similarly, when I was a kid, I used to convince myself that the Mummy was actually foot-dragging right down my driveway, headed (for reasons known only to Karloff) for our front porch—since I heard him starting toward the house from the back lawn, I’m not sure why he didn’t want to crash the kitchen door, but perhaps there were too many stairs for a five thousand year old disgraced prince. Or maybe he suspected my mother kept the tanna leaves in an urn on top of the mantel or something....
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