This month of October viewing horror movie reruns…I find myself with one recurring horrific thought: I believe monsters have social issues that only people can relate to. Spooky, huh?
It’s a scream!
Especially when nonhumans just don’t have the words. Just the rage, the motions, the anger. Sound like anyone you know? Or maybe someone you’d rather not get to know? Or someone who just wasn’t socialized enough early on and can’t play well with others. They replace share with “scare” in their frustrations.
“Strangers” more than strange. Lurking in the shadows. Hiding because they look hideous. But most of them could care less. That’s probably what I love most about such creatures. They can be brutally honest and get away with it. Rerun after rerun.
Perhaps that’s one of the attractions for us monster admirers. Monsters are nonconformists. They endear us with their worst traits. Warts, scars, deformities and all. We can’t bear to see such in ourselves…but can’t help but be mesmerized by a monster turned inside out. A grotesque curiousity that evokes a rushing gamut of emotions from us—disgust, fear, pity,panic,compassion. So ugly they are almost beautiful for facing what others dare not. But is there ever really an escape?
They mirror the parts of us that we secretly won’t unmask. Nor dare we make direct eye contact? Or shake their claw. Or willingly offer our necks.So here we sit as humans in pitch theaters, bedrooms and behind steering wheels with the invisible. Awaiting the thrill of being scared of the dark only to feel more alive. Maybe less alone. Always searching like zombies.— Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, you and me. Haunted with bonding indifference. Between Heaven and Hell are any of us ever truly of this world?
(pause and whisper)—- “BOO!”
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