Month: April 2011

I was reading a post this morning about the episode of THE WALTONS called "The Changeling," which I personally don't remember but now want to see, badly. Seeing the name of the episode immediately took me back to a scene in the movie THE CHANGELING with GEORGE C. SCOTT that scared the pants off of me as a kid and still elicits creepy memories and an avoidance of dark stairways.

The scene is when GEORGE is sitting in the study reading and a red ball comes bouncing down the stairs in the foyer. Perplexed, he picks it up and looks toward the top of the stairs, which are dark and foreboding. He picks up the ball and drives to a bridge, tosses the ball into the river below and returns home. As soon as he gets back to the house and takes off his coat the red ball comes bouncing back down the stairs. I was frightened enough the first time the ball bounced down from some unseen force's hand, but when it happened a second time I was nearly pissing myself. The feeling of dread and the question of, "Would I dare go up there to see who tossed it?" stuck with me. Living at my grandparent's house at the time they had an old stairway that led to the basement, with open slats between the stairs. I had spent many days frightened that some monster was living under the stairs waiting to reach through and grab my feet as I walked down. After watching THE CHANGELING I now added the rubber ball fear to my stairway phobia.

The entire film is creepy and frightening; really one of my favorites. It's really well-made and worth a viewing if you haven't done so. I've watched it numerous times since childhood and still don't like seeing that red rubber ball, or any red ball I come across.

— David

Hello KinderTrauma!

I read the LITTLE NEMO: ADVENTURES IN SLUMBERLAND submission and have another Ray Bradbury kindertrauma: THE HALLOWEEN TREE (1993)!

I didn't find this movie in your archives, although if I missed it and it is, I apologize. I don't remember all that much about the movie (I only watched it once and was terrified) but the thing that I remember (which helped me Google and then Wikipedia it) was that there was a sick boy with freckles (Pip) who had a doppelganger pumpkin. I hated that pumpkin face. In the movie, Pip had to be rushed to the hospital on Halloween, but he appeared to his friends as a sort of ghost and they, thinking he was playing a prank on them, chased this apparition through some woods throughout the movie, and at some point, Ghost Pip acquired a pumpkin with his face.

After reading the description on Wikipedia, it's supposed to be a really nice film about the origins of Halloween. Too bad I could only think of SLEEPY HOLLOW and the pumpkin head and relate this film to that scary story.

— Celeste

Growing up in the early '80s could be very traumatizing. The threat of nuclear war and the Russians invading us RED DAWN-style kept me in a state of worry, but that worry was nothing compared to the possibility of going to hell! The threat of Satan seemed very real to me back in those days. My grandmother was very religious and the church we attended was filled with fire and brimstone sermons warning us against the satanic evils of rock music, especially the Devil's favorite conduit "Heavy Metal."

I was astounded to find out that my new stepdad loved rock music and owned an extensive collection of albums. I would spend hours looking through his albums and he would put on his favorites and I would enjoy them as much as a kid destined for hell could. The artwork of Black Sabbath's debut album was nearly as traumatizing as the music. I can still see a woman with a yellowish pallor dressed in black standing near some trees and a pond in front of a very dilapidated medieval looking house. This scared that crap out of me! She had to be a witch or some succubus with ill intentions. All the songs were either about the running away from the devil or being the devil's chosen bride or about scary wizards walking by. This was as enticing as it was scary.

By the time my small town got MTV and a decent record store it seemed like the satanic panic was in full swing. I would keep my fingers at the ready to change the cable box to Nickelodeon as I waited for "Looks that Kill" by Motley Crue of "Flight of Icarus" by Iron Maiden to come on. I would have to wait through hours of Men at Work and Pat Benatar videos, but eventually I would be thrilled at the sight of "Bark at the Moon" and it would all be worthwhile.

In the age of digital downloads, album cover art has taken a back seat. I would sneak around the rock section of my local record store and freak out while looking at Iron Maiden covers and their skeletal mascot "Eddie." "Holy Diver" by Dio was particularly troublesome. I felt that if I were to pick up the album and hold it, the earth would crack open and I would be pulled to hell right in the middle of Kmart. The scarier the album cover was the more I wanted to hear the music.

A funny thing happened as I began to listen to more metal music. I realized that it wasn't a gateway to hell; rather it was a gateway to all sorts of subjects that would fascinate me all the more. It would have taken me several more years to discover Frank Herbert and Dune if it wasn't for Iron Maiden. I would have missed out on Stephen King's short stories if it wasn't for Anthrax. Heavy Metal wasn't about wearing your sunglasses at night or feeling the rhythm of the night, it was about life and death, and good and evil.

By the time it was 1987 and I was 13 years old a new brand strain of harder and scarier heavy metal arrived on the scene. "Reign in Blood" by Slayer made any output by Dio and Motley Crue seem silly and juvenile. Metallica and Megadeth touched on the evils of war and drug addiction. This more tangible and realistic metal stripped away the hokey mysticism and faux Satanism.

The Satanic Panic of the ‘80s finally reached its apex with a much-ballyhooed Geraldo Rivera special on Satanism in 1987. It was the talk of the school the next day. I imagine every town claimed to be the secret satanic capital of the United States much like mine supposedly was. Every pentagram on a school notebook and jean jacket was taken very seriously by the faculty of my school. Listening to metal was an act of rebellion and feeling rebellious was awesome and dangerous. It all looks so silly today, but it touched a primal chord of fear and excitement in me and many of my friends.