I recently went on a mini-vacation at Beaver’s Bend Resort Park in Broken Bow, Olka., which made me realize that I spend way too much time watching movies of a somewhat scary nature.

Why, you may ask, did Beaver’s Bend bring up this realization?

Simple. The cabin we found ourselves in reminded me strongly of Camp Crystal Lake, you know, from the Friday the 13th movies.

When we opened the door of our quite quaint and cozy cabin, the first thing I noticed was the locks, or lack thereof. These locks would barely keep out the raccoons, let alone a dead/undead serial killer on a murderous revenge-induced rampage.

Five minutes after walking through the door I was already planning escape routes like climbing out the windows in the kitchen should the “fiend” batter down the door with an ax or machete, or hiding under the bed long enough for “him” to go past before darting out the door into the dark, dense woods.

Sitting outside, next to a roaring fire in the dead of night, listening to the tiny crackles coming from the woods brought to mind The Blair Witch Project.

Now this movie may not have been as scary or gory as some others I’ve seen, but it gets into your head, which is the worst thing for me as my imagination is constantly running away from me like the gingerbread man.

I was imagining all sorts of nightmarish creatures creeping up behind me to drag me deep into the woods where they could devour me without restraint.

This, along with many other instances, made me wonder if horror movies have made me paranoid, or should I say overly paranoid?

I can hardly go anywhere without my brain going into overtime.

Whether it’s coming up with nightmarishly ghoulish scenes of terror or science/fiction fantasies — which I have to admit are more scarce than the horror fantasies my mind creates — my brain refuses to just relax and enjoy what’s going on around me.

Have horror movies made me paranoid or have the made me prepared?

I often find myself screaming at the characters on film to not be stupid and trip over that log or to move it and not just stand there waiting on the knife to drop.

I’d like to think that if it were me I’d run instead of standing stock-still with a look of terror on my face waiting on the moment of pain with a scream on my lips.

I cannot imagine that I wouldn’t watch where I was going, causing me to trip on a twig, giving my pursuer just enough time to catch me, even though he’s moving at a slow, ambling zombie-like pace.

I’d like to give myself more credit than that, but who knows?

I don’t know whether it’s horror movies in general or just my own mind that turns up the paranoia when placed in situations resembling those I’ve seen on the silver screen, but either way I think that horror movies have made me both paranoid and more prepared.

Let’s just hope I never have to test the prepared theory.



Pompa is a Herald-Banner staff writer

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