The Goosebumps Movie is now available on Blu-ray! To celebrate, we asked some of Wattpad's creepiest creators what scared them most as a child! Was it monsters under the bed, shadows lurking around the corners? Or something else even spookier?
Read...
It's the warmth of the day drifting off into the night, finding a quiet place to sleep before returning come the dawn. It's the house relaxing after a hectic day, easing its beams and bones down so it can watch the sun set and the moon rise.
That's all.
It's not... anything else. No monster. No slithering demon with dripping fangs and festering pustules. It's fine. The bedroom is empty. Under the bed there's no space for anything to hide. Even a stray sock would have to lay itself flat and inch in, little by little, if it wanted to hide in the bed's dark recesses.
All is well.
But, just to be sure, I'll keep myself wrapped up in my covers. If my knee or toe or entire foot were to peek out, suddenly there'd be a host of evil critters, from demonic to just plain hungry, ready to grab the exposed appendage and feast on it. And I'd be dragged under, crunching as I was forced through the narrow gap, into the nightmarish world where all such creatures lived. Maybe that's where the socks came from. They were all that was left of the victims.
As a child, I was afraid of only two things, really. Movies excited me but didn't frighten me. Spiders were little friends unless one of their webs caught my face, in which case I'd abruptly turn into a rabid John Travolta, with a dancing fever there'd be no cure for until the web was off my face and any spiders crawling, real or imagined, were gone. I didn't like beetles but I wasn't scared of them. Clowns were funny. I didn't have a wardrobe and, if I did, it would just be full of clothes. And the dark was just the light going to sleep.
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One of the things which I was afraid of was my father. He was an imposing man and it wasn't until I was older that we became closer. As a child, I had respect and fear in equal measures.
Other than him, my fear was of the creatures under my bed. If I did have any part of my body out from under the covers, it felt cold, even in summer, and bare. Inviting. Sometimes I'd force myself to be brave and see how long I could keep it out for, but I'd always give in, pulling the bait back in to safety.
I have a strong belief this has affected my writing. I write horror, suspense, thrillers where the darkness is not, and never will be, your friend. Often, it's definitely the night – not just the darkness – you have to be afraid of. There are the dead, the undead and the want to be dead. Ghosts or those whose lives are so paled by circumstance they are shades of their former selves occupy the pages of my stories. Not being scared by horror films or stories, but finding them thrilling instead, had me happy to write about the darker side of life – or death. In fact, I have a tattoo which includes the words 'There is darkness and madness in each of us. We must do battle with our own demons.' My tattoos are directly related to my writing and have images which suit.
I have written about things which wait until I'm asleep before they venture forth on only a couple of occasions. Both refer to the time your mother says 'Sweet Dreams' and I penned them around the same time. One was a dark poem where 'You listen to the breathing of the monsters under the bed, and you remember your mother's words: "Sweet dreams," she said.'
The other I felt I needed to write. The first poem was clinging to me, causing my childhood fears to resurface. I dipped into my imagination and met Igglepop Utterby, owner of the Under The Bed (UTB = Utterby) Sweet Shop, where you go when your mother says those magic words. Ig helped me to write a nonsensical piece in which the sweet shop was a wonderful place where your night time wanderings were full of smiles and delicious treats. He went on, afterwards, to occupy The Workshop, where he visits you, from under the bed, and fills your sleeping head with the fantastic dreams he's written for you.
Igglepop helped me fight back against the monsters I knew were never there in the first place. I'm a grown man now. I know they're not real. I know they've never been real, but I still dread to bring them to life again with my writing. I prefer to think of Igglepop's sweet shop rather than a clawed hand with nails doing their best to become talons and skin tighter than the hand-me-down trousers I had to wear when I was young.
They say you never get over your first love. I wonder if you ever get over your first fear. I asked my daughter what scares her. She told me I'd need a big sheet of paper! For me, however, it would be extremely short. I write the dark stories because, without the darkness you can't have the light.
But there's one place where the light never reached when I was young. My first fear. Under the bed. As I said, sometimes I would force myself to be brave. I'd deliberately stick out my hand or foot. I'd grit my teeth and wait, feeling the cold air giving me goosebumps, caressing it like the breath of a beast. Then I'd yank it back and snuggle down and be proud of myself for beating my record.
Sometimes, I still do.
Monsters under the bed - a classic fear! Were you afraid of monsters too? Or maybe you still are? Tell us!
