When I grew up, my imagination relaxed and I no longer had fear of such things. I could turn out the light and my biggest fear would be stubbing my toe on a unseen piece of furniture. I no longer had to check in my closet or look under my bed for I knew that there was nothing there in darkness which had not been there in the light. Something was missing though. I watched horror movies but the only rush was the occasional surprise when something jumped out. In the stories I read there was never the irrational afterthoughts of my racing imagination.
I continued with my horror studies, the stories and the movies, continually working with my imagination to one day regain the thrill I knew so well as a child. The only thing I could sometimes rely on was the occasional nightmare, though they were few and far between and once awake, the thrill would quickly dissipate. I took to reading King, Rice, Barker and my favourite, Lovecraft. The movies I grew to love contained zombies, vampires and other such monsters.
Earlier this week I’d read a story by Lovecraft called “Herbert West, Re-Animator”. It is a very good story and thrilled me with the grotesque, as much as any horror story can. I’d seen the movies based on this story which helped form the “reality” of it in my imagination. I reflected on this tale as I took my dog for our evening walk.
The time was around ten o’clock and it was still fairly warm, though I still brought my jacket. There was not a cloud in the sky, the moon had already set and a gentle breeze blew through the trees. The darkness was uncanny. We walked down to Saxe Point, to visit the ocean as we often do on our evening journeys. There is a stretch of road, just before the parking lot where the street light is unlit and there are no houses to illuminate any part of the road. I couldn’t believe how dark it was and I felt a bit of a thrill, nothing like when I was young, but a thrill none the less.
We continued our way to our resting spot which is a concrete platform facing out to the ocean. The pad has three benches and a railing all around. I walked up to the railing and looked up to admire the stars, still marvelling at the darkness surrounding me. Something caught my dog’s attention and I looked to see what it was, though seeing in the darkness with any exactness proved seemingly impossible. To my horror I spied a face.
If a person of average height were to walk around the platform and stand opposite, their chin could rest on the floor of the pad. I tried to focus on the face while my dog worked at pulling me closer but all I could see in the darkness was a faint image which suddenly moved a little bit. My heart pounded in my chest and I resisted his advance. Whether a person was standing there or not, I did not want to really find out. I was thrilled and exhilarated. I took out a cigarette and lit it, to prove to the figure that I was not afraid as it continued to sway. I then turned and continued our walk homeward.
This incident has been the closest I have ever come in my adult life to the thrilling horror which filled my childhood. It may seem odd to imagine one wanting to have this feeling but it is the rush of adrenalin and the prospect of discovering the dark unknown that I find exhilarating. I reflected all night and the following day on that moment of fear and couldn’t wait to return to the location of it’s cause.
The night again was dark, with no moon or clouds to illuminate the ground but the wind was stronger than the previous evening. When I reached the spot, I saw that the face was still there but was moving around wildly. As I advanced it looked less like a face because of it’s rapid movement and when I walked right up to the railing to take a close look, I saw that it was merely a long stock with a few leaves and a small flower on top.
