Clowns are Not Cute

As I was growing up, my sisters and I were always babysitting around the neighborhood. One of regular sitting jobs was at the Warren's house which was kitty-corner to my parents' house. (Now for you southerners...us northerners say kitty-corner NOT katty-corner).

On this particular Friday night, the kids were already sound asleep, so I decided to do what any babysitter would do - turn on the t.v. What ever possessed me to watch Stephen King's It is beyhond me. I have no clue. All I know is I found myself watching a scary movie about clowns. Even now all I remember is the blood swirling down the bathroom drain.

Now watching a scary movie is one thing, but let me describe the house for you in order to get the full effect. Their television was in a corner of the family room next to a giant bay window. A giant bay window WITHOUT curtains, shades, or blinds of any sort. A wide open window that overlooked their backyard which led directly into the woods. These woods didn't lead to a neighbor's house or a dirt road - just lots and lots of darkness.

Ever feel like someone was watching you? Yeah - had that feeling the entire time. All I could see were the shadows of the night. Every sound made me jump. I jumped when the heater turned on. I jumped when a branch brushed up against the side of the deck. I jumped when the wind rustled the pine trees. I jumped at everything.

I think I went through a phase in middle school where I watched scary movies. Was it cool to watch them? It, Candyman, The Shining - saw them all. Each one gave me nightmares for weeks. To this day, I refuse to watch scary movies. Even the cheesy ones, the ones that make my husband laugh, are traumatic for me.

This post today was in response to a prompt on Mama Kat's blog. Check her out for other prompts, to get in on the action, or to just read an awesome blog.