By Tara Figurski
I love to be scared. I own some horror movies that could make the bravest flinch, like “Serpent and the Rainbow” and “Prince of Darkness.”
I would rent scary movies every Friday night during high school. I learned early on to never turn around when being chased and promiscuity is a death sentence.
I recall one friday night, my friends and I linked arms and walked around my neighborhood singing the Freddie Krueger theme song. When we could drive, Friday nights were assigned to visiting haunted houses and forests.
I’ve visited a lot of haunted hotspots. I’m a proponent of the haunted forest over a haunted house. When it’s dark outside and you’re in a haunted forest the dangers seem to lurk everywhere. You can almost feel the fear on your skin.
A pet peeve of mine about haunted houses is the use of chainless chain saws. They’re not scary. They just make a loud noise and the stench of gasoline gives me a headache.
Also, clowns are not scary. Clowns make me laugh. Why do organizers insist on throwing clowns in the mix?
I was only scared once by a clown. It was during a scene from “Poltergeist.” A toy clown disappears from a chair in the little boy’s room. The boy looks under his bed and the clown attacks from behind.
That was a scary clown.