The tale of my Tragic Wussity

I used to be deathly afraid of the dark back when I was younger. Perhaps you’re visualizing a child in her toddler years, clutching on to her parents’ hands and adamantly refusing to enter a room without the lights on.

Wrong!

I was afraid of the dark till I was well into my teenage years. (in fact, I still refuse to enter a room without the lights on now. I will flip on the light switch, wait for the bulb to flicker on and then step into the room. Woe is me..) I also used to be terrified of ghosts. Back when I was younger, my parents never allowed me to watch horror flicks because they knew of what a complete wuss I was. But as my teenage years came along, obviously my parents were not able to restrict me any longer.

I recall one fateful day back in secondary one. I headed to town to catch a movie titled ‘Darkness Falls’ with some friends. That was my first horror flick, and I didn’t know what to expect.

So we purchased tickets and went for lunch before the movie. Here comes the best part – while queueing up to enter the cinema, I discovered that my movie ticket was missing. Splendid, right?

Being the selfless person that I was (ahem), I told my friends to go ahead and enjoy the film without me. I had about 3 hours to kill so I went to the restroom to sit on the toilet bowl (with the lid down) and read my book. I know, that’s just weird right? I could’ve sat on a bench or something but no, I chose the toilet.

So I sat down and opened my book and lo and behold – out fell my movie ticket!
I ran to the cinema counter and gave my ticket to the usher (who had to usher me to the correct cinema due to my inexperience and intense stupidity) and entered the theatre. And get this – it was my virgin experience watching a movie without my parents so I had zero inking on how to locate the right seats. I didn’t know that there were lights on the sides of the aisles with letters and numbers on them so I spontaneously chose a seat at the back of the theatre.

By now, the introductory stages of the movie was over. I recalled the first scene vividly – it was a couple of people huddled in a dark corner. I knew then, instinctively, that this wasn’t gonna be a pretty 3 hours. And boy, was I right. It was intense agony, more than my little teenage mind could handle. Images of the grotesque ‘ghost’, long creepy hair and crying actors and actresses flashed across my eyes and I couldn’t look away from the screen – I call it morbid fascination. My ears were ravaged with throaty terror-filled screams emanating from the speakers coupled with high-pitched yells from the audience. I myself was too rigid with fright to move, scream or even squeak for help. I simply sat there, eyes wide and transfixed by the monstrosity that was unfolding before my very eyes.

When the movie was finally over and I rejoined my friends, I was shaking from head to toe. I couldn’t comprehend why the ghost in the movie would be so evil. I couldn’t comprehend why it looked as frightful as it did, or why it simply wouldn’t leave the people alone. No, my little mind failed to realize that it was just a movie. I had successfully convinced myself that to protect myself from the aforementioned ghost, I would have to bathe myself in light from here on to eternity.

From that day on, I made certain to switch on every single light in the house when night fell. And trust me, that was A LOT of lights. My old house had spotlights, chandeliers, standing lamps, fluorescent lights – EVERYTHING. My house was basically a dazzlingly blinding shower of lights at night and my parents couldn’t understand why I had suddenly developed an unfathomable and unfounded fear of the dark.

Till today.. I jump at the slightest creak, squeak or noise in the dark.

Thank you, Hollywood film directors. You’ve successfully ruined my life.