In Which There Is Terror

A few years ago, my BFF Viola and I decided we would go see a scary movie together.

On the one hand, we have Viola, who hate hate hate hate hates scary movies with a passion. On the other hand, there’s me, a person who does not necessarily revel in the scary movie genre. I despise horror movies that are all about blood and guts and gore. BUT I do enjoy a clever movie of suspense or a poetically haunting ghost story. The Sixth Sense. White Noise. Wait Until Dark. I have watched all of these movies and been genuinely scared—not grossed out, but scared. I think a good scare is good for me, once in a while.

Anyways, we decided to see a movie called The Woman in Black. It was based off a book, which seemed promising to literary connoisseurs such as ourselves. It had Daniel Radcliffe in it, who will always be beloved of our generation due to his playing Harry Potter. And the poster had a photograph of children with their eyes scratched out. A ghost that scratches eyes off of photographs? Intriguing. Sign us up. We went.

Was The Woman in Black a good movie?

Yes. It was. Daniel Radcliffe was great. When his character was all, “I can’t leave this island without being terribly and stupidly brave and heroic,” I was all, “Harry, you and your saving-people thing. You never learn.” But he was really adorable as a young father.

The movie had a very interesting story. It wasn’t all gory or shock value; it was very clever and well-plotted.

Finally, there was the main attraction, the woman in black, the ghost of the story. The theatrical poster was a little misleading in this regard. The ghost didn’t scratch photographs; at least, that wasn’t its primary ghostliness. Any time someone saw it, it would force a child to kill itself. There’s nothing creepier than that if you ask me.

So yes, The Woman in Black was a good movie.

A scary movie.

Too good of a scary movie.

Afterward, Viola and I went back to my parents’ house for a spot of conversation.

VIOLA: It’s time for me to leave.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Okay.

A beat of silence.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Do you want me to walk you outside to your car?

VIOLA: YES.

We walked outside timidly, terrified that the woman in black was lurking somewhere in the dark near Viola’s Toyota.

For weeks afterward, I suffered.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: What if the woman in black is on the other side of the shower curtain?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: What if the woman in black appears in the mirror when I’m using the bathroom late at night?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: What if the woman in black is in my closet? What if she’s in the laundry room? What if she’s at the bottom of the stairs? In the backyard? On the hallway ceiling?

I checked the book out of the library and read it. Why would I check out the book of a movie that had completely scarred me? Morbid curiosity, I suppose. Good news, though. It was nowhere near as creepy as the movie. I relaxed slightly.

Finally, some nine months after seeing the movie, I decided I was desensitized. So late on Thanksgiving night, when my little sisters said, “I’m bored. Let’s watch a movie,” I said, “I know a scary movie you might like.”

Again, morbid curiosity.

But I was desensitized, right? This movie wouldn’t scare me anymore. Well…better not take the chance. I decided to show my sisters the made-for-TV version from the 1980s, which was conveniently on Youtube and couldn’t possibly be anywhere near as scary as the remake.

We all snuggled up on the pullout bed on the downstairs couch and pulled up the movie on my laptop.

Was the original movie as terrifying as the remake? Nope.

But it was still pretty scary.

After the last scene was over, we were all kind of quiet.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Let’s just sleep here, yes?

The pullout bed was tiny. But sleeping all squished together seemed much, much safer than sleeping alone in our respective beds.

That was years ago. And yet, I’m still thoroughly disturbed. Sometimes, when I’m creeping down the dark hallway in my apartment, trying to feel for the light switch on the wall, or I’m lying awake in bed unable to sleep, I think, “What if…the woman in black?”

It sends a shiver down my spine every time.

Well, the other day, I was looking at wonderful comedic videos on Youtube when I saw a sponsored video ad for The Woman in Black 2.

It showed a very fake-looking image of a woman dressed in black with a rotting face.

I was all, “Ha. Ha ha. Nice try, people who make humorous previews for fake sequels. There’s no way this is a real thing.”

But then.

But then Wikipedia told me it was real.

I clicked on the preview because morbid curiosity.

Then I exited out after about twenty seconds because mortal terror.

Then I hyperventilated about the horribleness of more woman in black. And checked over my shoulder to see if she was there.

She wasn't.

At least, not that I saw.

I don't want to see this sequel. I would die before I saw this sequel. I am going to stay far, far away from this sequel.

I think.

Maybe.

Probably not.

Stupid morbid curiosity.