It was probably just my brothers f--king with me, but when I was a little kid I distinctly remember a low, breathy voice telling me to look toward the window. While that might not sound like much to you, I hated looking out that damn window, as all the potted plants lining it looked like little creatures when backlit by the moon. *shudder*
So that night, as a hopelessly terrified five or six year old, I ran out of my room to my two older brothers, and managed to say, Eddie! That scary voice that you heard? I heard it too! Shockingly, they didn't laugh, but instead it seemed like the life had immediately been sucked out of both of them. Eddie had heard the voice...
...but he never mentioned it to me.*
The only thing creepier than being a freaked-out little kid, is being the parent of a freaked-out of little kid. I say this not only as someone whose young son tearfully staggered into his mom and dad's bed again, but also as someone who recently finished the chilling Aussie horror flick The Babadook. The monster might be scary, but the kid? The kid is f--king terrifying.
Single mom Amelia is having a tough go. Her job sucks, she has zero love-life, and -most pressing of all- her son Samuel is a real handful. We've all known a kid like Samuel: wiry, jittery, with perpetual dark circles under the eyes. He's a good dude, but with his (hopefully?) over-active imagination, he's a tough one to be around. He plays rough, he talks about monsters and death, and ultimately, no one really wants to spend anytime with him. Even his mom to a degree. And watching her struggle with Samuel, I felt two things: bad...and really, really fortunate.
