A couple years ago Bravo had a four part series called "The 100 Scariest Movie Moments" and as it turned out they were having a marathon. My upstairs neighbor was out of town, the house next door was a part-time resident and of course gone, the next two lots were empty and then there was a house. Across the canal, none of the houses were currently occupied and of course I live way down at the end of a dead end road three miles north of US1 in the Florida Keys and trust you me, that's a long way from anywhere. What better time to scare the bejeezus out of myself?
I get some popcorn and close the drapes and hunker down for literally four hours of all those super freaky, mess your pants, scenes from every really scary horror movie from the beginning of time. After the whole four hours is over, my heart is pounding in my chest and I get up and debate going to bed but that means I have to walk into my dark bedroom and darn it, I'm all freaked now. As I'm rolling the idea over in my head, from right behind me I hear...
POUND POUND POUND POUND POUND
on my sliding glass door. I'm sure I'm dead now. It's Freddie/Jason/Leatherface/Damien come to get me.
Finally, I muster all the courage I can and I (contrary to everything I've just learned about surviving horror movie villains) WHIP back the curtains only to find that it's my neighbor home early wondering if I wanted to come up for a rum. All I can do is nod.
It took me a solid 10 minutes to gather my frayed nerves back enough to tell him how badly he scared me. I'm sure he's still laughing.
Rachel