Scared, But I Watched Anyway

We got our first VHS player for Christmas in 1987. I don’t remember the brand or how it was hooked up, but I remember the feeling of suddenly being able to watch movies whenever we wanted, and that part felt like the future.

The next day, my dad came home with two tapes: Cujo and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2.

I’m not sure why those were the picks. Maybe that’s just what was available. Maybe he wanted to see them himself. All I know is that my friend was over, he was a little older than me, and when those tapes went into the VCR, I didn’t want to look wimpy.

So I watched.

I remember the car scenes in Cujo most vividly. The heat. The feeling of being trapped. Cujo himself with his dirty fur, foam and blood around his mouth, eyes locked on the window. It felt gross and real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Then there was Nightmare 2. The shower scene. Freddy’s tongue coming out of the phone. The pool party chaos. The ending that made it feel like none of it was really over. It was surreal and wrong and uncomfortable.

At some point during Nightmare, I remember my mom saying something like, “Maybe they shouldn’t be watching this.”

But we did anyway.

I was scared. Not pretend-scared. Actually scared. But I didn’t leave the room. I didn’t ask to turn it off. I sat there and watched all of it.

And that was the beginning.

For whatever reason, being scared didn’t push me away from horror. It made me curious. I wanted more of that tension. More of that uneasy feeling of not knowing what was coming next. Before long, Halloween became my favorite time of year. Not just for candy, but for everything that came with it. Cold October nights. Standing in line at local haunted attractions with friends pretending we weren’t nervous.

The first one we started going to was called Jason’s Woods. At the time it felt primitive with it’s plywood walls, dark wooded trails, actors jumping out from behind trees… but it worked. It scared you because you wanted to be scared.

Not long after that, we started going to Field of Screams. Over the years both places evolved. What started as simple hayride and walkthrough attractions are now basically full-blown horror amusement parks, and they’re still two of the most popular seasonal attractions in the area.

But back then, standing in line in the cold air, waiting to walk into the dark, it felt massive.

Horror wasn’t something I snuck around to watch. It wasn’t rebellion. It was just there in the living room on VHS, in October traditions, in the ritual of getting scared on purpose.

I don’t remember much about that first VCR now. But I remember Cujo’s face pressed against the car window. I remember Freddy’s voice through the phone.

I was scared.

But I watched anyway.