Define creepy.
Go on, off the top of your head, whenever you’re ready.
Tell you what: I’ll finish cleaning this knife while you think about it. The blood always has a way of getting into the crevices around the handle and if you don’t get it out of there the blade will start to rust…There.
That’s better—squeaky clean.
Now, did you come up with anything? No?
It’s difficult, isn’t it?
Creepy is a strange word, one of those adjectives with a thousand meanings. Derived from the same chaotic pool of emotions as hair-raising, bone-chilling, nerve-rattling.
And love.
When I was a kid, I loved the creepy. I searched for it desperately in book and film. Devouring R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike and those Scary Stories books with the brilliantly horrid black and white drawings. Tearing meaty chunks from the works of Frank Darabont and the singing dead girl in Lady in White. Swallowing Nickelodeon’s Are you Afraid of the Dark and Eerie, Indiana by the mouthful, not bothering to chew.
I lived for the excitement of it all. Exhilarated to be able to peak under the veil of everyday life and see horrible things, yes, but also the possibility of courage and wonder and that grand and eternal balance of Good versus Bad. It wasn’t long before that exhilaration became an addiction, and that addiction a way of life.
Now, I spend my days peaking under rocks. Grabbing the squirming, writhing things from the soggy earth beneath and touching their juicy underbellies to my tongue. Mostly, the taste is how you’d imagine: bitter and rancid and otherwise forgettable. But sometimes…
Sometimes the explosion of flavor makes the pulse race, the adrenaline rush, and that initial high from my childhood comes roaring back. My eyes roll up into my skull and I can’t help but moan, “Oh, God…that’s so…very…creepy!”
You know…Come to think of it, I just happen to have a few rocks we can peak under. Right here, in this cabin.
What do you think? You want to play?
I knew you would.
Okay, get ready. Here they come:
1. Imagine you are strolling along down an unfamiliar neighborhood. You’re a bit lost, in search of some place known locally as The Street and an alleged business client named Bert who currently resides there. You round the bend, and feel a sharp pain in your right leg. You stumble. Fall. When you look up, you find yourself staring directly into the face of this:
He slowly tucks the hypodermic needle, now empty, back into a black leather bag. The last thing you experience are the words, “Get the feet, Ernie,” then everything goes black.
2. A man approaches you at a house party among friends. You recognize him, he’s been around before, and he has a pleasant smile that puts you at ease. ”Jenny’s said wonderful things about you,” he says. ”And I’ve always loved writers. The wife and I were talking, and we decided we’d love to have you for dinner. The kids, too.” And because of that pleasant smile, you commit. ”Friday night,” he says. ”You bring the wine.” When you arrive Friday, you find his house his charming, the decor sublime. He guides you through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, then into a narrow hallway with a single door at the end. He opens the door and motions you to go through first. He smiles pleasantly, so you go. Then a boot in the small of your back, and you go flying inward. Catching a quick glimpse of the ceiling…
…and then the man with the pleasant smile is closing the door behind you. ”I brought you dinner, my lovelies,” he says, “And wine.” Then the door is closed and everything goes black.
3. After the recent death of a distant relative, you and your mother find yourselves in the back of a barn in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Rummaging through antique trunks and boxes of mothballed clothing, you stumble upon an old photo album. Flipping the pages, you recognize a young woman with luxurious auburn curls and classic, movie star smile. ”That’s your grandmother,” your mother says over your shoulder. ”She died very young.” ”She’s beautiful,” you say. Then you turn the page and see something that fills your stomach with lead. ”Mom, what is this?“:
“Oh, that’s your grandfather, honey. My dad.” She touches the picture gently. ”This was their wedding picture.” Then her hand is on your face. ”He’s been asking about you. Maybe its time we arranged-oh, speak of the devil! Hi, Dad!” The barn fills with the aroma of rancid meat. As you look up into the face of your bloodline, the world starts to spin, and everything goes black.
4. You live alone. Across the street is an ancient foreclosure, a relic of a home with cobwebs over the porch, days from being condemned. Then, suddenly, there is life in the house. You hear movement, the opening and closing of doors. Lights come on at night, and every so often there is a stuffed animal left out in the yard. One day, after a few happy hour cocktails with friends, you decide to venture over and meet the new neighbors. You knock on the door. At first, there’s no response, but as you knock again you hear something like slithering behind the door. A voice, like a metal knife on a porcelain dish, oozes forth from inside. ”Is you baby?” ”Am I what?” you say. ”Is you baby? Is you tastee?” “No,” you begin. ”No, I-” Then you turn and run. That night, you look out your window and see this:
From behind, that syrupy voice shrieks into your ear. ”It makes it pretty. Makes it so pretty for its tastee baby…” Then something wet wraps around your neck, and everything goes black.
There.
That wasn’t so bad, was it? Most of it probably left a foul flavor in your mouth, but maybe you tasted the creepy once or twice. Close enough for a definition, anyway. Close enough to make it count.
And if not, that’s okay. Sometimes it’s better to sit and wait for creepy to come to you. Which it does, you know. Always in the wee hours of the morning, when sleep is a false sense of security, and everything goes black.
