Attack of the Killer Carpet Monster

I had trouble sleeping again last night. After tossing and turning, shutting the light off, then on, then reading, then lying quietly with my eyes closed, I gave up and decided to get a glass of water.

I went down to the kitchen and flipped on the light.

An impossibly huge carpet monster fell off the wall.

What’s a carpet monster, you say? One of these little bastards, so dubbed in our home due to the fact that they blend perfectly with our carpet, so you could be walking within inches of one and never even know:

Ew ew ew ew EW EW EW.

It would’ve startled you, too, something furry flopping onto the floor then running straight at you. I screamed like an impossibly sissy girl and ran in a rough circle, trying to scare the thing the way it had scared me so it would run away and not touch my feet with its horrible, horrible legs.

It moved like lightning on crack. I was getting ready to propel myself ass-first up onto the counter when it zoomed past, waving at me with its million legs, and hid under the fridge. I was alternately paralyzed with horror and…well. You should know this about me: when I am overtired, like really, really sleep deprived, I get the giggles. The smallest, unfunniest thing will make me laugh until I cry and choke on my own saliva. It’s so sexy, you don’t even know.

So here I am, backed against the counter, and it occurs to me how silly I’m being, and my brain knows this but my body doesn’t give a shit what my brain has to say and I am completely unable to move. I’m stuck there, laughing and shrieking and finally C comes in to check whether I have completely lost my mind.

I manage to cross the room and perch on a bar stool, feet tucked up under me so the thing can’t get them.

C says, “I gotta see this thing.” And what does he do? He gets down on the floor in front of the fridge and tries to lure it out.

The whole time, I’m gigglescreaming uncontrollably and panicking that it’s going to get on him and he’s poking around under there with his bare hands and the whole scene was just not cool.

He never did find it. And I don’t think he believed me when I told him it was the size of a mouse.

To be fair, a house centipede isn’t dangerous. They’re supposedly helpful and eat other bugs or some shit. I don’t care. What I care about is that there’s an unholy creature with a billion legs made of pure hatred running around this house and IT’S ABLE TO CLIMB WALLS. Which means IT COULD FALL ON ME. And EAT MY BRAIN. Totally unacceptable.

(image source)

Real Life Horror: LASIK Eye Surgery

I’ve decided to give contacts another go. I still love my glasses, but it’s nice having the option, especially for DayJob. I’m not at the point yet (and may never be) where I feel like wearing contacts every day. Sometimes they dry out. Sometimes I have trouble getting them lined up correctly (hello, astigmatism, you bastard). Sometimes I’d rather have the extra couple minutes of sleep in the morning.

Why don’t I just get LASIK, then?


This is why:

THE EYE FLAP. If I was in an accident and part of my eye CAME OFF, you can bet your ass I’d be screaming all the way to the emergency room. I wouldn’t dream of getting it done on purpose.

I should be clear: I’m not saying LASIK is bad. Lots of people are happy with their LASIK results. More power to them; they’re braver than me. It’s the actual procedure that freaks me out: something about scalpels and eyeballs sets my hair on end. And yeah, yeah, bladeless options, blah blah, it’s too late. I saw the video. The damage has been done. I’ll keep my malformed eyeballs, thank you.

(It should be obvious: don’t watch this if you’re considering the procedure. Have this instead.)

Fuck Basements.

I don’t think there’s a scarier place in any home than a basement. (Except possibly a dark hallway. Or the back porch when the motion light comes on and you fully expect there to be a serial killer, knife upraised, on the other side of the glass…waiting for you.)

One of the scariest experiences I had as a kid was the time I went into the basement laundry room. I don’t remember what I was going in there for, but when I got inside I saw what I was certain was a dead body hanging from the rafters. It was life-sized, it swayed a little, and it was right in front of me. I remember my lungs froze and I couldn’t move, and my eyes slowwwwwwly worked their way up the corpse to realize…

…it was my Dad’s coverall, drying from him having worn it to shovel the driveway.

Even once I knew what it was, the terror took a few moments to subside; and while I tried to remember how to breathe, I kept watch, expecting it to reach out and touch my shoulder.

I think now, as a horror writer, that if I can scare one person the way that suit scared me, I’ll have told a story the right way.

creator unknown

What Are You Afraid Of?

Happy Friday the 13th!

Since I’m not exactly a superstitious person (I write this with a black cat in my lap), I thought it might be interesting to learn about what spooks other people.

Here are some of the more obscure phobias I found via Wikipedia’s List of Phobias:

1. Agyrophobia, the fear of crossing the road
2. Chaetophobia, fear of hair
3. Ebulliophobia, fear of bubbles
4. Gymnophobia, fear of nudity
5. Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia, fear of the number 666
6. Hylophobia, fear of wood, forests, or trees
7. Osmophobia, fear of smells
8. Oikophobia, fear of home and appliances
9. Phagophobia, fear of swallowing
10. Somniphobia, fear of sleep
11. Tetraphobia, fear of the number 4
12. Scoleciphobia, fear of worms


13. Paraskevidekatriaphobia, fear of Friday the 13th!

What scares YOU?