1 hour ago · 12 min read2429 words · Life · hide · 0 comments

I was twelve years old when my father bought me my first horror movie: Halloween. It was October, and Blockbuster had released the film under its own label. I remember standing near the registers and seeing a stack of VHS tapes. My dad picked one up, asked if I had ever seen it, and when I said no, he smiled and told me I was going to love it. That moment was strange for a couple of reasons. First, my dad was willingly letting me watch a horror movie. Second, he was actually buying a movie. My dad did not believe in buying movies. As far as I can remember, Halloween may have been the first and last movie he ever purchased. I had seen a few horror movies before that, things like Pet Sematary and Popcorn, but horror was never really a genre that played in our house. My parents were pretty lenient about what I watched. Violent ’80s action movies were fine, although I was expected to cover my eyes during sex scenes, which was a very normal and not at all confusing set of viewing rules for…

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