Monday, July 20, 2015


This piece was written on a lunch break, I don't think it's going to go anywhere, so I thought I'd just put it here. I haven't bothered to proofread it, but I am proud of some of the words/phrases I used. Enjoy...
Growing up in Kentucky, there are many things you get used to seeing. Horses, pickup trucks, and an ungodly amount of bourbon. Kentucky actually has more barrels of bourbon than it does people; that’s a fact. You can google it. One thing that Kentucky has, and you may not realize it until you visit some other places, are forests. Kentucky’s not alone in this fact, but it certainly representative of it. Stand outside nearly anywhere in Kentucky, except maybe in the middle of downtown Louisville, and you will see a thick, vibrant forest somewhere around you. In the summer from a distance they look like fluffy green clouds revealing only the legs of African giants. Up close you can see the varying shapes that resemble the paw prints of monsters, the blades of chainsaws, and the scales of dragons. Growing up I would visit a stream with clear, bubbling water that was shaded entirely by trees so that it looked like a tunnel. Even in the hottest days of my youth the trees kept the water cool and refreshing--though my dad wouldn’t let me drink from it.
The trees had their dark side too. My brother would watch a lot of horror movies when we were kids. Being the younger brother, I was often as repulsed by these features as I was intrigued by them. Movies about zombies rising from their graves, beings from hell coming to torture the innocent, and monsters from outer space to dispense their own Lovecraftian form of horror. One of the series, however, was more potent to me than any other--Friday the 13th. The killer in the hockey mask both frightened and intrigued me, so that I would start any film he was in, and in the glimpses I would catch of Him in between my tiny fingers would be enough to ensure I could never finish the movies, either begging my brother to stop them or to go and hide in my room. All the while, the dark forest that surrounded my house promised death within their claw-like trunks.
Eventually I grew up, as we all tend to do. Tiny fingers gave way to closed eyelids, and eventually to open eyes as fear gave away to intrigue. Horror movies became less frightening and the Friday the 13th series became sillier, but the forest never lost its macabre mystique.