Evil Never Sleeps

My brother and I never got into any real trouble as children. We were good kids, with good intentions, but we did have a dark side: We loved horror movies. From a very young age, we craved the thrill, even if it gave us constant nightmares. As much as the movies scared us, they were not what frightened us the most out of our nightly adventures. Walking past our parents’ bedroom, down the creaky stairs, turning the television on, adjusting the volume just right; that was all part of the thrill. What terrorized us more than any horror movies combined, however, was the thought of waking up our parents. Every little sound they made upstairs had us turning off the television and holding our breath. We never did get caught, though; if we had, my parents probably would have simply scowled and sent us on our way.

Tonight, three of us take our seats in the living room. Getting us all here was no small task because, as any parent with teenagers knows, scheduling something with them takes skill, more skill, and incredible amounts of determination. But we are finally here.

As A Nightmare on Elm Street starts, I observe my son and daughter. My son is smiling, but my daughter is frowning. This movie throws you right into the action, builds up the story, but keeps the adrenaline flowing at a steady pace.

The credits roll. My daughter loves the intensity of the movie but complains that it dragged on in places. My son enjoyed it very much. In fact, the first words he utters are: “When are we watching the next one?”

Wes Craven's New Nightmare

“Soon,” I say, but explain that I have no interest in watching the remake; I mostly want to revisit New Nightmare—a wonderful twist of a movie. They both smile and nod.

Could it be that I’ve started a tradition to last for years to come, one that may some day involve my grandkids? It’s possible. I sure hope so. Though my journey through these blogs comes to an end, I’ve already lined up all the classics that shaped my adolescence. I may only be in my mid-forties, but I’ve discovered that, when you reach a certain age, there are things you begin to realize. Time isn’t on our side at all, and we have to appreciate each moment, and savour it all.

I think I’ll talk to Dad this weekend when we go over for dinner. He might join us for some Friday night horror some time. I’ll even offer chips and pop for safe measure.

Maybe we'll even get to see the new Jason movie in theaters when it comes out.

Ode To Jason


Stephane Moisan

Stephane Moisan is a student in the Professional Writing program at Algonquin College. He has been happily married (to the same woman) for the past 25 years and is the father of two teenagers. He enjoys reading and writing, as well as spending time with his family.

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The Lights Go Down: Where Do We Start?

This Friday evening brings back memories from my childhood, when I would sit down with my parents and siblings to enjoy movie night, with our carefully distributed bowls of chips and equally calculated quantities of pop. Those first few years we would watch a lot of family movies, from The Wizard of Oz to Escape to Witch Mountain. As we grew older, however, we graduated to scary movies, but my mother refused to sit with us for these. Poltergeist disturbed her too much. This tradition lasted well into my teens. 

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