Fall creeps in with little pounces and playful peek-a-boo days. You blink, and much like my little black kitten, it disappears and you wonder if you imagined the cool winds and crisp air while humidity wraps you up in a sauna of ninety degree heat. Yesterday I ran the A/C in the car. Today I’m wearing a sweater. I glance at the calendar and realize September is marching along at a brisk pace. I already have Halloween costume requests from Miss Drama. She wants to be a wolf.I wonder if she’ll change her mind when she finds out wolves do not accessorize.
Perhaps it’s the season, or the weather, or maybe the fact that the last two books I read were horror, a genre I rarely read. No matter the cause, I have the urge to write something dark and eerie. I’m far more often the type for happy endings, rainbows, and sunshine, but not always. As I’ve gotten a bit older, I find I have an inner goth that enjoys escapades into the dark and deadly realm. Seeing as how I am sane and not inclined to pursue a life of crime, daredevil activities, and have yet to stumble upon a vampire (sparkly or otherwise), my excursions are of the literary variety. Horror or dark fiction on the screen, unless it’s along the lines of a Hitchcock movie, usually does not appeal to me. I enjoy the way a book allows you free reign to create the monsters versus the blood and gore Hollywood prefers to sell.
I have a story brewing in my mental cauldron and wish to pose a question. Do you prefer horror which ends on a hideous mournful note, or the kind where the hero plunges through ghastly circumstances, but takes out the monster*?
*Monster- whatever nemesis, real or imagined that the hero comes into conflict with.