I should be writing, but instead I appear to be more interested in watching a Let's Play! walkthrough of Penumbra: Overture. And given this is a precursor to Amnesia: The Dark Descent, you can imagine that watching in the dark while you're mostly home alone is...not the best of ideas. Naturally, I'm all over it like a flannel. And this is coming from the girl who is still too scared to walk outside the house in the dark in case there are raptors or zombies lurking in the forest on and surrounding the property. My overactive imagination, let me show you it!
But it does make me think that I ought to write more horror. This has probably come about because my mind, in the words of Lydia Deetz, is One Big Dark Room at the moment. It would seem a sensible idea to take advantage of that and actually tap into the crawling chaos. Or something. Although with that said, for someone who technically lives fairly close to the reputed location of R'lyeh, I do tend to be fairly blasé about the whole thing. Er.
I used to write a lot of horror-themed stories when I was smaller. I was a big fan of Christopher Pike and Stephen King from the age of about twelve onwards, and to be honest a lot of my earlier stories were wild attempts at horror. (I'm reminded, actually, of the time my first form extra-curricular writing class was taken to an ice-cream factory and we all came back and wrote stories about people being pushed into churning vats. Or there's the time my third form class was asked to rewrite the ending of a novel we all despised, and I believe every single one of us ended it with a bloodbath of one sort or another. So much for the gentle upbringing of a rural New Zealand setting...it must be all the sheep. Yeah. Those damn sheep...) I sort of fell out of the habit in the end. I think the last thing I wrote that skirted the horror genre was a bit of a crazy novel I only sporadically write; it's called Shadowsea and this particular part involved shipwrecks. And zombies. Because everybody loves ZOMBIES.
The interesting thing to my mind about all this, actually, is that last night I wandered over to my erstwhile livejournal and posted up a bunch of extracts along with the commission pictures I've had done lately; I don't believe anyone read any of it, but it was an interesting task for me in that I realised everything? Was about love. There were seven or eight snippets, and they showed love in several different guises and forms, and...it made me think of my favourite Stephen King novel. Bag of Bones. I'm trying to work out how old I was when I read it; it was published in 1998, so I would have been sixteen, almost seventeen at the time? I say that only because this story is a horror by genre, but in the end...I always see it as a love story. For all the terror and gore and terrible reality of various sequences of the novel, it's about love. And I knew that even at sixteen, when I had not experienced love; I mention that mostly because I'm twenty-nine now and have still never known love, and have accepted that I never will. But I can still see it all around me, in what I read, in what I write, and just...in life.
Still, reading back over these different manifestations of love that I dug out last night...I start to think that love is in fact the deepest form of horror. How many evil acts are primarily driven by love? It boggles the mind, really. And I suppose it's why people tend to say that the true counterpart of love is indifference. Hate is still an obsession. And love is just another facet of obsession.
...obviously, my brain is broken. Damn Penumbra. ...I might have to go have a shower, curl up in bed with the laptop, and watch a little more of it even though I really should write out some of the ideas floating around my head in relation to Greywater. It's just been a horrible week. But while I was hunting out these examples of love in my writing, I did run across something else. As I said, I don't write much in the way of horror -- although I suppose Tea For Two, my late-blooming December short story success, was a loving Lovecraftian tribute -- but I adore creating atmosphere. And I like to think I caught a little of it here. Joy!