I write horror. I write as dark and as disgusting as humanly possible. In the past, when I have been asked why I never really had an answer. It's something I've done since I was a child. Looking back I think the answer is simple. It's a coping mechanism. My readers enjoy the thrill and the excitement of the worlds I create and destroy. For me it helps to clear the junk out of my head.
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When I was in grade 10, I was woken up by something and drawn to my window. I saw this light outside and this thing. It somehow seemed to totally emenate light, yet it was dead quiet. Now, I have never walked in my sleep, never talked to myself (even as a child), never had imaginary friends. This thing was above the condo complex where we lived. I got really excited as I stood transfixed and was thinking that I had to get my parents because they had to see this...helicopter? Whatever? The lights were so weird. That's the last thing I remembered. I woke up in the morning. I still recalled vividly the events of the night before. I waited for my friend, who lived in the same condo complex, but at the end of the street. We walked to school together. The first thing she said to me was that she must have had some really weird dream, because she could have sworn that there was a UFO outside her window that night. Then she got odd and didn't want to talk about it. I don't exactly bring it up, because it's not like jobs take well to that sort of thing. It's okay to go pray to something once a week before an alter, but say that you saw a glowing light, and bam, you're nuts. Security clearance revoked, health check demanded.
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