Be afraid, be very afraid…

Hokay. So. When I was a young and naive teenager, I graduated from the Goosebumps series to Fear Street. A natural transition for someone who was used to devouring these books like Halloween candy corn. Later on I moved on to Poe, Lovecraft, Stephen King, assorted folk ghost stories, books on anecdotal evidence on vampires and werewolves, and so on, not to mention bad, bad horror movies – Stephen King adaptations, teenage series a la Urban Legend and Scream, video game adaptations, etc. Needless to say, I am an absolute sucker for horror, both good and bad. Horror has its own tropes, which can be both unsettling (given the context) and reassuring, or even comforting (because they’re always there). A while ago, on a flight to Europe, I started writing an essay on horror tropes. Perhaps one day I will finish it, or at least, you know, use it to actually write some horror fiction.

However, this post is not concerned with academic musings on the horror genre, or even with my own attempts at writing horror.

I used to work in a hospital. Every month there would be a second hand book sale in the hospital to collect money for various medical charities. I always used to pick up five or more books at each sale (quick note: I love books. I collect books. I hope to one day own a little bookshop. I especially love second hand books – the colour of the paper, the old editions, the smell, the pencilled-in ex-owners’ names on the title page, etc.) At one of the last sales I attended, I managed to secure two Fear Street books. Like a lot of my loot, these were stuck on one on my many bookshelves, and promptly forgotten about.

Until about a week ago.

I picked one at random and read it on the train on my way to work. It was…so, so bad. Words almost fail me. The atrocious attempt at a historical setting (American Civil War period), the stereotypical beautiful (but stupid) sister and the ugly (but smart) sister, the dark mansion with grim, creepy servants, the unrealistic, improbable, tacked-on violence, the Gasp! moment in every second line of dialogue…If I was trying to find the worst teen horror book ever written I think this would be a serious contender.

Without further ado, I give you…Forbidden Secrets:

Look at it. Really. Look at it. It’s…it’s all there. The beautiful, vapid, innocent and troubled-looking Southern Belle; the dark forest about to engulf her; the huge, bleeding black rose; the broken doll with creepy dead eyes that look right through you. This cover is an absolute masterpiece, and completely encapsulates the very essence of the book.

Next in line – The Boy Next Door:

The creepy stalker dude, the (again: beautiful, unsuspecting) girl, the tagline (“They were flirting – with death”) all seem very promising. I hope the dude turns out to be be some sort of undead rotting zombie from Mars. Gasp!

Stay tuned!

(For Goosebumps covers, visit Gamebooks. Did I mention I also used to be a huge collector of Garbage Pail Kids cards? For a full picture collection, visit the Garbage Pail Kids Archive.)