, preferring the possibility of finding love than of being slashed. But my friends were horror connoisseurs. The scarier, the better.
After stuffing our faces with all the junk food that we could find, we held a seance, our hands gripping the glass in the middle of the homemade Ouija board that looked more like the product of a craft afternoon than anything that would conjure the dead. We giggled as the candles blew out. We gasped as the dog barked somewhere in the house. And we screamed as the glass moved towards a wobbly drawn G. We were obviously communicating with a spirit.
But it was still early, and it was still Friday the 13th, and so we huddled around the television with a pile of video cassettes someone had begged their older sibling to borrow from the local store. We unrolled our nylon sleeping bags and wriggled inside, still twitching a little from the glass moving, but generally feeling braver now.. The fact that I don’t remember suggests that it didn’t fulfil its purpose. But I vividly remember the film that we watched next.
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