They say the arts are therapeutic. Some events are so traumatic that they get buried deep inside the dark depths of your psyche, unable that you are to face them. But the arts can help you heal the trauma, by letting you express yourself creatively and challenge those painful memories.
As we are nearing FrightFest, it is time to face my old demon, an event that occurred at last year's edition and got branded on my brain. I have only mentioned it to a few trusted people, in hushed tones, looking in the oblivion at the Lovecraft-like, unfathomable horrors that the memories conjured. Even now, nearly 12 months later, it is too raw to be openly talking about them. I could have drawn the event, I could have sung it. Instead, I have decided to write a poem about it. And I hope I will finally heal.
There once was a horror film festival
It was a world of thrills, it was a scream
But what was to happen at the interval
Tore my soul and snapped my dream
There was the usual crowd of horror cliques
I even bumped into Tom Six
And as I sat down waiting for Tulpa
There came the offensive item that made me go aaaahhh
For here she was, the lady had brought in a Chinese takeaway
The horror, the horror, no way! I hear you say
As much as I love Chinese food
Is a cinema, for food, really the right hood?
Popcorn, hotdogs, Chinese banquets
When at a cinema, you must leave at bay
Please, festival goers, I implore you
Or I'll scoop your brain and eat the goo
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