Paranormal Activityis a crappy movie. Even crappier are the rest of the series. The crappiest are the spin-offs.
“Paranormal Entity– Did you like Paranormal Activitybut wish it had worse acting and a little T&A? Well…”
Anyway, despite the crappiness of the first movie, it did provide one of the scariest moments in my life. The scene was after the credits, shortly after the movie was turned off. Oh, you missed it? That’s because it wasn’t in the movie. Here’s the story:
The wife and I watch Paranormal Activity in bed (in bed), and aren’t impressed. Once it’s over, we turn off the TV and engage in the usual bravado that follows any horror movie: this was too obvious, we saw that coming, what didn’t cause us to jump (even though some of it did) and the like. Then, we turn the lights off and go to sleep.
Then I wake up.
I mean I really wake up.
I wake up and know something is amiss. I feel it. All my internal alarms are blaring, adrenalin swat teams are rushing in, and blood is filling my muscles while I decide on fight or flight. I know what’s wrong; my wife is sitting up at the edge of the bed, and she isn’t moving. If you’ve seen these movies you know what this means. This is it. Tonight, one of us will die.
We keep his and hers baseball bats by the sides of our bed for security and I’m now questioning my next move. I could roll on to my right side, grabbing with my left hand, and roll back over with a backswing. However, reaching up with my right hand, although more awkward, would take less movement maintaining stealth and ensuring a surprise attack.
I begin reaching with my right, just to get it in my hand. Just in case. Then, as my fingertips graze the worn wood of the bat, she begins to move.
“Wha…” Is all I get out.
I’m lying on my back, left hand across my chest and right reaching up past my head when my wife springs fully on to the bed and climbs over me on all fours, screaming. She is staring into me, mouth a yawning chasm to hell releasing sound like bats filling the room. Paralyzed by her she-demonry, all I can do is yell back. Our voices rise, husband and wife, joining together and break the curse. Lightning flashes and my wife rolls over onto her side of the bed.
The room begins to reappear as the dark specter is lifted from our consciousness. We lay side by side. Drained. Alive.
“What the hell are you doing?” Words are a struggle as I catch my breath.
“I needed to use the bathroom and I didn’t want to freak you out.”