The Writers at KHC Celebrate Valentine's Day with Love Letters to their First Horror Crushes!

In celebration of Valentine's Day, we at KHC thought we would have a little fun...

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...Valentine's day is a time for love, which means it's also a time to celebrate our love for horror! A collection of writers at KHC decided to write up love letters and poems to their first horror crush! And yes, some of them get weird. 

​Enjoy!

Mark Gonzales to Elvira

As with many people in their 30s, my introduction to horror came in the form of late night television broadcasts of older horror films. I remember a night when I was 10 or so--up late, by myself, and finding myself watching a sci-fi/horror film that must have been The Mighty Gorga. Part way through the film, a beautiful temptress popped up on my tv. She was dressed like the most dangerous of Dracula’s Brides but spoke like my eldest brother’s girlfriend. Yes, I had stumbled across a re-broadcast of an episode of Elvira’s Movie Macabre. That night, I experienced what many people have commented on about horror, the connection between horror and eroticism. Before hearing somebody else elucidate the much written about association and long before I could even understand it, I felt it.  Elvira is far from the first Horror Host, indeed, there is a rich tradition of these hosts that I hope to write extensively about, but she is easily the most successful, wittiest, and iconic of her ilk. 

Craig Ranallo to Michael from The Lost Boys

I think my first true horror crush was Jason Patric as Michael in The Lost Boys. Looking back now, and taking into account the subtext imbued in the film, it seems almost a cliche.  The narrative of The Lost Boys itself is essentially the parallel and parody of the traditional “coming of age by coming out" narrative of queer cinema. The tension of the film arises from Michael’s struggle to fight off the growing internal desire to “feed” and join the clan of vampire biker boys, much in a way that a young homosexual (aka me) would struggle with his sexual identity and “coming out of the closet” or keeping that side of himself hidden. How could I not identify and swoon hard for that chiseled, poofy-haired 80's Adonis? 

Mary Kay McBrayer to Ardeth Bay from The Mummy

My dearest Ardeth,

From the moment I watched you let the desert kill Rick Connell, watched him stagger terrified and thirsty out of Hamunaptra, I wanted to know what wisdom your eyes held, and the meaning of the tattoos beneath them. But it matters little: I love your lust for life, your childlike delight at clinging to the wing of a private plane, your honor to the duty of serving as Magi. I love that you suffer no bullshit. Sometimes I hear you saying in my dreams, “We warned you to leave this place or die, and now you may have killed us all.” Be mine, Ardeth Bay. For all eternity… since death is only the beginning.

Paul Bauer to Gale Weathers' Hair in Scream

I
In the beginning, there was brown
Our Lady of Woodsboro Town
Boom, it’s true, the Bitch went down
But, like the phoenix, rose a’gain
To save us with her frosted mane

II
And the heavenly chorus cried
“Let there be streaks”
This Debbie Salt knows not
To whom she speaks
Thus entered we a golden age
When brassy streaks were all the rage

III
Alright, now everyone’s allowed mistakes
But sis, we insist you pump the brakes
Why hast thou snatch’ed our wigs so?
These bangs, these bangs have got to go
(but secretly I love them tho)

IV
To Woodsboro Town, from whence she came
And don she now, a cougar’s mane
To exit stage with style and grace
Gale Weathers, Queen of Earth and Space

Katelyn Nelson to Edgar Allan Poe

My dearest Edgar
​
I rest in the house of Usher, my heart tells tales of only you.
Time passes as the pendulum swings, the night as black as raven’s wings.
Our love was more than love, and you are out to sea.
The pit I lie in is cold and damp but pray remember me.
I can feel the floorboards creak, they tell me nevermore I’ll speak.
I am the sleeper only you can wake.
My heart was always yours to take.
Look to the stars and drink to me, Amontillado sweet.
Listen, on the wind, the softest whisper nears--
It’s me, calling out my dear—I’ll wait for your return
‘evermore.

Amylou Ahava to Chainsaws

Ode to the Chain Saw

Shall I compare thee to a killer's rage?
Thou art more bloody and psychopathic:
Chain Saws rip through those who are of teen-age.
Your metal teeth go through their flesh so slick. 
Sometimes too loud your growl of death roars
And often is your clean destruction feared;
As from every jagged wound the blood pores,
From all victims your power is revered. 
But thy internal gears will still clatter,
A machine of death so perfect and pure. 
When you rev-up, their insides will splatter,
Despite your noise, the youth you will lure. 
As long as there are fans who stay obsessed ,
Oh, chain saw, you will always be the best.

Matt Konopka to John Carpenter's Christine

My dearest Christine,
 
I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you, and your cherry red lips kissed me through the screen. My heart danced to the tune of your sweet music, and my eyes gleamed, almost blinding, like yours.
 
I cried when I saw how much they hurt you, and my heart skipped a beat when you ran over Buddy Repperton’s ass like a banshee out of hell. Sure, I was jealous of Arnie, that shitter, but I knew it was always me you were really singing to. “You’re mine,” you said. You’re mine.
 
There have been many since you, and you may not be my number one anymore, but you will always be my first horror film.
 
Just like Rock n Roll, our love will never die.

Happy Valentine's Day from everyone at Killer Horror Critic!