MRS VOORHEES BY NIGEL PARKIN

Back in 2016 and 2017 Ginger Nuts writer Nigel Parkin regularly contributed poems about horror films to SHOCK TILL YOU DROP. He relished the task of creating appropriate responses to as wide a range of films as possible; one week he would be expressing deep critical appreciation in odes to great classics, the next he would be vividly describing absurd moments of extreme lunacy in delirious tributes to high trash.  Next year he will be publishing a collection of these poems. He is also working on a new series, many of which will make their first appearance on this site. As a taster to his work we are going to give some of the originals a fresh outing, starting today with a dramatic monologue in the voice of Mrs Voorhees, perfectly timed for Friday the 13th!

So come with us, gaze into the waters of Crystal Lake, and prepare for a fresh encounter with one of horror cinema's great psychos...

Mrs Voorhees by nigel parkin 

This rictus grin has stayed on my face these
Past twenty years, like the shining surface
Of that lake in the moonlight, hiding all
The darkness beneath, the choking, the screams,
The wild thrashing and angry, urgent cries
Of someone sinking in the black water
Of time, breathing in years of grief
Until their lungs burst, head swells, eyes bulge, fixed
And frozen and fossilized by my rage.

That lake. Look. Look at its face. Calm, smiling,
Drawing you in, saying, ‘Trust me. I’ll look
After you,’ before grabbing you, dragging
You down, pulling, tearing, pounding, crushing,
A force of destruction, single-minded,
Taking great delight in the art of death.
It took my Jason, taught me all I know
About killing, about how to handle
The need to kill, how to go about it.

I carry the lake with me, its secrets,
Its hunger, its power, its heart, the still
Beating heart of my boy. He’s inside me,
Waiting, ready to rise up from the depths,
Calling instructions in a broken voice
From my weed-wrapped soul. ‘Kill them all, Mommy!’
Yes, Jason! Oh yes, I will! I’ve begun!
That girl this morning, who was she kidding?
Did she think it looked modest to cover
Her chest with that orange top underneath
The unbuttoned shirt? Modest, my ass! Hell!
It was there to catch eyes! To tempt! To lure!
She was heading to the camp for one thing,
The thing that brings them all, that got you killed!
Well I’ll stop them. Just like I stopped her!
You liked hearing her beg me didn’t you?

I heard you chuckling! And when I showed her
The knife I heard your sweet, gleeful whisper –
‘Go on, Mommy! Do it! Open her throat!
I want to see blood!’ I did it for you
Didn’t I, darling? Tonight there’ll be more.
So, my beautiful, restless, rotting boy,
Come. I’ll give you a night to remember…