What Corrupted Me

I’d try to peek through the gaps between his fingers, attempting to piece together images through the tiny trickles of light and color that broke through the gaps between his knuckles. But that didn’t work very well, so I’d have to use my imagination to fill in the blanks.

And this is how I was corrupted, you see. Not because of the movies, exactly. But because I had to account for what I wasn’t seeing, based solely on everything that lead up to the darkness, and everything I heard while it encompassed me. I had to imagine what led from one of Dad’s “cuts” to another. —Mike Arnzen

What Corrupted Me (ReallyScarry.com)

My colleague writes about his father’s habit of taking him to scary movies and covering his eyes during the most extreme parts affected his development as a creative writer.