The Irrational Fears of Children (or what monsters we really should have been scared of in our younger years)

Re-watching childhood cartoons is a curious business. Obviously I’ve never stopped watching cartoons, but there is a crucial distinction between cartoons aimed at children and cartoons aimed at adults (a distinction that can be best summed up in the first five minutes of episode 1 of Elfen Lied). But something has been sticking in my mind lately, and I’m finding it rather perplexing. So as I always do, I’m going to talk about it to anyone who gives a shit, and use the exercise to help me put my thoughts in order.

When you’re a child, everything is terrifying. You’re a tiny little blob of jelly that’s been parked on planet Earth, and you don’t know anything (in spite of what you might have tried to tell your parents). TV, of course, was your ‘safe’ window to the outside world, teaching you the stuff you needed to know, like how to quickly navigate a swimming pool to collect floating stars, or how to best trap small creatures in a little red and white ball.

But in between the fun stuff, there was the stuff that terrified you into cowering behind cushions. Things like mummies creeping out of tombs in the middle of a deserted museum at night, or catching sight of spectral figures in mirrors. After being properly introduced to vampires (in The Simpsons *groan*) I developed a terrible fear of them, which prompted me to sleep with my neck covered by the duvet.

Dear Christ, I was a wimp when I was little! Why was I scared of these monsters at all?

I’m not talking about the knowledge that the monsters are ‘fictional’ and ‘only in the TV’. I’m talking about logically. Monsters from my childhood make no sense. I was obviously far more impressionable when I was five years old. Gluing me to the screen was child’s play (literally) providing you had access to an entire cement truck full of gunge.

But impressionable or not, why on earth did I fear these thing? Even as a child, on my tiny legs that were of no use to me at all in PE lessons, I was easily capable of outrunning a mummy. And what exactly was their method of attack if they did catch you? They don’t eat you, or turn you to stone. All I ever heard of mummies doing was potentially cursing you, which is a rubbish method of attack. Every child knows that curses can be broken with relative ease, and the mummy still has to get hold of you first. Homestuck fans are more terrifying than this, and that’s only because it’s more difficult to escape them!

Ghosts I don’t understand at all. Now in my adult years, I’m more fascinated by them than anything else, but when I was a child, curtain twitches in my dark bedroom used to make me scared...of what? I think to myself now. All a ghost can do is follow you around like a particularly persistent ex-boyfriend. Sometimes they pop out from boxes or right in front of you while you’re in the shower (yup, definitely sounding like an ex-boyfriend). So they can startle you – but they can’t scare you.

Often they do start airing their grievances and complaining about perceived slights against them to anyone who will listen, rather like those ladies who spend every free moment of their time writing in to the local newspaper to complain about unkempt hedgerows, and vapour trails making the sky look untidy. Annoying as fuck, but ultimately harmless.

And vampires? Bloody hell, where do I start? Gone are the days when a vampire breaking into your house and sucking your blood was a credible threat. Now they sparkle and sit in corners feeling sorry for themselves.

But even if Stephanie Meyer hadn’t come along and ruined vampires for us, there is a limit to how far vampires can be considered a threat, logically. Now I might be a heavy sleeper, but I think even I’d notice two fangs being stuck into my throat. Your neck is one of the most sensitive areas on the body (that’s why it’s an erogenous zone for most women, and some men) and anyone who has had an injection knows how much even a tiny needle stings, because you’re pushing something sharp in through an organ that’s specifically designed to keep shit like this out. Now imagine having two very large needles being jabbed into one of the most sensitive areas of your body. Even someone on a heavy dose of sedative is going to feel it enough to crack the glass of water from their bedside table over the side of the vampire’s head.

And even if you were drowsy enough not to notice being bitten, you’ve still got to drink the vampire’s blood in return to complete the transformation process (vampires apparently adhering to the same laws of equivalent exchange as alchemists). And humans just don’t have the stomach for blood – literally. That’s why when someone has a nosebleed, you’re supposed to make them lean forwards not backwards – it’s not just to make you look less daft. It’s because if you swallow that much blood, you’re probably going to throw it back up. So the transformation would fail regardless.

And this is exactly what I’m going to tell my kids. Obviously I’m going to have to check under the bed and in the cupboard anyway (after all, mummy is a grownup, and doesn’t know any better). But there are far scarier things out there, which I am convinced will enter the realms of cartoon nasties by the time I’m ready to conceive. Werewolves and zombies are still credible threats to a child in my mind (they can and will eat you, even if they can be foiled by silver or moving faster than a brisk trot). But things like the Weeping Angels and Slenderman will also be the nightmares of my children’s generation. Creatures that sneak up on you, and actually pose a threat to your person, and have the potential to separate you from your loved ones (or your head from the rest of your body).

And probably a good thing too. These are at least things that children have a rational reason to be scared of.

Shuffle over boys. There are new monsters in town.

(I was going to put pictures of the monsters down here, but frankly, the prospect of google imaging them terrifies me).