We've already established that I'm not predisposed to feel kindly towards movie children. But the creepy ones are even worse, whether they be ghosts, demons or mediums, boys or girls - as long as they're pre-teen, all it takes is a head tilt and a weird line delivery and I'm scrambling for a cushion to protect me. Throw in a head full of teeth when your back is turned, and all sense entirely deserts me.
I'd always thought I was quite cool when it came to nature, and that people who screeched over mice were attention-seeking tits. Until one ran over my bare foot in the living room of my first flat and climbed the wall-hanging I was standing next to (I don't know why this bit felt so much more horrific, but I'm shuddering even as I type), instantly turning me into a cartoon lady who spent the next hour climbing the furniture and shrieking in tongues.
Shutting bathroom mirrors in movies
That was just one of the little horrors. Imagine opening your barn door to find millions of them pouring out...
Although it's a complete cliche, nothing makes me jump more than the old 'see someone in the mirror' bit.
I've now come to expect this every time someone shuts a bathroom mirror in a movie. To NikNak's dismay, this doesn't mean that it no longer freaks me out, but that I get tense and yell whether someone's there or not.
I love watching the ocean, whether it be in person or on the telly, but being in it makes me very, very nervous. I don't have to be in particularly deep either for my heart to start racing, as anyone who's seen me yelp at a piece of seaweed or a tiny fish brushing my foot can attest, but coax me out a little further and things start to get interesting.
Existenz back portals
Snorkelling once on holiday, I'd been under the surface for barely five seconds when NikNak's air bubble brushed my face, and I clawed his mask off in my haste to escape. A view like this only ever makes me think of all the ways in which I'm about to die. Get me out. NOW.
Whilst enjoying it, I still spent most of my time watching Existenz battling a severe case of the heebie-jeebies, thanks to those squicky back portals. I'm even doing it now, just thinking about them. I just...can't...
Both in movies and in real life, I have a thing about injections. Considering I seem to be able to get tattooed with no problem, I have no idea what it is about injections that makes me so prone to passing out, squeezing people's hands hard enough to crush them, or crying. Or sometimes all three. Hollywood's love of showing me intravenous drug use in intimate detail therefore ensures that I get to have frequent conniptions without having to go anywhere near a doctor's office.
I watch an awful lot of sci-fi, which is only really surprising if you know how disturbing I find the idea of people floating about in space. Those people being in a space-ship is wibble-inducing enough, but being outside the space-ship? Just drifting, or worse...twirling off into nothing, induces a mind-bending, eye-rolling, sweat-inducing terror that means I'm probably not going to be able to make it through the upcoming Gravity without medical assistance.
I'm usually pretty immune to movie violence and can watch the goriest, bloodiest stuff going with barely a whimper. Except when it comes to wrists. Any scene in which someone's wrists are cut immediately makes the room get a little bit fuzzier and far away. If it's in a bath-tub? Game over. I can't bring myself to post a gif.
It doesn't matter that I'm now 34 and that the base of my bed actually touches the floor, I still find myself jumping the last bit just in case the thing under the bed gets me.
That's it, I need a stiff drink...