I loved monster movies when I was a kid.
When one harkens back to the classic monsters, there are really only three types that have literary legs. At least, I am unaware of any boom in Godzilla-based novels.
I don’t count ghosts as monsters because, well, they’re ghosts.
Frankenstein was for all intents and purposes, a zombie, as was the Mummy; though neither was of the more popular brain-consuming variety.
Aliens of any variety don’t count as monsters because wherever they come from, they’re just regular. On their home-worlds, they’d just be Joe the Blob, Fred the Predator, Alice the Alien, Marsha the Body-Snatcher, etc.
Werewolves, vampires, and zombies each have a literary niche in the horror genre, and each has a dedicated fan-base. I marvel at the idea that of all the monsters ever created, these alone should have flowered in books as they have.
What do they have that other monsters don’t? Why are these guys drowning in groupies while the Creature from the Black Lagoon treks back from the mailbox empty-handed day after day?
Vampires have a kind of sex appeal. I’m not talking about sparkly-skinned angsty teen vampires, but the hypnotically seductive killers who actually get around to drinking blood.
They have style and flair. They are smart and dangerous. In short, they’re the cool kids everyone wants to hang out with.
Check out these vampire chicks. There are worse ways to go.
Werewolves are something else. I get the feeling that while vampires rule the night, the night rules werewolves. From Lon Chaney to David Naughton, werewolves have been portrayed as remorseful killers. I guess with great evil comes great responsibility. Bummer. I’ll take the vampires.
Zombies, I don’t quite get. I know lots of people watch The Walking Dead Have Talent, or whatever that show is. I don’t. I just don’t get zombies. What kind of lame-ass monster can be dispatched with a shovel to the head? That’s just not right. If you bonk a vampire or a werewolf on the head with a shovel, it won’t even slow them down.
I suppose with zombies, it is their unrelenting nature and sheer number that reckons in. You can only swing a shovel for so long before you need to take a break and thenβgoodbye brains. They need the weight of numbers though. A single vampire or werewolf could pretty much wreak havoc on a whole community. Any yokel with a shotgun can take out one zombie.
All these monsters share one characteristic: they started out as humans. It makes me wonder if there is something to that factor alone. Otherwise, why not trolls and ogres? Surely they hung around the same dark forbidding landscapes and terrorized some of the same villages.
I think we have to prepare for the possible demise of our three faves, though. We need new monsters. So, let’s start pitching some ideas, people. No ghosts or devils or any of that crap. Gimme a fresh monster, something catchy. Whaddya got?
…but first, I’ll need an Abby Normal brain…
Not til you finish with the one you’ve already got, young lady!
Are you calling Laurie a zombie?
It was the only way to get around the OSHA regulations.
MIRAJ
The story of the Miraj comes from somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and it’s probably the funniest magical beast ever invented. It’s easy to imaging two or three hard working witches sitting over a cup of strong palm wine, discussing the hard times, wondering what new enterprise they can come up with. They must have had a good sense of humor, because the Miraj was a killer unicorn rabbit. It looked innocent enough. It was large, yellow, and had a long black horn in the middle of its forehead. The animals around it knew the danger, though, and ran for their lives whenever they saw it coming. The Miraj could eat anything, even animals much larger than itself, such as pigs and cattle. The witch’s job was to charm away and control the Miraj when she noticed one or two infesting the neighborhood. The villagers never saw a Miraj themselves, obviously, but they preferred to keep it this way. After all, what were they paying the witch for? Every profession has its hazards, right? Let the witch face the deadly killer unicorn rabbit!
From Chapter Seven of my book: http://www.pantheon.org/areas/featured/witchcraft/chapter-7.html
Rabbit/unicorn? Doesn’t make me scared, but it sounds delicious. π
Oh I love the idea of a killer bunny!
Ah, the innocence of this reply… he is quite able to eat you in one rabbit-style crunch….
I’m a fellow MONSTER fan!
I can’t imagine my childhood without “Creature Features” on TV.
Cool! *high fives*
I don’t get werewolves either. These days, all you have to do to guarantee I won’t read a book is put a werewolf in it. And books where the protagonist is one or dates one? No. Just… no.
Coming up with a new kind of monster, now that’s a tough one. I’m not any good at thinking up sinister things, which is why I write space opera, not horror. π I’m with Laurie on that one, let’s go find an Abby Normal brain…
If you can think up aliens, you can think up monsters. π
Hmm. Some of my aliens are scary-LOOKING and not actually scary-aggressive, but maybe you have a point.
Oddly, the only monsters I can really think of would be some twist to one of the faves, sort of like a succubus is vampiric in nature as it sucks life from its victims. Or the monster could be that random “always negative” guy that sucks the life out of a room just by walking into it.
Hey…is that a shot?
Politician turned banker, perhaps?
Little too scary! @_@
Ouch. Scary but definitely not sexy. π
What about cows who have gained incredible intelligence from grazing on a toxic waste field? And now they burp poison gas?
Mutant cows? Now I’m hungry again.
I’m no good at monsters. π The only thing I can come up with is an infinite series of cloned Serial Moms [old movie with Kathleen Turner?].
I’m sick of vampires, werewolves and ogres, too. That’s why I read mythology. π
The Slavs had other critters that were just as scary as good ol’ Drac. The vila was a beautiful water nymph who lived in rivers or lakes and lured men to their deaths; the leshi was a forest protector who caused humans to lose their way in the woods, never to be seen again; and even in the family bathhouse, a bannik might decide to scald or smother a lone bather. Have a nice soak! π
I love Baba Yaga as well. No witch like her!