For two years of my life I only read horror books.
From the age of eight to the age of ten I was ravenous for this genre. I would stay up as late as possible reading under my covers, I would read at breakfast, read in the car, after soccer practice, all horror books. I read every horror book my school library had to offer, and when I finished with that I turned to my mother’s collection of Stephen King. I was obsessed.
At home my parents were annoyed, I’d always been an avid reader but this reading to the point of obsession (and keeping my sister, whom I shared a room with, up at night with my reading light). Still they encouraged my reading – reading is reading in their mind. At school though I was met with a less than thrilled response.
My primary school teacher was appalled that I was reading horror books. She was vocal in her distaste for the genre, and vocal in her distaste that I would even think about bringing those books to class. She told me I wasn’t allowed to read them in school and I could not count them as my at home reading. She told me to look for more appropriate reading material. I can’t recall why, maybe I blocked it out, maybe I was just so desperate to make the teacher happy and get a good grade that I gave into her demands (and by give in I just ended up reading ‘recommended books’ in tandem my horror books).
I’m still am unsure why she was so against this genre but frankly I couldn’t care less – her censorship only fueled me to read them more.