When SUSPIRIA first came out, I remembered seeing the trailer for it on TV. All you would see is a woman brushing her hair from behind and her singing, "Roses are red, violets are blue, the iris is a flower…..(something, something) SUSPIRIA!! After that, every time it came on, my sister and I would run from the room. Needless to say, since my mom was a horror lover we ended up seeing it at a matinee. I was 9 and my sister was 6.

Editor's note: That "something, something" was "The iris is a flower…that will mean the end of YOU!" as far as trailers and TV ads go this is one of the creepiest ever. Check it out!

Back in the day, there was a short series of old school horror story anthologies called SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK. Now, if the stories didn't scare you shitless as a kid (and they usually did), then Stephen Gammel's horrifying illustrations sure as hell got the job done. To this very day, there's a particular drawing that I can't bring myself to look at. The story was about a girl whose nightmare was coming true, and the illustration was that of a hideously obese woman with thin gangly arms, oily black hair, tiny black eyes, and an enormous smile. It doesn't sound so bad when I describe it, but trust me, it's pretty damn traumatizing for an eight year old. The book is sitting in my bookshelf as I type, and there's no way I'd take it out at night.

This isn't technically about a movie. It's about a documentary, which ran on Cinemax or HBO, called THE MAN WHO SAW TOMORROW. The documentary was narrated by ORSON WELLES, which is creepy enough.

It was about 1982, I was about 10 years old. I must have been at that very impressionable age, but this movie changed my life. The show started out saying that all Nostradamus' prophecies had come true: He'd predicted Napoleon, the US revolutionary war, Lincoln's assassination, Hitler and the Holocaust, Hiroshima, and the JFK assassination. So I had to believe that this guy was legit!

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In the summer of 1969 my twin sister and I were nine years old. My father took us to the drive in for a double feature: WILLARD and NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. I thought it was bad enough that the mean teenaged boys made rat noises when we walked to the concession stand during intermission, but that was nothing compared to how I felt when my father drove us through a cemetery on the way home and pretended to run out of gas. We screamed and screamed and screamed. To this day he insists that was the best way home, but we had never seen that cemetery before that night, and we never drove through it again. I can't watch NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (a personal favorite) without chuckling over that memory.