Scary Stories Curing Stage Fright?

Scary Readers Theatre
by Suzanne I. Barchers
Libraries Unlimited, 1994

In my days as a children’s librarian and as mentor to early readers I started to come across articles and happen into conversations about Reader’s Theatre. While I’ve heard of the concept before as another mode for actors to express themselves, blocking and performing with scripts instead of memorizing lines, I hadn’t known much about it as a device for education. Looking through listservs I started to see more and more use of reader’s theatre as a way for children to practice reading aloud in a nonthreatening, fun way. Not only that, the concept helps foster reading comprehension, as oftentimes children are given the freedom to take an existing story and adapt it to suit their interpretation or interests. Exercises such as this can help develop strong narrative skills. I think this type of set up can do wonders for the reluctant reader, those wishing to enhance their writing skills (through adapting a story), as well as the shy public speaker. Without the threat of forgetting lines, with encouragement from teachers and librarians, and with plenty of opportunities to practice, get creative, and to explore, I think Reader's Theatre is a positive way to promote literacy among youth.

This being a scary books blog I just had to find out if there were books out there, with an odd or spooky twist, that followed the principles of reader’s theatre. I was looking to see if there was a book that was suitable for school age children and one that gave them opportunities for freedom of expression through writing, creating/adapting scripts, dramatic expression, etc. I couldn’t find anything at my local library but through my university library I found an electronic resource for Scary Readers Theatre by Suzanne I. Barchers. I was stoked to find a scary book that was specifically designed for a reader’s theatre project. This book provided scripted adaptations of 30 popular scary stories, myths, multinational folktales, and urban legends. Due to the methodical nature of the scripts, sometimes the stories seemed a bit dry and unappealing. Hopefully, in such instances, this is where a child could unleash their creativity to save the story by employing an interesting vocal tactic or modifying the flow of the text. This book employed a rating system of scary, scarier, and scariest and it seemed to have a good mix of stories on all levels for elementary and middle school age children. I think this book was a good first find for a reader’s theater piece, especially since it takes away the pressure of script adaptation. In that sense, the work is already done for you. This book is a great start, but I hope there is more out there. If not, we need to make some! These types of books are great to help encourage literacy, with a spooky bent, in schools, libraries, and after-school programs.

The Outer Darkness is a Delicacy!

The Monster Who Ate Darkness

by Joyce Dunbar; illustrated by Jimmy Liao

Cambridge, Mass. : Candlewick Press, 2008.

Move over, Shoggoth, here comes... The Monster Who Ate Darkness is a charming tale about a horrible little creature from under a little boy's bed, who eats all of the darkness in the universe, leaving nothing but a wasteland of stark, unforgiving light in its wake. Thankfully, the story has a happy ending, but not until many adorable tears have been shed.

Jo-Jo is terrified of darkness, fearing that there are monsters lurking in the shadows and beneath his bed. Naturally there is one; just a speck of a thing who is cute and cuddly and not at all terrifying when we first meet him. The Monster is hungry, and soon discovers that the only thing that will satisfy his appetite is darkness (note: "darkness sandwiches" = best lunch ever). So he does Jo-Jo a favor, and starts devouring all the darkness in the room.

You got nothin'!

However, his hunger is so immense that he ends up eating all the darkness, everywhere, disrupting the natural order of things and leaving all the animals confused. The monster becomes lonely, lost on a far planet in the stark light of an empty universe, until he hears Jo-Jo weeping in the distance, unable to sleep for lack of darkness. The monster returns to the boy, and holds him, singing him a "darkness lullaby" (which I imagine must sound something like this). As the darkness oozes out of a cone in his head, he shrinks back down as Jo-Jo falls asleep in his arms, until finally the story closes with the boy sleeping with the now-tiny monster nestled in his arms.

This story can be appreciated on a number of psychological levels. For one, it turns nighttime into an adventure; still full of monsters, but comforting in its own way. So, definitely a bedtime story for the kids who don't want to stop believing, but still need a decent night's sleep. The monster isn't evil, just hungry and oblivious, which makes his antics adorable even as he pulls the stars down from the sky. Jo-Jo, meanwhile, restores the natural order of things by embracing his inner darkness (thus, a supervillain is born! haha...). The illustrations are equally enchanting, in many ways telling a story all their own. Artist Jimmy Liao has a talent for drawing the cute with the horrible in the same breath, and the monster is truly a blend of both as he transforms from a kittenish little mite to a bloated monstrosity (also cute), and back again.

A Little Like This...

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On a side note, I came across this interesting quote from the Q&A section on Joyce Dunbar's website:

"There's also too much cuteness for my liking. I write cute stories myself but this reflects what publishers accept rather than my range as a writer. But this really is a golden age of children's books and you can't expect to publish only the best."

This is part of Dunbar's response to a question about whether she had any complaints as a writer, about publishing and about being a children's author. I personally feel that it speaks to the sort of stories we like to talk about, here at SB/SC; things that break out of the mold, and might be a little frightening, provocative or challenging than what we typically find on the children's shelves of libraries and bookstores, things that are thrilling, and maybe a little more dangerous than cute.

More Dangerous than Cute

The things that make a story compelling are not always things that are comforting, and I worry at times that many of us shy too quickly from introduction our children (or the children around us) to fear in tiny doses. Not that I think we should go around scaring the tuna salad out of toddlers just to see them cry, but an important element in facing fear is the consequential feeling of empowerment we are left with afterwards, once we realize that we have outlived our momentary fear and become stronger for its passing. Children learn more than mere vocabulary from the stories we give them, they learn to live with complexity, ambiguity, distress; and in the end, maybe, they learn to sleep at night by holding the things they were once terrified of closest to their hearts.

PS: If you're looking for more about The Monster Who Ate Darkness, there's a great, thought-provoking review in The New York Times. Enjoy!

Tails, You're It

The Tailypo: A Ghost Story
Told by Joanna C. Galdone
Sandpiper, 1984

Using a misappropriated or a stolen item to build the suspense in a story is a common one in scary books for youth. A character either purposely or unwittingly comes into possession of an item, article, or appendage and the rightful owner of said item, article, or appendage slowly but certainly seeks revenge. Sometimes this revenge is with not so savory results. This storytelling framework is the one employed in a classic children’s scary picture book called The Tailypo: A Ghost Story. Whether or not this is an actual ghost story or just a scary story (for I feel the creature seeking its tail is not necessarily a ghost) can be debated, but nonetheless, this is a smooth and suspenseful tale for young schoolchildren.

The story opens with a lone woodsy cabin. We meet our main character, an elderly man, who lives a hermit-like existence deep in the forest with his three hounds. He lives simply and self-sufficiently. He seems to be a worn out shadow of a once rugged woodsman, the type that is honest, not inclined to superstition, and hearty to the core. After he hears a strange creature in the woods and scratching outside, and eventually in his own cabin, the woodsman strikes out to abolish the creature but instead only cuts off the creature's tail; his tailypo. From this point onward the tale crescendos with the creature calling out in a spooky verse for his tailypo until we fall upon a silent, yet telling scene in the final pages.

The Tailypo is a classic example of a spooky American folktale. The setting, the characters, the tone, and the illustrations are evocative of Appalachia or the Tetons. The rhythm of the tale makes it a great read aloud and storytelling piece. I would venture to guess, since versions of this story have been told for decades, that the first author of this tail didn't see Zombieland. The rules created by Columbus for zombie invasions definitely apply here. Had our woodsman executed rule #4, the doubletap, on our frightening critter instead of just chopping off his tale we would end up with a cheerful woodsman donning a tailypo skin cap and lounging with his hounds instead of an empty cabin and a possibly still at large demonic being roaming the forested mountain range. Well, in any event, it is a delightful little spooky story.

Spaghetti, Squash, and One Hungry Spook

The Ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam
By Angela Shelf Medearis
New York: Scholastic Press, 1997

In this book, as can be the case in scary stories, the spookiest part is the anticipation. We get worried about the suspense and get overwhelmed with fear of what happens next. Or as our character Chef Dan from The Ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam might say, we get caught up in a plot that thickens like standing fatback in a fry pan.

In this story, a brave chef takes up the challenge to spend the night in a haunted house. It is told that in this house lives a horrible ghost and anyone who can spend the night in the house without fleeing will rid the house of the ghost forever. To sweeten the deal, the realtor in charge of the house offers a hefty reward for anyone who can cleanse the property of its supernatural resident. Dan enters the haunted house hopeful and excited, with an armful of groceries to keep him cooking throughout the night.

The storyline builds rhythmically and quickly in this picture book. In the style of short stories like What Do You Come For? and Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! (both short folktales retold by Alvin Schwartz in Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark), the ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam appears piece by piece. With each turn of the page, we see a new incarnation of the spook and a more intense feeling of fear registers with our beloved chef. As we get closer and closer to seeing the entire ghost, the suspense builds and readers wonder what will be Chef Dan’s fate upon meeting the ghost in full form. While the first face-to-face meeting shows a cowering chef and a very intimidating ghost, readers will be surprised by Dan's craftiness as he appeases the spirit and the two forge a friendship in a light-hearted and silly climax.

The watercolor illustrations in this text do a wonderful job of representing the soul of both Chef Dan and Sifty Sifty Sam. Dan is wrapped in warm layers of whites, yellows, browns, and pinks. Sifty Sifty Sam is portrayed with cool blends of blues, whites, grays, and black. Throughout the book you will notice this contrast between the ghost and Chef Dan. This artistic element plays upon the underlying theme of the differences in the realm of the living and the realm of dead. Overall I think this was a fun and quick picture book that would be appropriate to share with children of varying ages.

Not Your Parents' Monster Mash

Boogie Knights
by Lisa Wheeler; illustrated by Mark Siegel
New York : Atheneum Books for Young Readers, ©2008

Boogie Knights is a delightfully silly book, and more than a little deranged. A young prince wakes to find his castle of full of terrible monsters and creatures of the night... all of whom are dancing! One by one, the seven knights who guard the castle are drawn into the party, only to be swept up in the merriment themselves.

The best part of this book is its visual musicality. The imagery begins in gray scale, but as each knight succumbs to the urge to dance, the pages become splashed over with colors and laughter. In the end, everyone ends up dancing the night away; and the seven knights return to their posts drenched in color, while the little prince sleeps with a smile on his face.

Lisa Wheeler and Mark Siegel (who worked together before in Seadogs: An Epic Ocean Operetta) explain the motivation behind the creation of this book far better than I ever could in this handy little video:


Enjoy the momentary tingle of fear, then go dancing!

You've Been Laminated!

The Librarian From the Black Lagoon
by Mike Thaler
Pictures by Jared Lee
Scholastic Inc., 1997

Being young and curious about the world is a great thing. But sometimes, with that curiosity there is fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the possibilities.

In a cautious and kooky picture book, The Librarian From the Black Lagoon, author Mike Thaler introduces young children to a new adventure; going to the library. There are rumors afoot. Horrible, cruel, and disturbing rumors of a monstrous librarian with a beastly personality who glues children to chairs, laminates them if they talk, and entices them with a “petting zoo” of porcupines and piranha fish. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. With such a wicked librarian loose in the stacks, all who enter must wonder, will they ever come back alive?

Exploring fear of the unknown and taking that concept to a silly extreme, Thaler produces a picture book that plays right into a child’s psyche. Children swap stories, funny and horrific alike, and utilizing this tool of the bubble gum set, the author creates a tale that exploits the stereotype of the shushing librarian and the vulnerability of a grade school age child. I think most of people can relate to this depiction. If not with a librarian as the central figure, at least some type of authority figure that was a mysterious and stern creature that gave us the willies before we realized what a helpful and gentle soul they were.

With it being national library card sign-up month and with all the wee ones heading back to school I thought it the perfect time to share a story such as this. It’s a little suspenseful, a little spooky, and overall, a little silly. What a great formula for a shared reading experience.

Personal Note: I used to be terrified of the librarian at my elementary school. She was tight-lipped with a thin penciled frown. It wasn’t until my sophomore year in school, when I was working as a student assistant in the library, that I realized this mean looking lady was just a shy woman who was more comfortable dealing with catalog cards than children. We warmed up to each other quickly and were great friends until she passed away to a terminal illness. I guess what I’m trying to say is, give things a chance, even if they seem scary or uncomfortable. You just never know what lies beneath the surface.

What is Lurking Behind the Walls?

The Wolves in the Walls

by Neil Gaiman

Illustrations by Dave McKean

Harper Collins, 2003

The Wolves in the Walls, is a wild story with a level-headed heroine. The premise of the book plays on basic fears (home intrusion, fears of childhood fantasy) and takes the reader on a heart-thumping journey.

Lucy and her trusty pig puppet heard noises coming from inside the walls. While unsuccessfully trying to convince her family that the noises are coming from wolves in the walls, she is also introduced to an apparently well known axiom. A warning, if you were. “If the wolves come out of the walls, then it’s all over.” Her family doesn’t take her too seriously, even though Lucy is utterly convinced it is wolves inside the walls. Yet, despite her family’s flippant responses to her worries, there is an imminent sense of danger that they all seem to accept, either openly or subconsciously.

And then, one night, that danger awakens in a horrible way when the wolves finally do come out of the walls. The family flees the house and surrenders their home and possessions to the vicious, wily canines. Even though they are left to sleep in the garden, the entire family is safe, all except for Lucy’s puppet, the one entity that trusted her about the wolves. As her family is suggesting new, and wacky, places to live, Lucy decides she must get her puppet back. Upon stealthily re-entering the house and seeing the disrespectful actions of the four-legged fiends, Lucy resolves herself and convinces her family to take back what is theirs. Following is a brave conquest and a surprise twist ending.

This book is yet another amazing creation from author Neil Gaiman and illustrator Dave McKean. Gaiman’s writing is skillful and flows well, despite the twisted tale he is weaving. McKean’s illustrations compliment the story perfectly. His mixed media artwork emphasizes the chaotic plotline of this book. On one page you might see a dynamic ink drawing, while the next is a mixed-material collage. This type of artistic style suits the characters and the storyline.

The main character in this story reminds me of some of the Greek heroes. Lucy is not a hero in this story because she is superhuman or is untouched by fear. Her heroism lies in the fact that she experiences fear, terror even, yet steadfastly rises above it. Just as I’m sure Theseus was terrified when he went to slay the Minotaur, Lucy was when she went to win back her home from the wolves. Taking the reigns of her family and acknowledging the importance of allegiance to ones home and ones family, Lucy swallows her fear and accepts the daunting task of winning her stomping grounds back, as well as her puppet.

This story is great, not only for its wonderful writing and ferocious illustrations, but also because it teaches a few important lessons. Children learn that they can be heroes and leaders in their own family units. It was Lucy who first noticed, believed in, and eventually defeated the wolves. This can show children that they too can take active roles in their own lives and in their own safety. Adults can learn to take stock in what their children say. Sometimes we are so swift to dismiss things that children say just because it seems like nonsense or we can’t make hide nor hair of it. Perhaps we need to listen more intently when little mouths speak. I would recommend this book as a read-aloud or read together book with adults and young readers or pre-readers.

Too Much Strawberry Junky Business

The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher
by Molly Bang
Aladdin Papberbacks, ©1996
Four Winds Press, ©1980

The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher is a suspenseful and delightful picture book. This Caldecott Honor winning wordless picture book follows the Grey Lady’s frightful trek home from the produce market with a pint of fresh, juicy strawberries. Upon leaving the market she is being relentlessly stalked by a greedy perpetrator known only as the “Strawberry Snatcher.”

As the book opens, the reader is instantly attracted to the pleasure upon the Grey Lady’s face as she purchases her strawberries and heads home. However, subtle shading techniques and figurative motifs in Bang’s illustrations foreshadow horrible events to come. For instance, as she is walking out of the door from the market, the shop behind her looks dark and foreboding. Subsequently, as she is heading down the sidewalk on the next page, we see a shocking and sinister face peering around the corner, intent on following her. This is the dark element or the evil figure that just might mean doom for the Grey Lady. He follows her by the shops in town, skateboards after her when she boards the bus, and he continues to follow her into an oddly beautiful swamp, an eerily daunting forest, and finally into a foggy grey clearing where the book reaches a startling climax.

For a wordless book, this story is an engaging page-turner. The rich and textured illustrations employ a vivid color palette which in turn creates a landscape that harnesses the driving energy of the story. The decision to illustrate the Grey Lady as a subtle, soft figure and the Strawberry Snatcher as a bizarre and freakish creature enhances the elements of the story. The Grey lady blends in with the landscape. You get the feeling she has lived in this area for a long time. It is her intimate knowledge of the environment which allows her to outwit her attacker again and again. The strange and colorful appearance of the Strawberry Snatcher illustrates he is an interloper on the local landscape. His fiendish features compared with the deep laugh lines and warm wrinkles of the Grey Lady further demonstrate the dichotomy which is the overall theme of the story: good vs. evil, the honest old lady vs. the devilish thief trying to wrest her most sacred treasure.

The wondrous artistry of this book makes it a triumphant yet spooky achievement. Readers are given the framework for constructing their own imaginative journey. Taking cues from facial expressions, environment, movement, and other illustrative devices, the reader can feel for themselves what emotions are conjured up and decide for themselves how to feel about the book's resolution. This is one of the great things about wordless picture books; there is so much more room for interpretation. The rise and fall of the plot of this book is one that can be appreciated by young and old alike and the pictures themselves can be appreciated for their detail and richness. Overall, I would recommend this book for readers of all ages.

Suspect Hospitality

The Spider and the Fly
by Mary Howitt, illustrated by Tony Diterlizzi
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, ©2002

The Spider and the Fly is Tony Diterlizzi's delightfully creepy modern reworking of the 1829 cautionary tale by early romantic poet Mary Howitt. "Will you walk into my parlor?" asks the Spider of the Fly; a now-classic opening salvo in a story meant to warn children to be careful and observant of seemingly well-meaning strangers.

Diterlizzi's illustrations are packed with wonderfully subtle, terrible details on every page. The visual narrative is intricate, which adds value to repeat readings - even the wallpaper and curtains are drawn with wry, sardonic humor and a gallows mentality, and grisly easter-eggs abound. Despite the parable quality of the original poem, the anthropomorphized characters re-enforce the depth of horror: this is a story of seduction and murder, and may not be suitable for children who don't already have a fairly morbid sense of humor and a decent conceptual grasp of death.

Reading this book aloud, I found myself drawn subconsciously into imitating the sonorous, gravelly voice of Christopher Lee - the softly glowing font demands as much. The Spider, with his dangerous, rolling eyes and oily smile, channels Vincent Price, one of the kings of silent horror, and the Fly is reminiscent of Greta Schröder and Louise Brooks. Naturally, these details will be lost on young readers, but it's never too late to introduce these classic gems to your burgeoning horror afficionado's repertoire.

If the name sounds familiar, that's because Tony Diterlizzi is the co-creator of the Spiderwick Chronicles with another author of gothic children's stories, Holly Black (whose work will inevitably be reviewed here as well). Geekery: Diterlizzi got his start with gaming company TSR, working on Dungeons & Dragons books, and moved on to Magic: the Gathering when TSR was bought out by Wizards of the Coast. There's also a fascinating picture of former First Lady Laura Bush reading The Spider and the Fly on the illustrator's wikipedia page.

Sanitary Friends

The Soap Lady
by Renee French
Top Shelf Productions, Inc., 2001.


The Soap Lady is an outlandish, heartwarming story of friendship, hope and sanitation, written and drawn by Renee French.

The story opens as the Soap Lady rises gently from the sea in a disconcerting parallel to the birth myth of Aphrodite. She is a lumpen, shambling horror; a bloated and dessicated body supported by skeletal legs, with a skull for a head. She meets Rollo, a young boy who can't seem to stay clean, and the two become instant friends. When the villager adults discover her presence, however, she is driven back into the sea, but not before leaving Rollo with a truly disturbing parting gift to remember her by.

Renee French's artwork consistently straddles the border between the uncomfortable and the charming, evoking the ticklish morbidity of Edward Gorey and the visual social criticism of Jhonen Vasques. However, French's imagery is much softer and more soothing than Gorey's, and far less frenetic than Vasques'. Moments that would be revolting if they were handled by any other artist become touching and somewhat sweet in this book... until you realize what exactly just happened. The beauty of The Soap Lady is in French's deft balancing of themes of loving friendship and rising horror.

According to a short blurb in the back of the book, the story was inspired by the real-life discovery of a corpse in a Philadelphia cemetery whose fat had turned to adipocere (aka grave wax) after burial. Adipocere derives from adipose - the multi-function substance found throughout the human body which builds up in excess in obese people.

For those of geek persuasion: you may also remember that the Tenth Doctor faced down an army of adorable Adipose aliens with Donna Noble in the first episode of the fourth series of Doctor Who. Apparently, there's just something about this substance that makes us giggle (and wiggle), even as we're horrified by it.