Horror stories involving children are a risky route to take
these days. Even where the story is entirely fictional, contains
characters that have no existence in the real world and are not
based on any real-world event. In these litigious times,
there are so many willing to cry ‘I’m offended!’ and proceed to
sue the writer because of some terrible imaginary thing they’ve
just thought up and saw a profit in pursuing.
If you plan to have a child anywhere in your tale of gore and
mayhem, watch out for those who make a living by being
professionally offended. Then again, some people are offended when
they wake up in the morning and spend the whole day looking for
new things to be offended at—which is a storyline in itself but
not the subject of this article. Another time.
I have never included a child character in a story because,
well, I don’t like them very much and also because I had no idea
how to do it. Half of that has changed with the arrival of
my son, heir and house demolition unit, Caligula Dume. I now
have experience to draw on and I know just how horrific a child
can be.
There are three ways to portray the child character in horror.
The well known book, The Lovely Bones isn’t a horror story,
but it makes the child a victim of a horrific attack. Very
difficult to do well, and very risky in the current world.
Personally I would avoid the child-as-victim angle but then
Stephen King played it very well in his novel, It, so
it can be done. Carefully.
The second option would be to make the child a hero who
destroys the demon. Easier to do, but hard to make
believable. You might need to give the child special powers
and that always risks the dreaded Deus Ex Machina
accusation. Children with special powers are not unknown in
fiction. Look at the wonderful Firestarter for
inspiration there. However —and I am sure the elves and
goblins who write fantasy will agree—power cannot be free.
It must come at a cost. Physical or psychological, you
choose, just don’t make it too easy for your magical infant.
Free power is too easy and is of the old ‘With a bound, he
escaped’ school of writing. Which is no longer
considered a reasonable story feature, I’m afraid.
One thing to watch out for if you have a magic-powered child as
the hero is that it’s very easy to slip into a messianic-type
story, where the child heralds a new dawn and changes the world.
Remember you’re writing horror, not fantasy. No dancing
elves or bad guys killed by melting their rings. It’s
supposed to be scary. Your characters are not supposed to
live happily ever after in Utopia, ruled by the child-king who
dismisses demons with a sneer. The child-hero might win but
there must be the possibility that the monsters will return.
Otherwise the story leaves nothing to be scared of and that’s not
horror.
The third and to my mind preferable option is to make the child
the monster. This was well done recently in a Dr. Who
episode. A child in a gas mask stalked the streets of
wartime London, plaintively calling for his mummy. Anyone
who touched the child was transformed. He wasn’t wearing a
mask. That was his face. It was the face that grew on
all who touched him, and they also wandered lost, looking for
‘mummy’. You might think the Daleks were scary but they had
nothing on this child. He was very scary indeed. A
marvelously chilling storyline, better even than the lonely
assassins of the excellent Blink episode.
There’s also the child in Pet Cemetery who was very,
very nasty. It wasn’t his fault. His father did that
to him with the best of intentions, the sort of good intention
that adds another paving slab to Hell’s approach road.
Nevertheless, he was almost as nasty as little Caligula even
without the multiple rows of teeth.
Then again, it doesn’t have to be an actual, real child.
Sometimes it just has to sound like one. The original
Hellraiser film, still the best of that series, enticed the
heroine into the Halls of Damnation with a plaintive child’s cry.
It wasn’t a child. I won’t say what it was in case you
haven’t seen the film because I don’t want to spoil your fun.
Suffice to say, if you found that thing in your local play-park
you wouldn’t go near the place after dark.
In Terry Gilliam’s film, Brazil, the excellent use of
baby-faced masks, especially on the torturer, produced a
wonderfully uncomfortable atmosphere. It’s been years since
I saw that film but I can still picture the masks perfectly.
No children were harmed in the making of that movie—in fact, as
far as I recall, only a few children appeared in the film and then
only briefly, when they set fire to a government vehicle.
Kids, eh? Always messing around.
No discussion of children in horror could be complete without
at least one mention of The Midwich Cuckoos and of course,
Children of the Corn. In both of these, the children
are the horror but for different reasons. The Cuckoos were
placed in the wombs of local women by aliens and managed to
combine perfect manners and exceptionally neat dress sense with a
chilling presence. The Children of the Corn are
human, but worship a monster called 'He Who Walks Behind the
Rows', who has enticed them into killing every adult in town and
now into killing each other. Making them alien means they
are not real children. I find the real children much more
plausible, and therefore much more scary.
There are lines to cross in this aspect of horror, lines you
cross with care and only if confident you can do it without
causing legal problems for yourself. A lot will depend on
local laws but mostly it depends on the way you approach the
subject. In general, only the child-as-victim approach will
cause you problems and then, really, only if you make it sexual or
gratuitous or just that little bit too close to reality.
Remember, you’re trying to scare your reader, not sicken them.
You want them to reach for the bed-sheets and pull them over their
heads. You don’t want them reaching for the phone and dialing 911.
So write. Carefully.