The Horrorscope

 Vic was a young horror nut.

It was 1965 and whilst other kids were fawning over the Beatles he was fixated with monsters.

Monsters of any kind. 

Dracula, Frankenstein, Wolfman, Mummy. Even Old Nick. He loved them all.

School was a necessary evil, but when the bell went for end of day Vic would pelt home, grab a glass of milk and a couple of jamborees and head into his bedroom to pour over his passions.

The best day by far was the monthly arrival of his subscriptions, Creepy, Eerie and Famous Monsters. When these three comics landed on the mat Vic's heart sang like a siren.

Yes! 

It was the best feeling ever, lying on his stomach on the carpet leafing through the unholy trinity of monster mags. Nothing came near it. It was heaven.

The illustrations were to die for and the storytelling was just smashing. Every single page was a masterpiece but one of Vic's favourites was Loathsome Lore, a panel which always detailed some dreadful myth or hateful legend like human sacrifices or selling souls.

Yet his absolute favourite thing in all three mags weren't the stories, the black and white photos or the movie reviews.

No.

It was the small ads scattered throughout a d culminating in a couple of dedicated pages at the back.

These were the zenith, the summit, the dog's bollocks of monsterdom for Vic. God, how he would have liked everything on offer from the amazing supplier, Cap Company.

But he spent all his pocket money on his magazine subscription. He just couldn't afford anything else and didn't want to pester his parents, who already thought his grisly obsession was a little unhealthy for a boy.

So, he satisfied himself with just imagining what it would be like to own a phial of Dracula's soil or a life-size poster of Frankenstein or a an LP record of The Food of the Gods, never mind the wonders of a Don Post Wolfman mask or a set of Impko horror decals. 

Oh, the beautiful gruesomeness of it all. How he longed to be part of it and not just read about it, the Universal monsters, the Black Zoo and the House of Hammer.

He woke up thinking about it and we t to bed the same. Everything else was a mundane distraction from the serious business of werewolves, vampires and ghouls.

Vic surely was mad about monsters.

And then he saw it.

It was advertised at the back of a Famous Monsters special, as if had been shoved in just for him. 

The Horrorscope DIY Movie Making Set. 

Vic couldn't believe his eyes. You could actually make your own stop-motion film and view it in the horrorscope, along with proper movies like The Wolfman and Mighty Joe Young.

£4 and £1 shipping from the States.

£5.

A small fortune. 

It would take a month of Sundays to copper up a sum like that. He could wash all the cars in Ashton and he still wouldn't make enough.

No.

He needed a get rich quick scheme.

Brooding over this conundrum at High School the next day, he saw a classified pinned up on the senior student' notice board. 

Aurora Monster Models,

Built or Boxed

Cash Waiting!

Ask for Hilarium, Set 2.

Blimey! Aurora! I know where some are! 

Vic's synapses went into overdrive as a complex ruse formed in his feverish brain.

He rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist and smiled.

By gum! It might just work.

First up, nick a nudey mag from his brother's bottom drawer. Best get two to be on the safe side. Old copies of Juggs.

Successful.

Next, talk to his mate Vincent.

Vinnie, you fancy a sneak peek at a couple of tasty nudey mags from my older brother?

Sure!

Here. 

Vic flicked through a couple of pages but then took it away.

You fancy owning them mate?

You're damn right!

Would you swap summat for them?

What?

You know that old box of Aurora models your brother has stashed away in the shed?

Yeah?

Would you swap 'em for Juggs?

They're my older brothers!

I know mate but they're stuffed in the shed gathering cobwebs. C'mon, these pair of Juggs could be yours!

Oh, OK then Vic. You're on!

The trade completed, each party very satisfied, Vic trotted off with his rickety box of monster models to find Hilarium in Set 2.

What have we got here then you little scrote?

A box full you big bastard! 

The senior boy glared at the first year and began rummaging.

Fuck me! You've got the lot here! The Witch, The Mummy! Jeez, you've even got the Forgotten Prisoner of Castlemare! 

I know. How much?

Four squid. Tops.

Six! It's a bargain Hilarium, you know it is..

I'll tell you what you pushy little fucker, I'll give you five pounds for the lot and not a soddin' penny more.

Done! 

Five one pound notes were handed over as was the box of monsters.

Vic stared at the money.

He was so close to owning a Horrorscope.

He shivered with excitement and ran home to write the letter. 

Dear Sir/Madame,

Please rush me one Horrorscope,

£5 enclosed here with.

Yours,

Vic Timm

The letter was stamped and addressed to:

F. Allenone,

Death Valley,

Nr. Sin City.

USA.

It was three weeks later when the package arrived.

On Halloween.

Vic told his parents it was a gift from a penpal and quickly bolted upstairs to unwrap his treasure. 

The Horrorscope DIY Movie Set.

There it was.

In all its grisly glory!

Vic couldn't believe his eyes.

He unboxed the contraption and eagerly read the instructions twice.

Following them closely, Vic began to make his movie using the small camera provided. 

He wore his best Lon Chaney mask and took twenty snaps of his own growling face.

The negatives were then plunged into the developing fixative and the images began to form in the tray.

Immediately Vic started to feel funny. 

As the portraits of himself, the parts of his film, emerged one by one he began to get weaker by the minute.

Collecting his finished prints, he slowly put them in order and just about managed to slot them into the horrorscope viewer. 

Vic realized he felt dreadful. Really dreadful. 

He went to the mirror on the wall and to his absolute horror he was fading away.

What! No!

He fingered his misty features as they dissolved before his very eyes.

Oh My G...

No. Not him. The other one my boy! 

It's me. Old Nick, the Fallen One. You write to me. Remember!

Vic turned round, half gone and stated in disbelief at the figure say on his bed in front of the scope.

He had bright red smoking skin, horns, cloven feet and a large fork. Just like he was supposed to have. 

Come, sit next to me. My friends will be here any minute.

There was a knock at the bedroom door.

Ah. Here they are.

The Devil opened up and in walked an entourage of classic monsters. 

Frankenstein, Dracula, Phantom of the Opet, the Mummy and the Wolfman.

They all sat on the bed and watched Vic's stop motion short.

Look Wolfy, he's got your face! 

The monsters howled and turned to see the bewildered boy completely fade away as he screamed one final pmea 

Nooooooooooo!

Bingo, another young soul in the bag! 

The Devil stared into the viewer one last time to see a terrified Vic, now mask-free, trying desperately to get out of the film, frantically clutching the sides of the frames.

Tut tut! When will these monster nuts learn not to sell your soul so easily!

The gang of beasts stood up shaking their heads and walked out of the house.

Vic was never seen again.