Those Quiet Moments: Night of the Nazgul

 

It was a nice gesture on my Mom's part.  Way back in 1978, when I was only seven, she elected to take me to an animated film.  It's just a cartoon after all.

That movie, The Lord of the Rings: the Fellowship.

This is far in advance of Peter Jackson's efforts obviously.  This was an animated take by legendary 70's animator Ralph Bakshi.  He of classic groundbreaking filmdom.  He of unmitigated trash.  But I suppose, that in 1978, the only way to transfer Tolkien's tale to the big screen would be through animation.  Nonetheless, between Gollum, (who my mother would mock in whisper for years: "My preciousssssss") and the fucking Ringwraiths, I was at the least uncomfortable, at most, terrified. 

So I still remember the nightmare.  

I wake up; the house is cold.  I begin to stroll out of my bedroom and into the living room.  The house is well lit, but there's no one to be found.  Nothing to be heard but the sound of a steady and moderate wind.  I make my way through the living room, and begin to go down the hall to the kitchen.  I'm apprehensive at this point.  I don't know what to expect.  Where is everybody??  Something is not right.  As I enter the dining area, and turn to my right, I freeze.  And see why I feel the way I do.

Across that room, through the kitchen, is the back door.  That door is open and behind the screen door, which is lightly tapping the frame with the breeze is a room that some would call a mud room, or a tool room.  Either way, there's not much to it in my memory but people's shoes, dad's tools, and then the doorway out of the house. 

In this moment; however, standing in the middle of this room is a horse.  

Saddled by one of Bakshi's Ringwraiths. 

The Nazgul, with his glowing red eyes staring straight into me, and whatever's behind me.  Hooves clopping on the concrete floor of that room, as the horse awaits an order.   That humming wind still making its throaty drone. 

I awoke there.  But in some ways, I'm still there, 44 years later looking directly into the eyes of what my 7 year old mind had determined to be the essence of pure, unfiltered evil. 

I know part of my mind is still there, because the thought of this product of my Bakshi-fueled imagination still draws shudders to this day.