Finale Craft: Horror Door Hangers…Zombie Alarms

Tomorrow on the Season Finale and Halloween Special, Episode #136, our craft will be:

Horror Door Hangers or “Zombie Alarms”

You will need:

  • Scissors1013161454
  • Heavy duty yarn (we used 100% Mercerized Cotton)
  • 4 small silver bells
  • 1 large pumpkin bell
  • 5 Halloween buttons or icons
  • 1 small crochet hook (best sizes 6, 7, 8) You don’t have to be able to crochet to do this project. It’s just a tool to thread the items on.

Make these easy Horror Door Hangers to decorate your home, or alert you to zombie attack. Hung on your door knob, they will jingle whenever the door is opened or moved. Not only a great zombie protection item, this will brighten up an ordinarily boring item in your home – the door knob. If you collect your items, you can make these with us as you listen to the finale. We give set-by-step

1. Choose your icons.1013161335

Most of us have a bevy of Halloween or horror doodads lying around the house. If you don’t, they can be purchased at any craft store or dollar store at this time of year.

You also need 4 silver bells and a pumpkin bell to make this exact hanger. If you are on a budget, just use any bells you have around or purchase some cheap ones at the dollar store.

2. Cut your yarn.

Cut three 2-yard lengths of string and fold them in half. Generally a yard is from the tip of your nose to the end of your out-stretched arm. However, if you have dino arms like me, you might want to make it a little longer.

3. Attach your pumpkin bell.
bookmarkfold

After you attach one string, attach the other two in the same fashion. When complete, you should have 3 lengths of yarn “Bookmark” folded on your bell. This will leave you with 6 threads of yarn.

4. Braid your yarn and add bells.1016161211

Once your pumpkin is attached, braid about 1.5 inches and attach one of your silver bells on one of the threads. Then tie a big knot with all the threads to secure the bell in  place. Repeat this step until you have 3 silver bells in place.

5. Braid and secure the door knob loop.

After the 3rd bell is in place, knot it to keep it in place, and then braid for another about 4 inches. You should now have a generous loop to loop over the door knob. Test on a nearby door if you are uncertain. Tie a knot at the base of the loop so that your bells hang down on one side, and 6 loose strings hang on the other.

6. Attach your icons, and last bell.

With the remaining 6 loose threads, attach each each of your buttons, icons, and the last bell using the crochet hook to pull the yarn through. Then tie a knot on each item to secure it. Stagger the lengths to add some interest.

7. Hang your hanger.

Now you are ready to show your Halloween style and protect yourself against zombies at the same time! For full instructions and an audio walk through, listen to the season finale, airing October 22nd, right here at HorrorAddicts.net.

When Terror Takes Hold – Laurel Anne Hill

Nothing squeezes my gut worse than facing big-time adversity beyond any hope of my control. I’ve dangled forty feet in the air from the broken cross-bar of a rotten clothes-line pole, and sixty feet up while clinging to a busted ladder on the side of a building. On one SCUBA diving adventure, my air supply malfunctioned thirty feet beneath the ocean’s surface. And white-water rapids once sucked me under and pinned me against a boulder. Yet in all of these situations, I focused on survival and took action. Terror never had a chance to catch me and take hold.

Photo by Amanda Norman

Thus, one of my scariest experiences occurred before my “take action” survival response had yet developed. I was young, perhaps only eight or nine years old.

My childhood home was a third floor rental flat in San Francisco, one of those units with a long hallway leading to the bedrooms and bath. Railroad flats, they’re sometimes called. An enclosed service porch, containing our wringer washer, laundry tubs, a work table and a closet full of home-canned fruits and vegetables stood adjacent to the kitchen. Mother kept the back door to the flat locked, but the business end of a skeleton key often resided in the keyhole. A fire safety measure. The door led to a wooden staircase, the staircase to an alleyway between buildings. One end of the alleyway opened into the back yard. At the opposite end was a door to Fourteenth Street.

The street-side alleyway door was never locked.

Three generations lived in our two-bedroom flat. You do the math. I had no room of my own for a haven. Sometimes I liked to stand on the porch at night and feel the darkness enfold me.

Even in those days, I “wrote” stories in my head or jotted them on paper. The ambiance of a lightless or shadowy room stirred my imagination. Still, I had not yet acquired the skills to translate emotions into sentences. The best stories lived inside of my mind.

One night, my mother and older sister were reading in the living room. My father was away on a business trip. Grandma and Grandpa had retired to bed. My baby brother slept. I stood on the porch by the washing machine, doors to both kitchen and outside stairs shut. Moonlight glowed through a side window.

An inner voice told me I shouldn’t be there.

But the voice was only my conscience, wasn’t it? I should return to the living room, lie on the rug in front of our little gas heater or curl up on the overstuffed rose sofa with a book. I should share time with my family.

I heard a noise from outside. A creaking of wood.

The first feeling to stir within me was not one of alarm, but the warmth of embarrassment. I was here, successfully becoming lost in imagination, and Mother wanted my company. We had no television and took pleasure in the presence of each other at day’s end.

Another creak followed, and another. Those were footsteps. Slow, heavy footsteps.

No one ever climbed our back stairs at night.

The footsteps now reached from beyond my imagination. I’d learned to separate reality from fantasy. Whoever approached my back door was real.

If the intruder heard me, he or she might break down the door and grab me. Maybe I should remain quiet. But Mother needed to know so she could call the police. No matter. Neither my arms nor legs would have obeyed any command to move. I could barely even breathe.

The doorknob rattled.

What if Mother had forgotten to lock the door? Or if the person at the door–surely a man–knew how to probe the keyhole with wire and make the skeleton key turn? I ought to get Mother. Why couldn’t I move?

The doorknob turned.

All warmth left me. My heart thudded faster and faster. Yet the terror provided a certain perverse pleasure, something to tuck away inside of my mind for future recollection.

The door didn’t open. A wooden board creaked. Footsteps receded. Whoever had stood on the other side of the barrier had retreated down the stairs.

I remained immobile for at least five minutes. The intruder did not return. My world was safe again.

How wonderful to open the door leading into the kitchen, to see Grandma’s stove with its big, black pipe in the shadowy room. I headed to the living room and told my mother and older sister what had happened. They laughed.

Neither one believed me, that is, until I repeated my story to them many years later.

As for the terror I experienced, I keep the memory tucked inside my brain. I draw upon the details when giving characters in my stories a frightful time. The memory also spurs me to be sure I’ve locked my doors and activated the alarm system before bedtime.

With or without a skeleton key, I prefer to stay in control.

LAUREL ANNE HILL grew up in San Francisco, with more dreams of adventure than good sense or money. Her close brushes with death, love of family, respect for honor and belief in a higher power continue to influence her writing and her life. ForeWord Magazine selected Laurel�s debut parable, Heroes Arise, for a Book of the Year Award for 2007 (bronze, science fiction category). Laurel�s shorter works span the genres of science fiction, fantasy, horror and creative nonfiction. http://www.laurelannehill.com