Tag: horror

Why I love haunted houses

This is the speech I gave at my local library this past week. I’m still working on this week’s post, so please en

Hello. My name is Nicole Luttrell. I’m a local speculative fiction writer. That means I write about ghosts, dragons and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships. 

I want to start by thanking Dianne and everyone here at the Butler Library for hosting this talk. And frankly, for being here and doing the job they do. Being a librarian has never been easy, but it seems to get harder all the time. 

I’ve written a fantasy series called Woven, which I have copies of today, about a prince who weaves visions and a princess who spins light. I also write a science fiction series called Sation 86. It’s about murder, politics and possibly the end of mankind on the station of First Contact. I have a QR code here so you can get the first book in that series free. 

But what I love writing most is horror. 

This month is my time to shine, yes. 

I became a writer for the same reason most people do. I love stories. I love reading. And that love has been well fed within these very walls for most of my life. One day it occured to me that someone had to write books the same way someone had to build cars or wait tables. Someone had to do it, so why couldn’t that be me? So I came to the library, and I found the section upstairs with the books about writing books. And there I found a copy of the Writer’s Market. 

If you’re not a writer yourself, or even if you’re just a writer who started submitting work after the internet was in everyone’s homes and pockets, you might not know about this book. It’s like a phonebook for the publishing world. Magazines, publishing companies and literary agents are all listed. Itwas a thing of beauty. An expensive thing of beauty that had to be replaced every year. But it made me feel like a real writer to use it. 

The Writer’s Market isn’t updated anymore because, again, internet. And while I certainly wouldn’t use it anymore, I’ll forever be grateful to it for helping me see that writing is a career as well as art. 

But it’s almost Halloween, and today, I want to talk about something scarrier than the publishing industry and a teenage girl’s flounderings through it. If there is anything scarrier than that. 

I wrote a book called Quiet Apocalypse. It’s about a witch named Sadie. She’s enjoying her quiet life as a school nurse, living in a cozy apartment with her dog Sage. 

Yes, Sage makes it.

Then a tree falls on her apartment building, and it lets something loose. Something bloody and dark. 

Allow me now to read the introduction. 

 The end of the world started on a dark winter night.

 Trees circled the apartment building at 437 Oakmont. They weren’t old trees, nor were they tall. Yet to look at them, one would think them ancient. They were twisted and gnarled. Every gust of wind found them, even when no other tree moved. The cold of winter clung in their branches, no matter the weather. Passersby didn’t like to dawdle along the sidewalk. The trees made them feel unwelcome. Children especially felt this, but of course, children always feel these things most keenly. 

 But we weren’t talking about children. We’ll come back to them. For now, we’re discussing the trees. 

 They’d been groaning and moaning for most of their lives. Sometimes you couldn’t hear them unless you were listening carefully. Other times the inhabitants of the apartment had to turn their TVs up to drown the trees out. But on one dark night in February, the sounds were unrelenting. There was a winter storm. The wind was hellacious, cutting through the town like a vengeful spirit. It took out hanging signs for stores on Main Street, brought down the old pine next to the library, and crashed Mr. Wallback’s patio table into his sliding glass window. Ashley Homestead regretted leaving her potted pine tree out for the night. It was thrown against the house from the back porch with such force that the pot shattered. 

Leslie Richard’s trampoline, covered over with a tarp for the season, was lifted and thrown into the yard of his next-door neighbor. 

 The wind rattled windows, pushed its way through cracks in the walls and around doors. Heaters couldn’t keep up with the sharp, blistering cold. The families in the apartment building were kept awake by it, huddled under blankets to keep warm.

The storm built up steam as it headed for Oakmont. It was as though those trees in a circle were its target, and it meant to have them. The storm came to a head at almost four in the morning. One of the trees, exhausted from a night’s battle, couldn’t hold on any longer. It came down, crashing into the roof and jutting sharp, dark branches into the attic apartment.

The wind died away almost at once. Gentle snow replaced it, covering the ice. The next morning this would cause several accidents. 

The trees that remained continued to scream, as though mourning their fallen brother.

I wrote Quiet Apocalypse for two reasons. First, I was starting to feel more comfortable as a witch. I wanted to write a character who was also a witch. A real world witch, not a magical creature one. 

Secondly, and what I really came here to talk about, I wanted to write a haunted house story. Haunted house stories have always been my favorite sort of story. The House Next Door, The Haunting of Hill House, The Amittyville Horror. These are the sort of books that keep me turning pages and rethinking every creak and groan in my own house. 

I’m not alone in my love of haunted houses. They’re a mainstay of the horror genre for a reason. We all want to think that our homes are our safe havens from the world. That our front door acts as a barrier to the bad things. The dark things.

So the thought of something lurking in the dark and dripping corners of our homes is viceral. But it’s also realistic. I would argue that haunted houses are the most realistic horror genre. 

Bad things happen in our homes. House fires from wires we didn’t even know were frayed. Carbon monoxide leaks. Storms large and powerful enough to rip and tear buildings apart. 

When was the last time you checked your smoke alarms? 

Quiet Apocalypse starts with a very mundane and realistic disaster. One that almost takes Sadie’s life before the story even starts. Allow me to read a passage.

 Sadie sat in the doorway of her ruined apartment. Her eyes were itchy, there were rivets of tears dried to her face. She had cried herself out the night before. Now she only wanted a shower and a good long rest. But, as a tree had crashed through the roof of her apartment, neither of those things could happen. 

 She knew she ought to be grateful. She’d been in the kitchen with Sage, her creamy colored lab mix when the tree came down. Branches seared through the exterior wall, crashing through her living room and bedroom. One had pierced right through her bed. It was still there, jammed right in the center of the quilt. If Sadie’d been asleep, she wouldn’t have survived. All she’d lost were things. She should be thankful for that. 

 When she was done mourning her things she would be. Her mother had made her that quilt. The crystals on the altar in her living room were all buried in the rubble. Her whole living room was a loss. What wasn’t destroyed in the crash or buried under the roof was damaged by the snow that had flooded in. 

And her books! Her family had given her irreplaceable books. Thank the Green Man Himself that her grandmother’s grimoire was at Aunt Helen’s place. But Sadie had her mother’s grimoire. And now it was destroyed. 

 She looked at the cardboard box that contained everything she now owned. There was her teapot, gray with a design of cherry blossoms. The cups that matched it had shaken loose from their shelf and shattered. 

There was her grimoire, a battered old sketchbook with a red cover. A french press, some herbs. A truly astounding assortment of tea. A handful of crystals and candles had been on her kitchen windowsill. Sage’s food and water bowl. That was all she had. 

 They were just things. Things that didn’t mean anything aside from everything. Ties to family members lost. Tools for her magical work and her mundane life. Decades of learning were destroyed in no time. 

A haunted house story can be seen as an alligory for accidents and natural disasters that threaten our families. But the ones that scare us the most, and stay with us the longest, are usually about family traumas and abuse. 

Amityville Horror is about a family tortured by dark entities until the father nearly kills everyone. But it’s also about dark financial worries. It’s about a man feeling like he failed as a provider and taking it out on his family. 

Poulterguist is about a house opening a portal to a horrific and hungry dimension. But it’s also about Suburban Sprawl and guilt. 

Quiet Apocalypse is about a demon trying to break free and cause the apocalypse. But it’s also about the fear of dying alone. Of having no one to leave behind a legacy for. 

I’ve been in a haunted house. And I bet you have too. If you’re fortunate enough to not have lived in one, you’ve visited one. It was the friend’s house where things got quiet when their mom came home from work. Or one that got way too loud. Maybe it was a family home after a funeral. 

Maybe it was just a place that didn’t feel right. It seems safe, but it doesn’t feel safe. Your instincts are screaming at you to run. To get the hell out of there despite no apparent danger. 

In my experience, it’s best to listen to those instincts. 

So we understand why cultures all over the world come back over and over to the haunted house story. But I want to go a step further and suggest that women in particular are drawn to reading and writing haunted house stories. We, along with children, tend to be the main characters and main victims of haunted house stories. 

It’s Eleanore who senses something wrong and eventually goes mad in Hill House. 

It’s Diana Freeling who insists to her husband that something’s wrong in the house, only to be dismissed until their daughter is sucked into the television. 

It’s Col Kennedy who has to convince her husband that there is something very wrong with the beautiful new house next door.

I think this is the case for a number of reasons. First, women historically spend more time at home than their spouses. Or, we at least spend more time caring for our homes and the people in them. So if the kids are talking to invisible playmates, we’re more likely to notice. If there’s blood dripping out of the ceiling, we’re probably the ones cleaning it up thinking it’s rust stains. 

At first. 

If our loved one is suddenly spending an uncomfortable amount of time with their axe collection or singing in a language we don’t recognize, we’ll probably be the ones to point it out. 

In addition to this, haunted house stories are cathartic to women. Consider how often in a horror movie the main character starts out trying like hell to convince someone, usually her partner, that something is wrong. Blood’s coming out of the faucets, there’s a spot in the back yard that’s never warm, bottles are popping and spilling with no one in the room. But no one is listening! No one else seems to see it all happen. It’s almost like they’re looking away at just the wrong time on purpose. Only to calmly and condecendingly explain the shape and color of the trees while missing the forest entirely. 

What else does that sound like to you? Maybe like trying to explain medical symptoms to your partner, or doctor? 

You just need to lose weight.

It’s the house settling.

You’re just getting older.

You didn’t hear a child screaming, it was just these old pipes. 

You’re overreacting.

You’re being histerical. 

Finally, I think women are most often main characters in haunted house stories because home is a place of guilt for us. We feel more responsible for our homes because we’re taught that we’re responsible. At least, I was. So if something is wrong with our house, it’s our fault. 

The dishes aren’t done. It doesn’t matter if we dirtied them, it’s still our fault. The laundry’s piling up, our fault. An ancient demom is cracking through the basement floor, our fault. 

Of course, as society changes so do the stories we tell. A great modern haunted house story is How To Sell A Haunted House by Grady Hendrix. The main character is acutally the one who needs convinced that something is wrong, and it’s her younger brother who does the convincing.

That book, by the way, is a great example of siblings being raised by the same people but very different parents. 

All of that being said, haunted house stories appeal to everyone. There isn’t a culture in the world that doesn’t have haunted house stories. The Himuro Mansion in Japan. The Wolfsegg Castle in Germany. Every community, neighborhood and village has a haunted house. I’m willing to bet our cave dwelling ancestors had certain caves they didn’t want to go into because they were jsut too creepy.

Finally, I would argue that haunted houses are more frightening than other supernatural elements because they are so incredibly intimate. If houses are alive, and as a witch I believe they are, they know us. They see us at our best and our worst. They see us in moments that we manage to hide from everyone else. And so if your home wanted to scare you, wanted to harm you, they’d know just how to do it. 

This is something that Sadie learns in Quiet Apocalypse. Allow me to read one final passage. 

 “Do you know where my mommy is?” the child asked. 

“I don’t know,” Sadie said. “What’s your name?” 

 The child didn’t respond. She just shook her head.

 “Where am I?” 

 Sadie swirled around. There was a little boy, standing in the middle of the main room. He looked terrified. 

 “Oh, it’s okay,” Sadie said. “Here, come over here. I’ll try to help you. I mean, I’m not really good with spirits, but I can-.” 

 “Mommy? Where am I, why can’t I see you?” 

 Another child was coming out of the bathroom. Then another. Suddenly there were two sitting on the futon, and three more standing in the middle of the room. They were all covered in blood. In their hair, on their shoes, on their clothes. It dripped onto the floor, smearing from their feet and dropping from toys or blankets they clutched.

 Sadie spun, looking around at all of the children. There were so many of them, and every moment there were more. Sage stood next to her, gasping out sharp, panicked barks. 

 “Sage, stop barking,” Sadie said. She whirled around again. “Please, calm down. I can help you, but I, I need a minute to think about what to do.” 

 They crowded towards her, reaching out with bloody hands. Crying out for her, reaching for her and pulling at her clothes. “Help, help us,” they cried. 

 “I’ll help you, I will,” Sadie said, but the children were pulling her down. 

 “Help us. You have to help us!” 

 Sadie couldn’t answer. She could barely breathe, drowning in the sea of bloody hands and crying screaming faces. She couldn’t see Sage anymore, couldn’t see anything. There were only the children, clawing at her. Killing her. 

Sadie is a school nurse. As I’m sure you can imagine, that carries an emotional burden. 

Now, unfortunately I don’t have any personal really good haunted house stories to share with you. Most of my experiences are subtle. I saw a shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye. I felt someone staring at me when there wasn’t anyone there. I found myself in a terrible mood, or unable to control my anxiety in certain parts of a house. This is all scary to live with but not overly interesting. And since you’ve all been listening to me ramble for a while now, it’s your turn. Tell us about your haunted house story in the comments below. 

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Why Incidents Around The House Works

Released in June of last year, Incidents Around The House is an interesting book. It’s a fantastic example of a modern horror novel, and I read it in a matter of days. If I’d had nothing else pulling at my attention, I’d likely have read it in a matter of hours.

Incidents Around The House is a story of a girl named Bela and her family. It is told from Bela’s point of view, in a stream-of-consciousness manner that ignores silly things like grammar, paragraphs, and sentence structure. It is simply the story told from the point of view of a little girl, exactly as she would tell it. And while that was off-putting at first, it wasn’t long before I couldn’t have cared less.

That being said, I would consider this to be an interesting and experimental choice. And one that could have backfired terribly. But it didn’t. Instead, Incidents Around The House was one of my favorite books of the year so far. So let’s break it down and see why it works.

There was no need to convince anyone that bad things were happening

Often at the start of a horror novel, especially a haunted house novel, a lot of time is wasted. Our main character has to convince themself, and possibly others around them, that yes something deeply ominous and dangerous is in fact happening.

In this book, there was none of this. Bela, our main character, knows that something is wrong. And she doesn’t waste any time trying to explain this to her parents. She’d rather her parents not know about ‘Other Mommy’. So we’re able to skip a lot of the tedious, “Why won’t anyone believe me?” nonsense and get right to the “There’s literally something hunting our child,” part of the story.

There’s a great lesson for writers in this. You can skip the tedious parts of a story. You can skip the bits we’ve all seen before. You can skip the boring bits. Because if they’re boring to you, they’re boring to the reader.

Now, is your story going to be nonstop action all the time? Of course not. You’ll build ambiance and character. You need time to set the scene. But you can do this in interesting ways. Certainly, Incidents Around The House does this, introducing Bela and her parents over breakfast while Other Mommy looms in the background.

The sense of despair is great

Throughout the story, Bela and her family turn to one person after another for help with the Other Mommy. Over and over they’re betrayed, turned away and abandoned.

We can feel the frustration in the parents, even though they aren’t the main characters. Even better, we can feel the confusion and helplessness of poor little Bela. She’s realizing, maybe for the first time in her young life that not only do her parents not have everything under control, but most adults don’t either.

This leads to an isolating, choking sort of feeling. One that we feel right along with poor Bela and her parents. It’s horrifying, and quite well done.

This is something I struggle with, personally. Taking away all options from a character. Giving a character hell. But that’s what leads us to a riveting story. It’s certainly what drives me to finish a story. Not just a desire to know what happens, but a need to know how in the hell the characters get themselves out of this mess.

The story played on justifiable fears

Often when writers write children, outside of children’s literature, the characters don’t feel like children. They feel like little adults.

I am astounded by how much Bela feels like a child. And this truly increases the horror of the story. Because this is not a child-friendly story. This is a story that deals with some adult situations. Situations that I wouldn’t want any child to have to experience.

And that is, of course, the point. It is scary to imagine a child going through things their adults can’t protect them from. This allows the story to be ‘real world’ scary instead of just fictionally scary.

Horror always works best when it’s an allegory to something we’re actually afraid of. Most of us don’t fear a demon coming out of our child’s closet to get them. We are scared of them being in danger and not knowing how to help them.

The experimental art form didn’t get in the way of the story

Sometimes when a story’s told in an unusual way, it feels forced. It feels like there was more interest from the writer in experimenting with this new form than in telling the actual story.

And this particular format was a hard sell for me. I don’t want to say I’m a grammar snob, but I am. So if this story hadn’t grabbed me so quickly, so completely, I would have been too uncomfortable with the unstructured structure.

But the story came first. The format fits well with the story being told and allows Bela to truly be center stage.

All in all, Incidents Around The House was a masterclass in creeping horror. It inspired me to try some out-of-the-box formatting with my work. And it certainly inspired some uneasy moments.

As a matter of housekeeping, I will not be posting anything next week because I will be at Nebula Con and it’s my birthday. But we’ll be back with our regularly scheduled post on June 13th.

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The End of Haunted MTL

The publishing world is ever changing. What was a thriving online market yesterday could well be bankrupt tomorrow. A publishing company that was an unquestioned pillar can crumble. A beloved author can seemingly go out of her way to destroy her reputation.

And a beloved horror review site can shutter.

Sadly, Haunted MTL is no more. And, I might as well rip this band-aid off now, there will not be another season of AA.

I might write the story in book form, if anyone is interested. I was certainly going somewhere with the story.

I started working for Haunted MTL in 2019. I’d already published several novels by this time, but this was something different. This was an actual writing job.

I loved my time writing for Haunted MTL. I met so many amazing writers and made friends with several. There is nothing better than writing friends. I got to see horror movies that I might never have seen. Some I wish had never assaulted my eyeballs, like Antichrist. Some I loved very much, like Silent Night and Pooka. I conducted live tweet events during American Horror Story and Dexter, and got to talk to fellow fans all around the world.

Being a critic was a fantastic experience. If you want to be a good writer, one important exercise is to dissect a piece of work that you have strong opinions about, good or bad, and consider why it either works or doesn’t work. As a critic, that was exactly what I did twice a week. And I even got paid for it.

I was also invited to participate in several charity anthologies, which is always great. We conducted storytelling events through the years, writing short stories together. Including several years of Christmas and holiday horrors.

We did podcasts. We did events. We once read A Christmas Carol together and posted it. It was a laugh.

It was too good, maybe, to last.

I will miss Haunted MTL. I will miss the sense of writing camaraderie. Of being on staff. Of being part of a team.

But even as I mourn, I know it’s time to move on. As I said at the top, the publishing world is ever changing. And so even as this spooky door closes, another will open.

If you find yourself in this sort of situation, I’m so sorry. But remember, setbacks like this don’t necessarily reflect on you. Sometimes projects don’t work. We are artists, and art is subjective. Sometimes we’re going to do our level best and still not succeed. All there is for us then is to dust ourselves off, have a little cry, and write another story.

Then another, and another.

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Why would Quiet Apocalypse be banned

Including Quiet Apocalypse almost seems like cheating. It’s a horror story, it’s supposed to be offensive. It’s supposed to upset people. But after all, I included all the other books. No reason my youngest should feel left out. 

Brace yourself, folks. This might be the most offensive book I’ve ever written. But then, I never claimed it was for kids. 

Graphic animal death

I know, I wasn’t thrilled about writing it. But it did have the desired effect. Yes, there are a few horrible animal deaths in this book. 

I swear, the story called for it. 

Not as graphic but still child deaths

Some kids die in this book. I don’t go into detail. We didn’t need to read about broken bones and blood when discussing babies. But yeah, some kids die. 

Occult discussions

The main character of Quiet Apocalypse, Sadie, is a witch. I’m a witch myself, so I wrote about actual magic in this book. I even included actual spells I wrote in the book. So if you need to get rid of a ghost in your house, I got you. 

Violence

Finally, Quiet Apocalypse is violent. People are ripped apart by snowstorms. People are shredded by a staircase. At one point our heroes are attacked by toys in the attic. This isn’t a kind, friendly book. It is, gasp, a horror book. Horrifying things do happen.

So that’s it, not only for why Quiet Apocalypse would be banned but for Banned Books Week as a whole. I hope you’ve enjoyed this week of extra posts and discussions about censorship. Of course, just because Banned Books Week is over doesn’t mean we should stop reading banned books. Keep reading them, keep recommending them, keep defending them. 

One more time, I want to open the floor up to my fellow authors. Why would your book be banned? 

Banned books week might be over, but Preptober is about a week away. If you haven’t gotten your copy of the Preptober Planner yet, you still have time.

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Defending True Crime

I’ve loved true crime since I was a little girl. I can’t imagine I’m the only one who got hooked watching Unsolved Mysteries with Robert Stack. My great-grandma and I used to watch it together. I still think of her any time I hear that theme song.

Now True Crime is everywhere. Documentaries, tv shows, podcasts. I even co-host a true-crime podcast.

Recently I’ve found a reason for guilt over my enjoyment, though. The latest Scream movie pointed out that there’s a darker side to these stories. These are real stories. People died. Families were left shattered. The very last thing I’d ever want to do is belittle someone’s loss. The second to last thing I’d want to do is make a killer into a celebrity.

It’s not like mentally ill people need another excuse to kill innocent people. 

Are we just encouraging killers to think of themselves as rock stars? Are we dehumanizing victims for the sake of entertainment?

I’ve spent some time thinking about this. This world’s in a bad enough place right now, I don’t need to make things worse with some insensitive little tale.

And after some consideration, I don’t think True Crime does much harm. Dare I even say it might do some good? If, of course, it’s done right.

The good true crime podcasters don’t glorify the killers

On my podcast, Off The Bone, we don’t glorify killers. We tend to mock them. Most serial killers, by the way, wet the bed way longer than anyone else.

The killer is never the good guy, and the victim is never the punchline. To talk about True Crime in any other way is disrespectful and dangerous. 

We say their names

So many True Crime stories are unsolved. That’s part of the fascination, at least for me. We don’t know who the Somerton Man was, so we can’t let his family know what happened to him. Same for the Lady of The Dunes (Though Stephen King’s son might have helped solve that one.)

We’re all going to die someday. And most of us hope to be remembered by our loved ones. We want friends and family to share stories about us. And we don’t want a bunch of question marks hanging over our coffins. 

When we talk about unsolved murders, there’s a chance that someone might recognize the victim. That maybe, by saying their names, someone who loves them might hear. 

And even if they don’t, we remember them. 

I remember Bella in the witch elm.

I remember the Lady of The Dunes.

I remember the Somerton Man.

And I’ll be you do too.

If you have any information regarding this case.

Remember how each episode of Unsolved Mysteries ended? 

“If you have any information regarding this case, please call us.”

Well, people did call them. And because of that show, at least 260 cold cases were solved. 

Crowdsourcing mysteries gets results. And in the age of the internet, we’re even better at it. 

Because of consistent attention, the Keddie Cabin murder case was reopened. And as I mentioned earlier, Owen King might have helped solve the Lady of The Dunes mystery. He recognized an extra from Jaws who just might be her. 

True Crime done badly isn’t moral. But True Crime done well might actually solve crimes. And even if you’re not one of those who helps solve a cold case, you still enjoyed a damn good story.

And that’s worth something. I hope that when I go, I leave a good story behind.

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Why we all know the names Ed and Lorraine Warren

If you have even a passing interest in the occult, the horror genre, or even popular culture, you know the names Ed and Lorraine Warren. Ed was a demonologist and ordained exorcist by the Catholic church. Lorraine was a psychic medium. Together, they worked on countless paranormal investigations and founded the New England Society for Psychic Research. 

Their work inspired some of the most popular horror movies of my lifetime. They investigated the Amityville House, Annabelle, the Perron family, and countless others. 

Throughout their lives, they faced plenty of backlash. They were called frauds, of course they were. And I’m not here to say that the work they did is real. I’m also not here to say it’s not real. What I can say is this. Some questions are unanswered either way you see things. But I’ve seen too much in my own life to discount that there might be at least a grain of truth.

As I said though, that’s not the point. The point is that we cannot stop talking about them. And I’m here to talk about why.

It would be easy to say it’s the popular films based on their work that have put the Warrens firmly in our pop culture. But that doesn’t answer the base question. Why are these films so popular to start with? Well, for the same reason the Warrens themselves are.

To start with, Ed and Lorraine are attainable heroes. They’re not superpowered. They’re not sharpshooters or assassins trained from childhood to kill. While you could argue that Lorraine is a medium, lots of people consider that a skill you can learn. So while we might have a hard time seeing ourselves in Black Widow or Captain America, we can easily see ourselves in Ed and Lorraine. 

And we want to see ourselves there, too. Because the stories they tell are inspiring. The family in Amityville survived a living hell, as did the Perrons. The nurse who owned Annabelle was freed of her. The Warrens went up against the forces of Hell itself, and more often than not, they won.

Finally, The Warrens continue to be popular because they were fighting against fears we all have. 

I’m not saying that we all fear having a demonic presence in our home. But we’re all a little afraid of something coming into our home that might hurt us. We’re afraid of a good deal, often. The house that seems too cheap is often cursed with a bad foundation or a leaking roof. The lovely doll we got at a second-hand store is carrying lice or its stitching is falling apart. 

To a lesser extent, I think we’re all afraid of mental illness. And demonic possession can be seen as a metaphor for mental illness. 

There are those among us who want to do horrible things. They want to poison aspirin, shoot up elementary schools, lure people into dark places and slaughter them. All of this points to a broken, sad mind. And often we don’t get satisfying answers to why these people did what they did.

It’s really hard to see the humanity in the hands of the man holding the gun. And yet often, so often, we hear from friends and family members. They say that these monsters in man’s form were not monsters. Of course, they weren’t. We hear the same thing about most serial killers. They were nice people, good people.

Until they weren’t.

It’s easy to see how someone might suspect a demonic force at play. Maybe, it’s even better that way. Who wants to think a human being could do something like that.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this look into Ed and Lorraine Warren. And I want to hear what you think about them? Do you love them, hate them? Let us know in the comments.

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Horror Subgenres Part Six

In case you missed them, here are links to parts one, two, three, four and five. 

And this is it! We’ve come to the last post about horror subgenres. Did I get them all? Probably not. But that’s alright. We covered a lot. And hey, if I missed a subgenre you love or one that you wanted to know more about, please let me know in the comments. No reason I can’t do a part seven if I find enough new subgenres.

Techno horror

At the introduction of every technological advancement, there is fear. There will always be some that believe every new way to communicate with each other is the thing that will bring about the fall of society. As though it would ever be just one thing.

While we might like to think that Techno horror is a new subgenre, it’s really not. Sure, there are lots of good stories about internet urban legends coming true. Plenty of ghosts in the machines, hunters stalking innocent prey in comment sections and message boards.

But before there was the internet, there was television, radio and telephones. And we don’t have to look far to see that each had its own set of horrors.

I still think a phone with no caller ID is pretty damn scary.

The Ring is a great example, with a vengeful spirit trapped on a videotape. But we can go much farther back, to the classic film Videodrone. We’re always scared of what we don’t understand, and we don’t understand technology. Even as we’ve grown so dependent on it. And so the Techno horror subgenre is alive and well, with later installments including movies like Pulse.

Urban Gothic

I’ve not been shy about loving city life. Even as I write this I’m sitting in front of a window that looks out over my tiny little city. I can see windows that lead to people’s homes and offices.

And yeah, so many people living and working right on top of each other will lead to some horror stories.

This subgenre is full of dark alleys and dangerous shadows. It’s a drug store at two in the morning, empty but open. It’s someone you see on the other side of the road, who’s gone after a truck goes past. It’s a fifth-story window being opened from the outside. It’s a scream from your neighbor’s apartment, followed by silence.

This is a subgenre that goes back to London. Real horrors like dirty living conditions and clashing politics lead to stories like Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde. But we keep right on creating out of this gothic subgenre. Half the Purge movies would fall into this category, as well as the classic American Psycho.

Vampire literature

I don’t know how much I need to say about this one. I think we all know about vampires. The evil, the tortured, the sexy and brooding. Vampire lore has been with us for centuries, even before Stoker gave us the eternal Dracula. And it’s a subgenre that keeps updating along with the times. Capes are replaced with trench coats. What was once a monster lurking in the night becomes an influencer with millions of followers and a deal with Hot Topic.

As a teenager, I was in love with the entire vampire subgenre. As an adult, I’m rather over it. 

Weird Menace

This is another subgenre that is wrapped up in a specific timeframe. In this case, the 1930’s and 40’s. It’s a blend of horror and mystery, with a hero pitted against Satanic villains. This was largely a comic book subgenre, featuring graphic gore and sexual portrayals. Many of these comics lasted only one or two issues before there was enough public outcry to shut them down. One that did last a little while was called Strange Detective Stories. I hate that so many of these were shut down. While I don’t know that I’d call many of these old comics art, they might have evolved into some great works if left the hell alone.

What stories have we lost to the deadly boot of censorship? 

Werewolf fiction

Finally, we come to werewolf fiction. Another well-known subgenre, but a bit more nuanced. Because while werewolves specifically aren’t universal, legends of people turning into monsters under a full moon pretty much are.

I wonder why that is. Why does almost every culture across the world have stories of people turning into animal-like creatures? The styles might change, the animals they resemble differ. But these tales abide.

I wonder why.

There are some great examples of werewolf fiction out there. Underworld was fun, of course, as was I Was A Teenage Werewolf. 

So that’s it. Don’t forget to give this post a like if you enjoyed it. And if I didn’t get to your favorite horror subgenre, let me know in the comments. 

Quiet Apocalypse launches next week, on Friday the 13th! You can preorder it now on Amazon and Smashwords. 

The end of the world began with a winter storm.
Sadie’s quiet life is interrupted when a tree crushes the roof of her attic apartment. She’s forced to move to a smaller apartment in the building. Then, her aunt guilts her into clearing an ouija board of a particularly irritating spirit.
But it wasn’t just the roof that was broken by the tree. There was something trapped within the building, waiting. Waiting to wake and bring about the end of the world.
Not with screams, but with silence.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you loved this post, please consider buying me a cup of coffee on Ko-fi. 

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My Horror Heroes, Shirley Jackson

We’ve come to the last in my Horror Heroes series, but by far not the least. This author is a hero not only to me but to most of the other people on my hero list. 

Of course, we’re talking about the astounding Shirley Jackson. 

Shirley Jackson was an author when women weren’t supposed to be anything but homemakers. And she didn’t do this with anything that resembled support from her family. Her mother was a conservative woman who expected her daughter to be a conservative woman. As I’m sure you can imagine, there was some tension in her home growing up. As a woman raised in a backward, overly religious family, I can relate. 

Jackson’s married life wasn’t much better. Her husband was a professor, but she was soon making more money than him. Despite this, he controlled the finances in the house, dolling out only what he thought she should have of her own damned money. He also cheated on her all the time with his students. 

What’s worse is that he kept right on profiting from her long after she did. He sold a bunch of her writings after she passed, which seems like a huge betrayal. 

Really makes me appreciate my partner. 

But Jackson did what so many creatives do best. She took all the bad in her life and turned it into art. When some assholes in her backward town painted a swastika on her house, she was inspired to write The Lottery. 

Jackson wrote six novels, and over 200 short stories. Her children said she was always working. Either writing or thinking about writing. But she never once made them feel like anything less than the most important thing in her life. 

Jackson wrote some of the scariest novels of all time. The Haunting of Hill House is still considered one of the best ghost stories ever. And she might be the reason I love haunted house stories so much.

She was funny as hell, too. Here’s a great quote from her in regards to people’s response to The Lottery. 

“The number of people who expected Mrs. Hutchinson to win a Bendix washing machine at the end would amaze you.’ 

There’s no shrinking in this woman. There is no demure smile. She had no problem at all telling you exactly what she thought. 

Jackson also wrote extensively about her own life and raising her children. She wrote about her family with wit, sarcasm, and so much love. For her, there was no such thing as work-life balance. Her life was her work, her work was her life.

Jackson was an inspiration. I’ve been inspired by her my whole life. And I hope that you are too.

In short, here are the things I’ve learned from Shirley Jackson. And what you can learn from her too.

-Creating doesn’t have to take a back seat to caring for your family.

-Don’t take shit from anyone. 

-Don’t be afraid to succeed, beyond your spouse.

-Don’t let your mental illness hold you back from what you want to achieve. 

-Don’t let your gender define what you do.

-Most importantly, don’t be too worried about what other people think about your work. Not everyone is going to get it. 

In case you missed them, here are the other posts in the series. We talked about Stephen King, Wes Craven, George Romero, and R.L Stine.

Quiet Apocalypse is available now for preorder on Smashwords and Amazon.

The end of the world began with a winter storm.

Sadie’s quiet life is interrupted when a tree crushes the roof of her attic apartment. She’s forced to move to a smaller apartment in the building. Then, her aunt guilts her into clearing an ouija board of a particularly irritating spirit. 

But it wasn’t just the roof that was broken by the tree. There was something trapped within the building, waiting. Waiting to wake and bring about the end of the world. 

Not with screams, but with silence. 

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you found value in this post, you can buy me a cup of coffee on Ko-fi. 

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Horror Subgenres, Part Three

Just in case you missed them, here are links to part one and part two.

Horror of demonic

Some of these subgenres are pretty self-explanatory. Like this one. This subgenre is based on the theory that the world is a dark, dangerous, and scary place. And that it is that way because of demonic beings who want to destroy our very souls. 

Most possession stories would fall squarely into this category, like The Exorcist or The Exorcism of Emily Rose. And of course, Rosemary’s Baby. 

Horror of personality

When I first read about this subgenre, I thought it sounded a lot like a cult of personality. And I wasn’t that surprised to find out I was right.

Horror of personality revolves around one person. They usually don’t have any sort of supernatural abilities or magic. Unless being a psycho is a superpower now.

This is the subgenre in which our serial killers fit. Our crazy cult leaders. So one real fun example of this subgenre is American Horror Story Cult. You can read all about what I thought of that series on Haunted MTL.

Japanese Horror

Japanese storytelling differs from American in many ways. Their horror tends to be more psychological than ours. You’ll find a lot of ghost stories. And, of course, some of the scariest damn urban legends I have ever heard. The amount of screaming, long-haired vengeful spirits these people have is amazing. 

Of course, the most well-known film to come from Japan is Kwaidan. You might know it better from the name of its American adaptation, The Ring.

Jiangshi fiction

I didn’t know this was a thing until I started doing research for this series. And I’m so glad I found out about it! 

This subgenre revolves around reanimated corpses, controlled by Taoist priests. 

That’s right, this is about zombies. Specifically, Chinese zombies. And that is so cool.

I haven’t yet gotten a chance to watch any of these films, but I want to. Some great examples of this subgenre are Spraying water and Demonic Corpses. 

Lovecraftian Horror

See, I told you we’d get to this. 

Lovecraftian horror is about the least cheerful thing you can imagine. It’s based on cosmic dread. A dark, terrifying, Elder God horror that we mere mortals cannot hope to escape from. 

The distinguishing feature of Lovecraftian horror is that there is no escaping the horrific end for the main character. It’s not a situation where you can outsmart the bad death. You didn’t do anything to incite the bad death. It simply came for you, like a force of nature, and took you. And no matter how clever you might be, how good of a person you might be, you’re not getting away.

Surprisingly, Lovecraft Country isn’t actually a Lovecraftian story. If you don’t remember, this book was so good it made it onto my top ten list for 2021.

Some good examples of Lovecraftian horror are 2019’s The Lighthouse. And the absolutely horrific movie, The Mist. 

Macabre 

Macabre is not a form of storytelling, at least not in literal words on the page sort of way. It’s art about death.

It is no surprise that macabre art has been with mankind as long as we’ve been on this earth. Death has always been a mystery, coming with emotions that are too great to contain. And so, it comes out in art. 

You can find examples of Macabre art almost anywhere. But my personal favorite is the collection of bone chandeliers you can find. Not one, but several people in the history of the world thought, “You know what this room needs? Some human bones dangling from the ceiling to hold candles.”

You know what, this is pretty cool. When I die, someone please make me into a chandelier. Read by my light.

That’s it for this installment. I’ll be back soon with part four.

Don’t forget, you can preorder my latest book, Quiet Apocalypse now on Amazon and Smashwords.

The end of the world began with a winter storm.

Sadie’s quiet life is interrupted when a tree crushes the roof of her attic apartment. She’s forced to move to a smaller apartment in the building. Then, her aunt guilts her into clearing an ouija board of a particularly irritating spirit. 

But it wasn’t just the roof that was broken by the tree. There was something trapped within the building, waiting. Waiting to wake and bring about the end of the world. 

Not with screams, but with silence. 

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you found something of value in this post, please consider buying me a cup of coffee on Ko-fi.

3

Horror Subgenres, Part One

I once did a series about science fiction subgenres and it was pretty popular. So sometime later I decided to do a series about fantasy subgenres. It was also fun, and also still popular. 

Now that I’m getting ready to publish my first horror book, it seemed like a great time to dive into one more collection. So today we begin a six-part series about the many different subgenres that horror can fall into. Horror is as varied and complex as are those of us who love it. Sometimes it’s bright and shiny, blood and guts spilling out while a sexy blond lets out a braying, insane laugh. Sometimes it’s a man alone in a room with his memories. Sometimes it’s a whisper from under a bed, or in a closet. Sometimes it’s the sound of chewing, grinding teeth.

Sometimes, it’s a scream.

I love horror, in almost any form. So let’s talk about what different flavors we can experience when partaking in the horror genre.

(Note: much of my research was done on Wikipedia. If you like this, consider donating to them.)

Art house Horror

Sometimes called elevated horror, art-house horror is a more sophisticated example of the genre. At least, that’s what it would like to be. It’s not about jump scares or a room full of blood. It’s more about subtle, psychological chills. It’s a horror that might not gross you out but instead upset you on a more basic level.

I’m not a huge fan of this subgenre. I think horror suffers when the artists start crawling up their own asses. But when it’s done well, it’s exemplary. Some notable examples of art-house horror are Get Out, The Babadook, A Quiet Place, and The Shining. Art house horror seems to be having a moment. And while I’m thrilled to see more artists exploring the genre, I wouldn’t mind a few more slasher flicks.

Body Horror

Body horror explores body mutilation. It’s the rotting zombies, the bloated corpses. This subgenre relies on the gross-out factor, but it can go beyond that. The way this horror subgenre works best is when it preys upon our sympathies. When we see a mutilated body, it’s awful. When we start wondering what it would be like to live through that sort of mutilation, that’s where it starts getting really scary.

House of A Thousand Corpses is the first film that comes to mind with this subgenre. But really, almost any slasher flick is going to have components of this. Everything from the Scream Franchise to Hannibal. And the reason is simple. As Stephen King says, we’re afraid of the bad death. Body horror explores bad death to the extreme. 

Cthulhu mythos

I used to have a virtual pet Cthulhu on my tablet. It’s not super relevant to this. It’s just an example of a creature that was once feared being turned into a cuddly cartoon. 

As the name would apply, Cthulhu mythos is stories that contain Cthulhu as a character. He is the original creepypasta when you think about it. One great writer, HP Lovecraft, made him up. Now everyone writes about him.

The character first appeared in the holy Weird Tales in 1928. And Cthulhu has continued to capture hearts, and unwary sea goers, ever since. Some fun examples of this subgenre are The Color of Outer Space and the 2005 movie, The Call of Cthulhu. 

(Note, this subgenre differs from Lovecraftian, which we’ll be talking about later in this series.)

Eighteenth-Century Gothic

This is a subgenre we can’t reproduce, as it only describes stories written in a specific time frame. From 1760 to 1820 to be specific. But we can copy the style, and that’s something.

Eighteenth-century gothic was all about taking medieval stories and giving them a ‘modern’ feel. I mean, modern for the eighteenth century, of course.

There were a lot of supernatural elements to these stories. It’s described as supernatural plots with emotionally realistic characters. Ghosts haunting castles. Dead loved ones returning with cryptic messages. All things dark and eerie, but also uptight and proper. Some examples of this subgenre would be The Castle of Otranto and The Old English Baron.

Erotic horror

Porn. This is porn. It’s Dracula shirtless spilling blood over his chest, then going down on the three vampire seductresses. It’s a woman being undressed and screwed silly by a ghost. It’s a wet dream that gets you pregnant for real. 

There’s almost always an element of sex in horror. Sex is both the best and most terrifying thing most of us can think of. Think how many horror movies have a sexy time scene right before someone gets slashed to bits. It’s even one of the three rules for surviving a horror film. Don’t have sex. Don’t drink or do drugs. And don’t say I’ll be right back. But the first, and most important, is don’t have sex.

Often sex is the lure that ends someone’s life. A hot blond girl or dark mysterious man sweet talks you into going somewhere more private with you. Erotic horror just goes ahead and shows you all the good bits before the gory ones.

And I swear, it’s like half of American Horror Story Hotel. There is just a lot of sex in that season.

Fantastique

Fantastique is fantasy horror, which I’ve discussed at length. But apparently, it’s a big thing in France.

One distinction of Fantastique is that there is little to no explanation regarding the supernatural elements. Things just are what they are. There is magic. There are dragons. There is a thousand armed monster who lives under that house and will rip you apart if you go in there. No, we don’t need to know where it comes from. It’s just there. 

And I kind of love that. I love that there’s just no explanation. There’s no explanation why this horrifying thing is. It just is. 

That’s it for this time. But I’ll be back soon with more horror subgenres to explore. 

And don’t forget to pre-order Quiet Apocalypse now on Amazon or Smashwords.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you enjoyed this post, please consider buying me a cup of coffee on Ko-fi. 

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