The First Scare

By: Naomi Khanna

Even after we turn off the movie or close the book, we replay the scariest moments of a horror story in our minds. And chances are we will remember what caused us to register our initially terror, whether it be a scary face or horrifying words uttered by the villain. Whether it’s the first story that scared us as a child, or the most recent, identifying with an element of a horror story, helps prime our initial fear. Furthermore, when a child is the audience of a horror story, clear cut elements allow kids to insert themselves into the story amplifying the scary scenario. In other words, it raises the stakes for the child, making the story feel more real. For example, a scary story around a campfire about a murderer running loose in the woods, preys on the fact that while the story is told, the listeners are typically in the middle of a dark woods. This experience of scary stories and urban legends are often shared with children. Furthermore, identifying with a character of a horror story amplifies the terror felt by the reader or audience.

The first piece of media that scared me was in a Doctor Who episode titled “The Empty Child”. When I was around age eight, while I was alone and away from my parents at camp. The part of the episode that truly horrified me was the little kid with a gas mask plastered to his face going around asking people if they were his “mummy”. While searching for his mother, all the other children he encountered grew a gas mask upon their face and went around asking if people were their “mummies” in a transfixed tone.  As a young kid who was away from her parents the angle of the episode that scared me was the vulnerability of a lost child. Not to mention the gas mask face was just a terrifying being to look at. This threatened what I knew at the time as safe, amplifying the fear. Even when I closed my eyes, I could see a gas mask on the inside of my eyes and hear the frightened boy’s “are you my mummy?” ringing in my ears. While Doctor Who has had many scary villains since, such as Weeping Angels, stone statues who attack when you look away, and glass face dolls that are manifestations of fears, it is the gas mask children that first haunted my thoughts.

Most people remember the first story that terrified them as a child, even if not inherently classified as horror. After surveying some of my friends, many people remember the first movie that scared them was the original Jumanji movie. Much like my experience with “The Empty Child”, Jumanji takes something sacred to a kid, a game, and turns it into a nightmarish experience.

Horror artists often contextualize their stories within a root of reality, allowing their audience to engage with their work on a deeper level, amplifying the terror. Children in horror prey on the fact that most people view that kids symbolize innocence. So, having children at the center of a scary story, contradicts this ideal view of kids causing the level of terror inflicted to be augmented. In this way, horror stories that involve kids and hold onto their scary elements even for an older audience. While I don’t identify with the gas mask child of Doctor Who, the episode can still be considered horrifying because the audience can see nature of the kids’ fear and innocence being twisted into something evil. Using children at the center of horror allows for the terror to span generations and engage with audience of all ages.

I Want to Scream

By: Brian Song

As someone who grew up with a father who was very logical and science/technology focused, I typically don’t believe in the supernatural or paranormal. I believe that even some of the wildest experiences or occurrences can be explained by logic and science. But just for one night, I didn’t believe that there was a logical or scientific explanation.

Nightmares and sleep paralysis aren’t the most uncommon things. I experience nightmares occasionally, and if I’m not aware it’s a nightmare, I will definitely feel fear while experiencing it. Sleep paralysis usually comes bundled in with nightmares for some reason, and usually while I’m still half asleep. It’s a weird experience since my eyes are closed yet I can still “see” the room around me but I’m unable to move. This would also be terrifying but the one saving grace during this is that I can typically wiggle my toes, and doing that gets the rest of my body to wake up fully.

But there was one experience that really shook me at the time. It was a typical nightmare scenario: walking down a street during a bright day, then I see a creepy looking house that’s in the middle of a weirdly dark area in the middle of the day. Then I’m suddenly inside the house where it’s nearly pitch black and it had turned to night outside. I’m not really scared at this point, just walking through the house. Looking back on it now, it was already pretty clear this was a nightmare, but that thought hadn’t entered my mind at the time. I was just walking through a dark and creepy house without a care in the world.

What clued me into the fact that it was a nightmare was the feeling of someone staring at me. Well, not just a feeling like that occasional feeling like you’re being watched while alone at night. It was knowing with absolute certainty like knowing that grass is green or that birds fly that something was watching me. But no matter how much I turned around, I knew that, whatever it was, was always just outside my vision. At this point, I started running, hearing something chasing me, though every time I looked back I would still see nothing. Then I get hit by that classic nightmare thing where as much as I try to run, I don’t move.

This is where I get caught by the thing, and a face appears. It’s been long enough to where I don’t remember the exact details of the thing, but I remember that it had bleached white skin and an impossibly large gaping mouth and it just started screaming. I wake up, and in any other nightmare, that’s it. I have a bit of a fright then completely forget the dream in a few minutes.

But this time, when I wake up, the face is still in front of me, screaming. I can hear it at full volume, fully awake. I can’t move any part of my body. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. I couldn’t tell how much time passed where I could hear the screaming. When the screaming finally stops and I’m finally able to move, I immediately get the hell out of my room. I check the time to see that it had only been twenty minutes since I had last checked the clock, meaning that had all happened, from me falling asleep to the screaming ending, within the span of less than twenty minutes.

This experience absolutely spooked me, to the point where I slept in my parent’s room for a week afterwards, when I was just moving from middle to high school. For that week, every time I stepped into my room, I would feel that same feeling of something watching me. I hadn’t ever experienced anything like that, nor have I ever felt such fear before or since, and that feeling of something watching me never returned. I’d like to believe that there’s a scientific explanation behind this experience, but I’m not so sure. It truly felt like I had been visited by something that night.

Coraline: The Best Film to Make You Cry for Your Mom

By: Nic Kodkany

Despite the fact that I was an enormous wuss-puss as a child who could literally not handle the Harry Potter films for its ghosts and giant spiders, the children’s horror film Coraline was and remains one of my favorite films ever. Imaginative animation, dark, whimsical scenes, a relatable yet sardonic protagonist, and a talking cat all in one emotion-packed whirlwind makes it an incredibly memorable watching experience for not just children, but adults alike. The main conflict of the film – Coraline having to choose her place in two polarizing worlds, the dull reality with her busy, uninterested parents and the vivid wonderland version of her home with equally fantastical parents – follows a theme that many children’s films aim to encapsulate: the “be careful what you wish for” lesson that is old as time itself. As a child, I never cared much for this advisory theme, but Coraline did an excellent job at drilling that lesson in because it tugs on the heartstrings that kids deny having as they grow older – the heartstrings of love for one’s parents. The greatest part of the film is the polarity of Coraline’s real parents and her Other parents, primarily her mother and her Other Mother because it encapsulates the imagination that children stray into versus the home they cling to in comfort.

I loved the Other world so much that I would have likely thrown Coraline out of the way and sewn buttons on my eyes at the chance of perusing a fantasy version of my home. I will give an important disclaimer: I love my parents very much, and they love me too! Yet I identified strongly with Coraline’s personality as a child; bored with myself and irritated at the world around me for being so boring, I loved annoying my parents for something to do as they worked and dreaded my whining. Watching Coraline, I wanted to crawl through the mesmerizing violet and blue portal into a new, colorful, exciting world that was familiar yet so full of fantasy. I watched the dinner scene and craved a mango milkshake that descended from the dining room chandelier. The Other mother lured me just as she did to Coraline with her soothing voice and enthusiasm to entertain her child; I wanted to walk through the gardens with dragonflies and glowing flora next to my Other father. As children, we do not care about why our real parents cannot always give us fantasy; with an undeveloped theory of mind, we are egocentric and want our parents to devote themselves to our every creative want. This is why the Other Mother’s character is so genius; her hunting method is to find lonely, bored children and lure them into a world of magic and wonder combined with unconditionally warm and fun parents who would give them anything they ask. Children could look past so many warning signs – friends’ mouths sewn shut, creepy identical dolls that watch you, to name a couple – to have what the Other Mother gives, which is why she has been able to survive for so long, and why Coraline is a unique protagonist for her sharpness and bravery.

Yet towards the second half of the film, after the Other Mother’s evil is revealed, I felt so much emotion for my parents because Coraline delivers a message of life’s balance: when things go up, they must come down too. Furthermore, the balance of the natural world reinforces that things can always be too good to be true. In the video attached, we watch Coraline sleep next to pillows she constructs to look like her parents after the Other Mother abdubts them. I still feel overwhelmingly sad watching that scene because I feel that childlike yearning for my parents; Missing your parents when they are not there is a helpless, scary, and isolated feeling for a child. The deep pit of regret that Coraline feels for taking her parents for granted here drew a feeling of emptiness in me as a child as I pictured sleeping in my parents’ bed without them. Coraline’s regret teaches the watching children that their parents may not be everything they want, but that they are the unconditional providers of protection and warmth, especially in such vulnerable points as Coraline’s throughout the film. While Coraline’s mother is curt and apathetic in the beginning, which is the source of Coraline’s contempt, it becomes evident that Coraline traded these mild flaws for a much greater consequence: losing her mother to a disguised monster. Even picturing losing my mother made me cry dramatically as a child, so this turning point of the film was horrifying to me, and the film drove me to accommodate my selfish dreams in the promise that I could keep my mother. Over a decade later, I am in a new world of freedom and excitement in college, but I call my mother every day because Coraline taught me never to take her for granted in the light of something new and exciting.

Only the Tunnels Know

By: Amber Gehron

Something about passing through the Twin Tunnels that lie peacefully beside the water’s edge on Valley Creek Road, in Downingtown, Pennsylvania has always struck a nerve within me. Driving timidly through the backroads of Chester County with nothing but woods surrounding me and no cell service to rely on leads to a beautiful excursion during the day but an uneasy rise of chills at night. The tunnels seem to go on forever, with cavernous turns and an unnerving sign that reads “Turn Headlights On” at the opening. The radio seizes while my car bumps forward until finally reaching the other side where a new sign questions “Headlights Still On?” and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I have always believed that there was something truly evil that lurks within those tunnels – I have my own experience with that. My first day of kindergarten, I boarded a happy little school bus by myself, being that I was the first stop. My bus driver eagerly drove to pick up the rest of the students, while I sat in the back, reading some Junie B. Jones book that I could not get enough of at the time. Deeply engrossed in my reading, I was shocked when I heard a loud THUNK and my little bus went flying into the grass bed on the side of the road, just outside of the Twin Tunnels. My bus driver ran to the back of the bus and assured me that everything was fine; we were hit by a truck who rounded the corner a bit too fast and hit us on their way into the tunnel. We would be here for a while, she admitted, as for our bus was no longer drivable. I was young so it did not phase me so much as it irritated me that I was missing my first day of classes; however, since then, I couldn’t help but wonder what other incidences occurred within the tunnels’ watchful gaze.

Ever since that encounter, the tunnels seemed to have an ominous glow every time I passed through. When driving to my friends’ houses at night, my mother always bid me warning to try to avoid the tunnel and take the main roads back – something that I never listened to. I liked the uneasiness of the tunnels, and as I got older, I began to understand them.

In 2020, a year of cabin fever and digging my nose into anything that could entertain me, the pandemic led me and my friends to explore and research quite literally every outside crevice of Chester County, Pennsylvania. The Twin Tunnels quickly resurged itself as a topic of fascination for me. Passing through them in the thickness of the night, we indulged in rumors recounting the spine-tingling cries of a ghost baby and the footfalls of the depressed woman who gave the child up. We started to become uneasy as we learned further horrific secrets hushed within the eerie darkness of the tunnel walls. There is so much more that I can say of these horrors, so if you are interested, I would recommend doing some research of your own. What I can make of it is that there seems to be an energy that drawls in various unfortunate incidences within these tunnels, as seen by myself and various other victims. The haunts within these tunnels will forever be one of Chester County’s greatest mysteries and maybe one that should be stirred away from when driving home late at night.

Bibliography

“The Scary Twin Tunnels of Downington, Pennsylvania.” Https://The-Line-Up.com, 15 Dec. 2017, the-line-up.com/the-twin-tunnels-of-downingtown-pennsylvania. Accessed 26 Sept. 2023.

Ghost Adventures came to my hometown. Something amazing happened.

By: Allison Densel

Sudbury is a half-rural, half-suburban town about 40 minutes west of Boston. Founded by Puritan settlers in 1639, it was the backdrop for several early moments in American history, including King Philip’s War and the Battle of Lexington and Concord. As is to be expected of an old New England town, historic buildings are scattered across the landscape. Longfellow’s Wayside Inn is, by far, the most famous.

Longfellow’s Wayside Inn. Photo courtesy of my dad.

Established in 1716 by David How, the Wayside Inn is one of the oldest operating taverns in the United States. Over the years, it has played host to a variety of notable guests, from former presidents to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, whose 1863 poem, “Tales of a Wayside Inn,” lends it its current name. In the late 1920s and 30s, the Inn was owned by Henry Ford, who invested millions of dollars into the preservation and expansion of the property. Several other buildings were added, including a chapel, an old-style schoolhouse (allegedly the inspiration for “Mary Had a Little Lamb”), and a grist mill, which still makes its own flour and corn-meal. Today, the Wayside Inn functions primarily as a restaurant and tavern, and is a popular venue for weddings.

It’s also haunted.

The How (later Howe) family owned the Wayside Inn for several generations. Eventually, ownership passed into the hands of Lyman Howe (d. 1861), who spent most of his tenure as innkeeper drinking himself into debt. Running the tavern in his stead was his sister, Jerusha. Nicknamed the “Belle of Sudbury,” she was renowned for her charm, beauty, and skill at the piano. Legend has it that one day, an Englishman came to the inn. Jerusha fell in love with him instantly. Wanting to marry her, the man returned to England in order to get his affairs in order, leaving her waiting in Sudbury.

You can probably guess where the story goes from here. According to tradition, Jerusha never saw the man again. She pined after him for the rest of her short life, soon dying of a broken heart. In all likelihood, Jerusha’s untimely death was due to an illness, probably tuberculosis. This view is held by many members of the Wayside Inn Foundation, which conducts historical research and focuses on educational outreach.

Although the exact details of Jerusha’s story have been lost to time, the legacy of the Belle of Sudbury continues to live on. Visitors to the inn can attest to this, particularly those who stay in Room 9, Jerusha’s former quarters. All kinds of paranormal activities have been reported by guests and staff, from disembodied voices, shadowy figures, ghostly piano music, to the smell of her perfume lingering in the air. Male guests have reported some particularly interesting experiences; a presence at the foot of the bed, being touched while alone in the room, and even a presence climbing into the bed with them.

Enter Ghost Adventures.

For their Valentine’s Day special in 2011, the infamous ghost-hunting show visited the Wayside Inn. In keeping with the theme, host Zak Bagans takes it upon himself to woo Jerusha. During the actual investigation, this amounts to little more than him making passes at her, begging her to touch him. Bagans is a man of class, however, recognizing that it takes more than harassment to win a woman’s heart. Channeling his inner Shakespeare, he composes a romantic poem for Jerusha. I’m not a Ghost Adventures expert, but I personally think that what follows is perhaps the most significant moment in the entire series, if not the history of paranormal research itself.

Behold.

Despite the fact that the scene is clearly staged, that fall looks pretty genuine. I’d like to think Jerusha made that ice extra slippery for him.

Normally, I don’t make fun of people’s pain. However, there is something to be said about how paranormal investigators, and the “dark tourism” industry as a whole, treat historical spaces. Far too often, programs like Ghost Adventures are exploitative, making a spectacle out of real tragedies in order to turn a profit. While the history of the Wayside Inn is not as grim as that of a prison or hospital, generations of people still lived and died there, including Jerusha. I also take issue with how ghost hunters play into the legend, reducing Jerusha to a lovesick damsel or worse. Take, for example, Apple TV’s summary of the special:

She has a name!

This kind of content not only does a disservice to these spaces, but it detracts from their genuine historical value. Fortunately for the Wayside Inn, there is so much history that the haunting is only a small part of the whole experience. Regardless, I think it’s fitting that, even in death, Jerusha continues to serve the Inn, bringing in lovers of the paranormal year after year.

Sources

Hinkle, Jeannette. “Is a ghost haunting the Wayside Inn in Sudbury? Two experts weigh in.” Metrowest Daily News, October 28, 2021. https://www.metrowestdailynews.com/story/news/2021/10/28/wayside-inn-sudbury-ma-henry-wadsworth-longfellow-poem-ghost-story-legends/8352465002/

“Our Story.” Wayside.org. https://www.wayside.org/our-story/

The Purge Movies Deserve Their Own Genre

By: Madeline Weekley

When asked what my favorite horror movie is, I hesitate to say The Purge. I feel like it’s a lowbrow response, especially with the existence of such well-thought-out horror movies like Get Out and Midsommar. The characters in The Purge are objectively flat, the acting is nothing special, and the dialogue is cheesy. Yet, I am fascinated by the films, and I continue to watch and enjoy each one in the series. I couldn’t understand what pulled me into these films and left me thinking about them for weeks after a first watch. That was until I realized what makes The Purge franchise entirely unique — its genre.

For those who haven’t seen any of The Purge movies, they revolve around a government-sponsored night where all crime is legal for 12 hours. They use different sets of characters in each movie, and there are typically three separate groups of characters that the movie switches focus between as the deadly night plays out. It always ends with a lot of people dead and a few main character survivors.

The Purge falls into a rare and special category which I refer to as realistic dystopian horror. It is a genre that does not technically exist. I define it as a movie that depicts a society different from our own, one that has the capability to exist, with the same slasher and horror aesthetics as classic horror films.

To further explain, The Purge falls between two different common genres. The first is realistic dystopian that doesn’t classify as horror and the second is dystopian horror that contains fantasy and is therefore unrealistic. Some films that fall into the first genre include The Hunger Games and The Handmaids Tale which are, unsurprisingly, my favorite motion pictures. Films in the second genre would be any movie where the world is overcome by zombies or some type of alien group.

This realistic dystopian premise is what makes The Purge movies so unique. I don’t care about the characters. I don’t even remember their names. The concept that the government makes crimes legal is obviously far-fetched, but it is possible. When I watched the movies, it made me genuinely wonder what would happen if our government sanctioned such a horrific event. Where would I hide? Who would I trust? Which people in my life might go out and purge? These thoughts kept me engaged during the movie and long after.

Additionally, The Purge franchise explores socioeconomic issues and politics in a way that makes subtle commentary on our modern world. In The First Purge, the plot revolves around a political organization offering $5000 for anyone willing to participate in the first purge experiment. It is mainly underprivileged people who risk their lives by accepting this offer. In other Purge movies, rich people pay money to kill poor people. The films also highlight the differences between the security systems of a wealthy family versus a poor family. The gaps in privilege are made clear, and I think this focus on politics and relationships between socioeconomic classes makes this movie deeper than many people realize.

A lot of people disagree, however, and cannot move past the seemingly repetitive plot line throughout the movies and the shallow dialogue. A review on IMBD by “Wubsthefadger” rated the movie a 4/10 and said, “the story is full of clichés such as stupid teenage kids, bad decisions, and clueless villains.” To that I say, exactly. The world is full of those things too. The Purge movies are about how American citizens would respond if given the opportunity to commit crimes without legal repercussions. There are plenty of clueless villains and stupid teenagers in America, so of course that is who is shown in the movie. I appreciate the realness of the characters and the bad choices they make.

In fact, I love the authenticity of the concept itself. The American government makes lots of questionable decisions, so maybe the movie is not as far-fetched as it appears. I’m not saying that they would hold an actual purge, but the fact that it’s not impossible makes The Purge movies that much more horrifying and intriguing. The rarity of the genre itself allows me to look past any cliches or acting flaws and enjoy the continuous question of “what if” that the realism of the movie franchise proposes.

Works Cited

WubsTheFadger. Comment on “IMBD The Purge User Reviews.” IMBD, 12 February, 2018. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2184339/reviews

DeMonaco, James. The Purge. Universal Pictures, 2013.

Transcending Body Horror

By: Silvie Rowe

Horror draws a wide array of people, especially the “outcasts” of our society. Furthermore, the queer community with the alienation and fear they feel in their own lives. Body Horror is a specific genre element that allows transgender people to relate to. Some people find their gender dysphoria explained through the supernatural transformations done in literature or film.

For example, The Exorcist depicts Regan, a young girl, being plagued and possessed by “Satan” himself. Male puberty is similar to the effects of the devil on her body. We witness the uncanny sight of a deep voice, his voice, on a cisgender girl. Vocal masculinization is an issue transgender women face without puberty blockers. In further scenes, we see her skin cracking. Objectively, her skin is “gross,” and her youthful appearance is gone. Testosterone has similar effects on male children. The hormone is a cause of acne, which is why you see transmasculine individuals who are transitioning, assigned female at birth, breaking out heavily. Regardless, a trans woman watching this film would resonate with the changes to Regan’s face. The hormone leads to other bone changes– a stronger jawline or browline. I envy Regan’s ending because she gets to ‘magically’ have the effects of the devil to be reversed. Because it isn’t that easy in reality, and there are repercussions.

Society treats trans people as monstrosities when they do not “pass” or abide by gender roles or standards. Alienation occurs when an individual does not confine themself to socio-cultural expectations– whether by choice or not. Frankenstein relays this queer experience. From dead remains, the “monster” is created and disregarded. He stays secretly at a family’s house, yearning for human connection with them. The family he has grown to “love” rejects him because of his appearance. Frankenstein’s creation is a hideous monster to them. He runs away and strikes vengeance on his maker, killing a child on his way. The “monster” only asks Frankenstein to create another– a wife for him. The creation always wanted love and a family. Frankenstein refuses, sealing the fate of him and the people he cares for. We can interpret the story as an allegory of the trans experience. We come from flesh or bodies that aren’t ours. We are “closeted” and hide our identity from our families until we can’t– out of desperation to see us and utter vulnerability with those around us. As a result, ejection and alienation are predominantly universal experiences. People and the media claim you’re a “dangerous monster” among them. The adversity leads you to hatred of the world, your creator. Trans people all kill “a child,” according to their parents, their “little girl” or boy. Like Frankenstein’s monster, this community simply wants to experience humanity and connection– love. But they are met with isolation.

These pieces of fictional horror are fear-inducing for me as a trans woman, finding similarities to my experience and the body horror my community faces. Now we all know these writers or directors didn’t produce these literary devices to explain transgender theory or queer experiences. But something is entrancing with the genre’s capability to allow others to relate to the thrilling exposure of dark material. If you try, we can find refuge and understanding in horror.

Works Cited

Friedkin, William, director. The Exorcist. The Exorcist Uncut Version, 1973, max.com. Accessed 2023.

Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, et al. Frankenstein. Pearson Education, 2019. 

Horror Transcends—How Horror Informs Billie Eilish’s Music

By: Erin Toole

The horror genre has taken on many forms throughout history, which can be seen through the changing mediums storytellers have used to scare their audiences. The more common mediums horror has utilized include novels, short stories, poems, comics, films, television, and even videogames. There are some mediums of horror, however, that often go unnoticed such as music videos.

To look at how the horror genre has influenced the music industry, I’d like to take a closer look at one of my favorite artists, Billie Eilish. Tonight, as I was forcing five of my roommates to sit and watch Billie’s music videos, I thought about the plethora of horror elements she plays with in her lyrics and visuals. So, without further ado, here’s an analytical list of, in my opinion, the top three most horror-inspired music videos from Billie Eilish.

bury a friend

“bury a friend” is arguably one of Eilish’s creepiest music videos, and I think it’s due to her utilization of common horror elements seen throughout the genre. Eilish uses fears that her audiences can relate to, body horror, and supernatural elements in order to scare. We first see Eilish portrayed as a demon, with her eyes turned black, sitting underneath a sleeping person’s bed, which plays into the “monster under the bed” fear most of us experienced as children. Then, she is seen standing over the sleeping person, which plays into the “someone’s watching me” fear. It’s common for horror stories to depict fears coming to fruition because it unlocks the “what if?” in our brains. Your parents always told you that nothing was under the bed, but what if your fears were rational or even realized? Eilish also uses fears such as loss of control and body horror throughout this video. From being possessed by a demon to being manhandled by gloved hands or being locked in a room alone, Eilish no longer has control over herself, which is horrifying to watch. It’s terrifying because the audience is left wondering what’s going on and their minds are free to make up their own worst scenarios. Eilish then mixes a fear of needles with body horror as we watch her get violently injected with syringes that turn her veins black. This is a gross-out scene, and it’s unsettling. It might even turn viewers’ stomachs. Other moments of sickening body horror include times where her limbs contort in unnatural ways—this often occurs while she’s dancing down the creepy hallway. Finally, Eilish utilizes supernatural elements to drive her horror story home. She’s possessed by a demon, resulting in her ability to float down the hallway in thin air, which is scary as it’s unexplained by our reality. Then, during my favorite moment of the video, Eilish hangs upside down in a back-bend. This visual is quite reminiscent of the director’s cut/theatrical re-release of The Exorcist, where Reagan does her infamous spider-walk.

all the good girls go to hell

This video starts with Eilish grotesquely growing wings after the injections seen in “bury a friend.” These wings rupture through her skin, giving another example of body horror to gross-out the viewer. Then, after falling from the sky and into a puddle of black oil, Eilish emerges looking like a bird, slick with pollution. Behind her, the Earth erupts into flames. Besides the obvious references to Christianity, like lucifer and heaven, symbols often used to spook consumers, Eilish’s video is horrifying because of its commentary—its natural horror. Both visuals and lyrics work together to discuss climate change. She shows us what the world will look like if the “hills [keep burning] in California” and what will happen “when there’s nothing left to save,” and it’s horrifying.

you should see me in a crown

This video made the list because Eilish allows spiders to crawl all over her and her mouth. None of this video is fake, adding to the horror of it. I suppose it’s not that bad if spiders are your jam, but for someone who cries over ladybugs, I’ve never made it through the entire video. Eilish again, delivers horror by preying on the fears of her audience.

When Horror Goes Too Far (Can Horror Go Too Far?) — McKamey Manor

By: Grace Bruno

Freshman year of high school I visited the “grown up” haunted house near me. All October long you can find a line wrapped around the building full of jittery teens ready and waiting for a good haunt. Erebus Haunted Attraction in Pontiac, Michigan was the place to go for Halloween. This was my first haunted house that had an experience pushing an hour long and real human actors as a part of the attraction. I went with some friends and loved every second of it. I felt like I had experienced real life horror. I especially loved the way I felt after completing the haunted house, so full of enthrallment and accomplishment, and immediately looked for more attractions near me. Upon a deep search of other haunted houses, I came across McKamey Manor; this finding quickly made me realize what I had experienced was far from real horror.

Founded by Russ McKamey in San Diego several years ago, McKamey Manor evolved from a kid friendly haunted house to go to on Halloween night, into a complete torture chamber. As stated by one of the haunt’s horror directors: “This is immersive horror where you become the star of the show” (1:30). It models a horror movie where you are the main character fighting to survive. Years after discovering this immersive torture house, Hulu, just this week, released a documentary exposing McKamey Manor’s true horrors titled: Monster Inside, America’s Most Extreme Haunted House. The manor creates a personalized narrative using tactics of both horror and revulsion, combining all your biggest fears. All you need to do in order to participate in the haunt is to sign a 40 page waiver, get medically cleared, and donate four cans of dog food. The horror is found within the waiver’s fine print. By signing Russ McKamey’s waiver, you are acknowledging the possibility of being drugged, having teeth pulled, experiencing brain injuries, bones broken, and more. Every version of torture imaginable is possible here and, even more disturbing, Russ McKamey videotapes and livestreams every second of it. Is there a separation between horror and torture? Is torture the line to signal when horror has gone too far?

This experience is called a “tour” and is designed to last ten hours. When compared to my, not even hour long, experience where the actors could not touch you but rather popped out and said “boo”, I was in shock. McKamey Manor is unlike any other haunted house and has caused immense controversy amongst horror fanatics. Cities and towns throughout its existence have refused access for the extreme haunt to come to their location. Throughout this semester we have learned that horror as a genre has not always been widely accepted, but McKamey Manor is not accepted at all. Its only fans are those who seek extreme haunts. With a waitlist of 27,000 people, the manor is able to contain a fan base willing to experience its torture tours. As described by a past participant of the “tour”: “The more people who said don’t do it… the more I wanted to” (18:04).

Horror is supposed to make its audience feel things. It is intended to be immersive and generate adrenaline rushing dear, in the form of literature and in film. There must be limitations to this goal. The horror an audience member feels while reading Dracula or watching Alien differs largely from the horror a participant in McKamey Manor would endure (if you could even classify that as horror). Horrifying things are intended to frighten their audience, but not to actually harm them, physically, emotionally, or mentally. McKamey Manor, I believe, bypasses the line from horror into torture when it harms its participants in this extreme this way. Revulsion is an aspect of horror, per Carroll’s definition, which gets its horror factor from being obscenely disgusting. I argue, however, that revulsion too has a limit in which McKamey Manor pushes.

Needless to say, my love for haunted houses will bring me nowhere near this torture tour, though I fear it will remain in business, luring in horror fanatics as the ultimate test of America’s most extreme haunted house. I believe McKamey Manor is where Horror goes too far.

Works Cited

Hulu. Monster Inside Official Trailer. Youtube, 2023.

Renzi, Andrew. Monster Inside, America’s Most Extreme Haunted House. Hulu, 2023.

What you Least Expect

By: Silvie Rowe

I was introduced to horror as a child through crisp charcoal, the desire for smores, and the wind of a fall night. There is an uncanny feeling of endearment for this moment, embracing the thin line of fear and excitement. “Campfire stories” are historical— folklore depends on it. It’s not the burning wood but the spreading of verbal words. Storytelling illuminated folktales, leading to the formation of the horror genre. It all led to a theme or societal message.

But what about the one my small-town grandma told me? A woman strolls into a gas station, buying gas from a conventionally unattractive, creepy-looking man. The clerk locks the door and stumbles upon his words. She yells for him to open the door. “Ma’am, please wait!” he utters to her. The woman rushes out; the man attempts to stop her. Her vehicle leaves the lot, witnessing the man scream out to her. “Stop! Stop!” he wails to the alarmed woman. The clerk begins to start his engine, chasing after her on wheels. The pursuit meets the highway— why is he following her?! The scared woman floors it; he accelerates behind her. The creepy man’s headlights turn on and off. At one point, he slams into the back of her motor vehicle. The police come to the scene, and she exits the beaten car. Anger is her emotion, yelling and arguing with the clerk. “Look in the backseat!” he finally mouths to her. The police officers check and escort a hooded man throwing a knife on the concrete. The storyteller, my paternal grandmother, sends chills down our spines.

“Every moment the headlights were on, blinding her and the killer– he kept her safe!” she whispers amongst the simmering fire. Her story had a spin on the original Killer in the Backseat. Her charisma heightened our fear of the unknown. We must tell our version of the story when we talk about folklore, especially horror-esq. You can never recreate a specific instance of storytelling. Telephone, the game children play, showcases human mistranslations of the original. But we’re still left with something. It’s a memory and genuine human experience, telling a theme about society. I may have checked the backseat of a car for weeks, but it’s more than the literal plot. It’s about not knowing the real enemy in your life, who to trust and to expect the unknown to some degree.

Despite the mistranslations or differing minor details, the folk tale still leaves us with a universal message. In an alternate ending, the woman dies. In another version of Killer in the Backseat,  the “creepy” man is a lumberjack. We still know what it all means. It’s beautiful the heart of the story remains no matter the storyteller who spreads the tale. We distrust the man because of his appearance, assuming he has ill intentions. He is the hero of Killer in the Backseat, preventing her death or at least trying. Despite the story’s potentially sexist ideas of the woman’s naiveness and cluelessness, we know the original writer or speaker’s point. She profiled him incorrectly, causing her life to be on the line. What resonated with me and my storyteller is not judging someone based on what society tells you. She lives in the country around people who dislike people based on things they can’t control. “You can’t judge a book by its cover” is what we’re getting at. And despite the grim severity of the horror genre, Killer in the Backseat leaves us with respecting and being kinder to the people we interact with. The ironic truth is that horror can lead to the betterment of society.