Despite the 90 degree weather in Claremont, it is, in fact, October. That can only mean one thing: it’s spooky season, baby!
But what if the idea of a horror movie or haunted house attraction fills you with dread? Never fear, scaredy cats. Your local horror columnist, in her infinite wisdom and benevolence, has put together a guide on how to transform your fear into a genuine love for horror, based on my own personal experience.
That’s right, I once was a horror virgin like you. And now look at me: the Carrie Bradshaw of horror columnists. Instead of Aidan or Mr. Big, I’m prepared to ruin my life for Mike Flanagan.
Since childhood, I’ve been terrified of everything. In middle school, plagued by various anxiety disorders, I could barely order at a restaurant or deviate from my regular routine without breaking down in tears.
I refused to watch PG-13 movies until my 13th birthday, and obsessively looked up every film on Common Sense Media before I could see it, in fear that I would accidentally traumatize myself by watching the wrong thing.
I had a fear of fear itself, and I despised the unknown.
“I had a fear of fear itself, and I despised the unknown.”
Horror is all about the unknown. The torturously slow walk down the dark hallway, the hidden identity of the killer behind the mask, the unexpected figure that makes you jump. Basically, an anxious mind’s worst nightmare.
But at the same time, I’ve always been fascinated with spooky media. I found ways to get a glimpse of it while protecting myself as much as possible — reading the plots of scary movies and creepypastas on Wikipedia, or watching YouTube playthroughs of horror games on mute with the window shrunk down to the size of a postage stamp.
My problem with horror wasn’t the subject matter itself. I didn’t have nightmares about Michael Myers or the “Five Nights at Freddy’s” animatronics coming to get me. I just couldn’t handle the stress of the movie-watching experience itself.
In the words of PJ Vogt on The Scaredy Cats Horror Show podcast, “It doesn’t feel like a movie. It feels like you’re watching a movie, and behind you there’s a guy with a baseball bat who’s going to hit you four to six times really hard during the movie … So much of your brain is just like, ‘How bad is this going to be and when’s it going to be bad?’”
For a long time, I accepted that my nervous system just couldn’t handle the guy with the bat, and swore off horror movies as not for me.
Then I watched “Scream” (1996).
Credit to my friend Lucia, who changed the trajectory of my life with her decision to stay in on a Friday night sophomore year and show me a really obscure, underrated little art film called “Scream.” I watched through my fingers, but when it was over, I realized that I had survived.
More than survived — I had a new favorite movie.
Ever since then, I’ve been working my way through horror movie exposure therapy, stepping further and further outside my comfort zone. Horror is like a workout for my anxiety — a safe, controlled environment that lets my mind chew on its worst fears and discover that feeling afraid is something I can get through, not something that needs to be avoided.
“Scream”as baby’s first horror movie is a cliche at this point, but that just speaks to its divine power to convert horror nonbelievers. If you’ve somehow avoided the film thus far, why are you still reading this article? Go watch it right now. The opening ten minutes are the scariest — if you can make it through that, you’re golden.
To be clear, you don’t have to watch horror movies if you don’t want to. You have nothing to prove, and anyone who insists otherwise is an asshole. But if, like me, you feel this itching curiosity to figure out what goes bump in the night, I have some tips.
First, start slow. If you’re a horror virgin, there’s no need to go all the way the first time. Begin with a horror comedy — that’s your “Scream” (1996), “Ready or Not” (2019), “Abigail” (2024) or “Bodies Bodies Bodies” (2022). If horror is all about tension, comedy is the release valve; plus, a satire can take some bite out of the horror formula.
Once that feels doable, start stripping back the comedy and moving up the rickety horror ladder. I recommend bringing a friend along — it’s more fun to scream as a group, and having someone to riff with can help when the going gets tough. The power of friendship is the only reason I survived Hereditary (2018) without shitting my pants.
Being able to laugh away the fear is great, but ultimately you’ll have to embrace the fact that you’re going to be scared. That’s part of it. Instead of shying away from the fear, lean into it. Try not to look up the plot beforehand. Venture into the dark one step at a time. Make friends with the guy with the baseball bat.
With any luck, you’ll emerge from your horror exposure therapy as a true final girl, shedding your previously innocent self in favor of an axe-wielding, blood-splattered, maniacally laughing horror fiend.
Happy watching and happy Halloween!
For all their newfound bravery, Niko Kay Smith SC ’25 still absolutely refuses to watch “Terrifier.” Sorry, it’s just not happening. ‘A Nightmare on 6th St’ is TSL’s horror column, where Niko covers their journey from scaredy cat to rabid horror fan, one movie at a time.
Facebook Comments