Meghan: Hi Wesley! Welcome BACK to Meghan’s Haunted House of Books. It’s always a pleasure having you on. What is your favorite part of Halloween?
Wesley: I think I like the fact that, for at least one month out of the year, most people get into the “horror spirit” to watch cool movies and decorate and celebrate with little kids. As someone who kind of lives Halloween most of the year, it’s fun to see others join in.
Meghan: Do you get scared easily?
Wesley: Unfortunately. My wife can sneak up on me pretty easily and get me fairly often. Can’t say I’m a fan of it.
Meghan: What is the scariest movie you’ve ever seen and why?
Wesley: The Descent. Claustrophobia is a real bitch for me and that film hits all those nasty little buttons.
Meghan: Which horror movie murder did you find the most disturbing?
Wesley: Uncle Frank from Hellraiser. When he’s torn apart by all the hooks and chains at the end, it’s pretty unsettling, even though it cuts away pretty quickly.
Meghan: Is there a horror movie you refused to watch because the commercials scared you too much?
Wesley: Not that I can think of. I remember trailers for The Evil Dead remake were pretty wild and freaky. It’s a shame the film didn’t live up to the hype.
Meghan: If you got trapped in one scary movie, which would you choose?
Wesley: I guess any Romero zombie film. At least I’d have a fighting chance of getting away pretty easily.
Meghan: If you were stuck as the protagonist in any horror movie, which would you choose?
Wesley: Maybe Ethan Hawke in Daybreakers. I think being a vampire and then reverting back to human would be a very interesting experience.
Meghan: What is your all-time favorite scary monster or creature of the night?
Wesley: I’ve always been a big fan of vampires.
Meghan: What is your favorite Halloween tradition?
Wesley: I don’t really have one, but now that I’m a father, I’m hoping I can create some with my son.
Meghan: What is your favorite horror or Halloween-themed song?
Wesley: There’s a song in a Pinkfong and Baby Shark’s Space Adventure Netflix film called “Those Dry Bones” that I find to be particularly catchy.
Meghan: Which horror novel unsettled you the most?
Wesley: Wrath James White‘s The Resurrectionist. I find the idea of someone being able to kill you and then bring you back to life with zero memory of that happening to you incredibly gnarly.
Meghan: What is the creepiest thing that’s ever happened while you were alone?
Wesley: Agreed with the voices. If they were real or in my head, that’s up to you.
Meghan: Which unsolved mystery fascinates you the most?
Cruel Summer — Melissa Braun is a broken woman. Only wanting what’s best for her family, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to mend her fractured relationship with her abusive boyfriend. In a last ditch effort, she hopes the sun and sand of a much-needed Florida vacation will bring them closer together. Patrick Braun is a demoralized kid. Quiet and sullen, he only wants his mother to see her boyfriend’s crippling torment. After years of silence, he refuses to stand by and let the abuse continue to tear them apart.
Hoyt Rainey is a vile man. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he finally takes his anger one step too far. Only this time, he finds himself on the receiving end of his own punishment. Down and down he goes, plunging deeper into the dark blue abyss of the sea.
Melissa and Patrick finally believe they are safe, the trouble now behind them for good. They are wrong.
Gods never really stay dead-they only lie in wait. And when a beast as old as time discovers Hoyt…he, too, won’t stay gone for long.
The nights grow darker, the water flows colder, and the cruelty of summer lives on.
They Come Mostly at Night — A high class restaurant where the food brings out the worst in its patrons…
A man whose mind won’t stay inside his own body…
A mother and daughter’s trip to a zoo full of dead animals…
An Italian immigrant’s idea of the American Dream ripped from his grasp…
A mysterious woman’s unquenchable hunger for negative energy…
Darkness looms ahead in these eleven short stories from the Splatterpunk Award and Imadjinn Award-Winning author Wesley Southard.
Keep the lights on. It’s a long time before sunrise.
Maybe it’s the death of a loved one…or the petrifying fear of hands around your throat…the dread of rejection…or maybe it’s the black, soulless eyes of a child that shatters your sanity…
Within these pages, delirium reigns supreme. You’ll discover how far a prisoner will go to be with his dying wife, and what lurks between the walls of that Louisiana jailhouse to keep him there. You’ll find out how deep a man can cut himself to dig out the past. You’ll meet a college professor whose fear of flying might be the least of his worries. And you’ll learn how a sister’s love for sweet treats can reunite a broken family…whether they want it or not.
Aliens and lot lizards…disembodied lips…the voice of God Himself…
Thirteen stories and a brand new novella from horror author Wesley Southard.
I was in the reception room of a bar in my local regional airport. The man I was there to interview requested this venue specifically, and my career would implode if I did anything to jeopardize this opportunity. Grungy and old, the room just barely met the classification of “clean” and I opted not to order anything to eat. Ice water was fine.
My interview walked in. I’d seen photographs of him and knew the basics of his appearance, but I found myself surprised by how ordinary he looked. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about his face or his height. It could all accurately be called “average” and nobody would argue that. But that’s what made it weird. This man was nothing even close to average or normal and the only thing I observed about him coming towards me was the way he walked. There was a regal quality to it, a gliding gait that conjured images of the Caesars or Habsburgs.
He held out a hand with a smile and I noted the immaculate manicure and state of his hands. His grasp was warm and firm, but not overly so. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat in the grimy chair with no notice of how it would look pressed against his pristine and obviously expensive attire.
“I’m so glad that I have the opportunity to talk to you,” I began.
“Of course,” he smiled back. “I’ve read some of your work and I admire your lean style.”
This man was a fugitive and I wondered for the millionth time since that first correspondence whether I would survive this encounter. He’d contacted me, with a fake name at first, but after several emails back and forth, his real identity came out. Up until the moment he walked into that reception room, I harbored thoughts, and a slight hope, that I was being pranked.
“I’d like to ask you, when I write my piece, do you mind my naming you? Do you mind if I name this location as well? I’m sure it would compromise you, but I can omit certain details.”
“There is no fear in the truth,” he replied lightly. “My name and this location will not compromise me, I promise you. I chose you for this interview, but there is much going on that you know nothing about, and I’ll be keeping it that way. You have access to publications that can tell my story in a way that isn’t a sad, sensational squawking that I so dislike. And you needn’t worry about my focus on you making a turn for the worse. You’re a tool and if you maintain the manners I’ve seen in you thus far, there’s no reason to believe you won’t be getting the story that the rest of your career as a journalist will strive to meet in terms of renown and respect.”
“O-okay,” I stammered. “Well I’d like to start with this meeting place. From what I understand of your usual haunts, particularly those in Baltimore, it’s a few big steps below where you usually like to eat. How did you happen upon this?”
“Make no mistake, I would not eat the food offered in this place, it was simply convenience that brought us here today. As for this general area, well we’re only a two hour drive away from Baltimore and when I liberated myself from my federally imposed confines, I had to make my way back to Baltimore, my home, for a few provisions before I went into total hiding. Being several states away, or even several countries away, is obvious on a level that I find vulgar. I was as safe as a baby in this area, an overlooked town in Eastern Pennsylvania. And this unkempt bar in this small regional airport happens to not have any security cameras aimed towards it.”
“And you’ll be gone from this place before I’m back home, I assume?”
“I’d avoid certain specificities if I were you,” he warned me, his polite tone never wavering.
“Of course, I’m sorry.” He nodded magnanimously.
“Well I have you here, a man of no small amount of celebrity…” I began.
“I detest that word and that categorization,” he interrupted. “I was a man of respect, a man of influence and great education. I’ve been reduced to tabloid fodder and the subject of papers written by little men who consider themselves intellectual titans of the psychiatric field.”
“This fame bothers you?” I asked.
“In the filthy form that it has taken, yes. I prefer to be known for my accomplishments.”
“Forgive me, but I believe that you are known for your accomplishments.” I said.
“I’m known for certain acts that I committed. My time as a consultant with the criminal profilers at the FBI, or my time as one of Baltimore’s most respected psychiatrists, or my extensive experience in the medical field, they’re all lying forgotten in the shadow of the more sensationally-friendly acts that caused the criminal justice system to see fit to lock me away in a dark room for the rest of my natural life being studied by halfwits and made to tolerate the rough rudeness of the staff.”
“Surely you can understand why those acts would supersede your previous accomplishments,” I prodded.
“Of course,” he said, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. The way that he was looking at me made me feel studied…scrutinized…and I was uneasy. “The public at large prefers broad strokes of simplified information, wrung dry of nuance and detail. I am what I did, not what I accomplished.”
“If I may,” I began, “I’d argue that your impressive level of accomplishments and education and sophistication is what made you so ripe for sensationalizing. If an average joe had committed the crimes that you had committed,” I noticed here that his right eye twitched ever so slightly. I redirected. “The things you were accused of,” I corrected. “There would still have been extensive media coverage because of the horrific nature of those actions, but they wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting. There is a long history of people who, erm, commit such acts, and they tend to fit certain molds as you know. They mostly walk around unnoticed. They’re actually extremely normal. But you, you’re an extraordinary character. There’s nothing about you that flies under any sort of radar.”
“Therein lies the fallacy of the techniques of the criminal profilers,” he responded. “Too many factors are too easily dismissed. My extraordinariness, as you call it, was what protected me for so long.”
“May I ask why you did those horrible things?” I knew I was taking a chance. His gaze on me was steady and unwavering and I tried not to fidget or look away from him.
“My house in Baltimore was built in the nineteen twenties. It had beautiful tiling and woodwork, but the plumbing was a disaster. The first plumber that I called in to fix a drainage issue in my basement was two hours late to his appointment and he spit tobacco on my front steps. He claimed that he needed specialized equipment to take care of my problem and that my bill would be double what was promised to me over the phone. I’m happy to pay for services, but I do no appreciate being taken advantage of as a fool. I asked him for his personal card so that I might keep him as a reference for additional services. Two weeks later I served a lovely Loin en Croute with a side of red wine demi-glace to a medical colleague. It was tender and delicious. Of course, I was in need of a new plumber after that, but the next one was clean and efficient and I recommended his work to several people. His name is Davit Sargsyan, and I’m certain he’s still thriving.”
I noticed my mouth was hanging open and I closed it with a snap. He had a Rolodex full of personal cards in his house when it was raided. Many were found to be the cards of missing persons who were never found. These were thought to be among this man’s staggeringly long list of victims.
“’Eat the rude’ was a slogan that became popular with the morbid underbelly of society after your capture,” I said. “Do you think you were providing a service to society? Cleaning up the muck?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that at all,” he said. “Compulsion is a word used frequently when discussing my own brand of mania. I can assure you, the benefit of society was not a main driving force.”
“You’ve been labelled as ‘insane’ and ‘psychotic’ since your capture. How do you feel about that?”
“I’m erudite and have been blessed with a perfect palate, able to distinguish all five tastes with exact accuracy. I’d rather be known for that.”
“Do you want to be divorced entirely from your reputation as a serial killer and cannibal?”
He was very quiet and very still. I thought for a moment that he had even stopped breathing. I started to feel that his good graces were starting to sour and perhaps I wasn’t so safe anymore.
“There are many out there who find my credentials intimidating and the fact that I’ve been labelled a serial killer and cannibal gives them the space to assume superiority over me. That they find my actions deviant and my psyche to be malformed gives them a sick sense of glee. That they see me as merely insane dims the shine of my accomplishments prior to my incarceration. I do not believe that, if I were writing my own life, I would keep those offensive labels from that reputation.”
His voice remained smooth, but I noticed a perturbed note. Yes, I was on thin ice. But if he didn’t want to answer the obvious questions, why sit down for an interview? I asked him and he smiled. There was no warmth to the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and I shivered.
“Your line of questioning is focused on the past. I thought perhaps you’d be interested in the future. All this talk of the past has been hashed and rehashed countless times and is, frankly, boring. Change your focus,” he replied.
“Okay,” I said, taking his bait. “What are your plans for the future? You’re a fugitive right now. The federal government is hunting you, every police force is aware of your escape, and there are even some in law enforcement who feel they have a score to settle with you over the various deaths of police officers over the course of your escape. Do you plan to continue to lay low or do you want to take your…umm…unique way of life somewhere else and live as you did before?”
This time there was amusement in his smile. I’d performed my trick as I was told and my trainer was pleased with me.
“Life is short and although I suspect that I’ve still a great number of years left on this earth, I have no intention to allow my existence to stagnate if I can help it. I cannot get into details with you about my future plans, but I can tell you that I intend to live in a way that pleases me and fulfills my desires. I…”
“Excuse me! Look, I can’t let you monopolize this room if you’re not gonna order any food,” an employee of the bar exploded into the room. He was a tall, balding man who had a red face that wore a scowl of contempt. He looked through me and glared at my interview.
“Listen, pal,” the employee said, pointing to his “MANAGER” badge. “I’ve got a group of Dungeons and Dragons players who want the room and they’re all gonna eat and drink and actually make this fine establishment some money. You gotta go. So get your stuff and get outta here.”
“I’m so sorry,” I began.
“We apologize,” my interview cut me off. “We were nearing the end of our interview anyway. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Yeah, yeah, I said get the hell outta here, ya fruitcake. I’ve got hungry people to feed out there!”
I’d gathered my stuff and was preparing to race to my car and hopefully lose the subject of my interview. The thought of being followed by that doctor terrified me and I questioned why I had agreed to come alone. As I was heading to the door I heard the doctor speaking to the manager.
“It is a unique place you run here and although my time in this place is limited, I may want to return. Do you, by any chance, have a personal card?”
My blood turned cold and I stopped and looked at the two men. The manager rolled his eyes but produced a card case from his shirt pocket and thrust it at the doctor. The doctor received the card, took a long look at the manager, and started walking towards the door.
“Thank you for your time,” he said as he walked past me. I was too stunned to move and instead of trying to beat him to my car, I opted to let him leave first.
I didn’t have much for a story, but I had enough. I had his current location and a vague hint of his future plans. And the name of a possible future victim in the form of a very rude bar manager. It would sell all right, but at what personal cost? He knew where to find me, how to find me and if my story didn’t achieve what he was wanting, perhaps my personal safety was at risk.
I didn’t fancy having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, not even for a story. I did my good citizen-duty and informed the authorities before penning my tale, but who knows if it will do any good to save that poor man who was only doing his job. Who knows if any of it will save any countless number of possible victims. He was loose on the world again and from the sound of it, he intended to treat the world as his personal buffet, with us as the entrees.
Boo-graphy: Somer Canon is the Splatterpunk Award nominated author of works such as Killer Chronicles and The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek. When she’s not wreaking havoc in her minivan, she’s avoiding her neighbors and consuming all things horror. She has two sons and more cats than her husband agreed to have.
You’re Mine — Insecure misfit Ioni Davis never thinks she’ll find love in her sleepy West Virginia hometown. Then the tall, fascinating stranger Raber Belliveau transfers to her school.
Their attraction is instant and red-hot. And a shared fascination with witchcraft bonds the young lovers even closer.
But while Ioni is responsibly studying her newfound religion of Wicca, Raber has chosen an altogether…different path.
Soon, Raber’s behavior becomes manipulative. Even abusive. And their love story for the ages is turning into a macabre farce. All Ioni wants to do is get out.
But Raber has discovered a dreadful way to control their relationship. A ritual which hasn’t been attempted in over a century. A spell to unleash a bloodthirsty terror which can never be satisfied.
Ioni finds herself trapped in a struggle for her life and even her free will against a once-trusted lover who has assured her…
YOU’RE MINE
The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek — A NEW HOME: Dawna Temple let herself be moved from the familiarity of Pittsburgh to the wilds of West Virginia, all so her mentally exhausted husband, John, could heal from a breakdown. Struggling with the abrupt change of location, Dawna finds a friend in her neighbor, Suzanne Miller, known to the locals as The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek.
A NEW FRIEND: Dismissing it as hillbilly superstition, Dawna can’t believe the things she hears about her funny and empathetic friend. Suzanne has secrets—dark secrets—and eventually she reveals the truth behind the rumors that earned her the wicked nickname decades earlier.
OLD WOUNDS: Now in possession of the truth, Dawna has conflicting emotions about Suzanne’s past deeds, but when her husband’s well-being takes a downturn, she finds there is no one else to turn to. Will she shun her friend as others have done before? …or can she accept that an act of evil is sometimes necessary for the greater good?
Slaves to Gravity — with Wesley Southard — After waking up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down, Charlie Snyder had no idea where life would take her. Dejected, broken, and permanently bound to a wheelchair, she believed her life was truly over. That is… until gravity no longer applied.
It started out slow. Floating from room to room. Menial tasks without assistance. When she decided to venture outside and take some real risks with her newfound ability, she rose above her own constraints to reveal a whole new world, and found other damaged individuals just like her to confide in.
But there are other things out there, waiting in the dark. Repulsive, secretive creatures that don’t want Charlie to touch the sky. And they’ll stop at nothing to keep her on the ground.
Meghan: Welcome back, Somer. It’s always a pleasure to have you here during our extended Halloween shenanigans. What is your favorite part of Halloween?
Somer: There’s something about the coziness of the season juxtaposed next to the spooky decorations and scary movies that I just really love. I grew up with a mother and grandmother who LOVED Halloween and I inherited some of that. You snuggle up with those you love, have fun getting scared, eat junk, and hand out candy to kids. What’s not to love?
Meghan: Do you get scared easily?
Somer: I startle easily, but I don’t scare easily.
Meghan: What is the scariest movie you’ve ever seen and why?
Somer: The obvious answer here is a horror movie, but I’ve been watching horror movies my whole life. Like, waaaaaay before I should have been. I’ve seen movies that have gotten to me, disturbed me, and even thrilled me, but honestly, the scariest movie I’ve ever seen was the documentary Food, Inc. THAT’S scary.
Meghan: Which horror movie murder did you find the most disturbing?
Somer: The Korean movie, I Saw the Devil has a death early on that really disturbed me. Not so much the murder itself, although it was awful, but the aftermath of it. It’s a very severe and unrelenting film, but that first murder we see that gets that ball rolling on the rest of the plot is disturbing.
Meghan: Is there a horror movie you refused to watch because the commercials scared you too much?
Somer: Nope.
Meghan: If you got trapped in one scary movie, which would you choose?
Somer: The Mist. Look, you’re not safe in that grocery store, but you can stress eat before the monsters get you.
Meghan: If you were stuck as the protagonist in any horror movie, which would you choose?
Meghan: What is your all-time favorite scary monster or creature of the night?
Somer: Werewolves!
Meghan: What is your favorite Halloween tradition?
Somer: Making a big pot of chili on Trick or Treat night and watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show after the kids go to bed.
Meghan: What is your favorite horror or Halloween-themed song?
Somer: When I was in high school the gift store that I worked at opened a Halloween pop-up. It was so much fun and we played a CD in the store that took famous music that could maybe, possibly be linked to Halloween and my favorite was I’m Your Boogie Man by KC and the Sunshine Band.
Meghan: Which horror novel unsettled you the most?
Meghan: What is the creepiest thing that’s ever happened while you were alone?
Somer: We used to be neighbors with a family that…had problems, I’ll say that. The youngest child, a boy, one night came to my house and said that there was a man in his house who kept trying to get in bed with him and would I please come over and look for the man. I was thirteen at the time and weighed all of ninety pounds but I went over there and looked for a man in this boy’s bed and found nothing. The next day the boy’s mom told me that he was sleepwalking and she thanked me for being so nice and not calling the cops. I was polite and didn’t tell her that I got NO sleep that night because I was terrified that that boy was going to get murdered or kidnapped after I left.
Meghan: Which unsolved mystery fascinates you the most?
Somer: When is Bigfoot going to make her star-making debut?
Meghan: What is the spookiest ghost story that you have ever heard?
Somer: The folk horror tale of Tailypo. I grew up in West Virginia and Tailypo was a story I grew up hearing and it creeps me out to this day. You can find the story on Google. It’s pretty famous in Appalachia.
Meghan: In a zombie apocalypse, what is your weapon of choice?
Somer: Oh that’s optimistic, but I assure you that I’m not surviving the initial wave. By the time we’re at the “survivor” stage of that apocalypse, I’ll be a zombie myself…eating my neighbors.
Meghan: Okay, Summer, let’s have some fun — Would you rather get bitten by a vampire or a werewolf?
Somer: Werewolf! As a woman I’m already on a 28-day cycle.
Meghan: Would you rather fight a zombie apocalypse or an alien invasion?
Somer: Aliens!
Meghan: Would you rather drink zombie juice or eat dead bodies from the graveyard?
Somer: Dead bodies, for sure.
Meghan: Would you rather stay at the Poltergeist house or the Amityville house for a week?
Somer: The Poltergeist House had hot spots, so I think I could find a cozy corner there.
Meghan: Would you rather chew on a bitter melon with chilies or maggot-infested cheese?
Somer: I’m actually curious about Casu martzu, which is a maggot cheese. I mean, I’ll eat both. I’m not picky.
Meghan: Would you rather drink from a witch’s cauldron or lick cotton candy made of spider webs?
Somer: I’ll take my chances with the witch’s cauldron! It might be punch!
Boo-graphy: Somer Canon is the Splatterpunk Award nominated author of works such as Killer Chronicles and The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek. When she’s not wreaking havoc in her minivan, she’s avoiding her neighbors and consuming all things horror. She has two sons and more cats than her husband agreed to have.
You’re Mine — Insecure misfit Ioni Davis never thinks she’ll find love in her sleepy West Virginia hometown. Then the tall, fascinating stranger Raber Belliveau transfers to her school.
Their attraction is instant and red-hot. And a shared fascination with witchcraft bonds the young lovers even closer.
But while Ioni is responsibly studying her newfound religion of Wicca, Raber has chosen an altogether…different path.
Soon, Raber’s behavior becomes manipulative. Even abusive. And their love story for the ages is turning into a macabre farce. All Ioni wants to do is get out.
But Raber has discovered a dreadful way to control their relationship. A ritual which hasn’t been attempted in over a century. A spell to unleash a bloodthirsty terror which can never be satisfied.
Ioni finds herself trapped in a struggle for her life and even her free will against a once-trusted lover who has assured her…
YOU’RE MINE
The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek — A NEW HOME: Dawna Temple let herself be moved from the familiarity of Pittsburgh to the wilds of West Virginia, all so her mentally exhausted husband, John, could heal from a breakdown. Struggling with the abrupt change of location, Dawna finds a friend in her neighbor, Suzanne Miller, known to the locals as The Hag Witch of Tripp Creek.
A NEW FRIEND: Dismissing it as hillbilly superstition, Dawna can’t believe the things she hears about her funny and empathetic friend. Suzanne has secrets—dark secrets—and eventually she reveals the truth behind the rumors that earned her the wicked nickname decades earlier.
OLD WOUNDS: Now in possession of the truth, Dawna has conflicting emotions about Suzanne’s past deeds, but when her husband’s well-being takes a downturn, she finds there is no one else to turn to. Will she shun her friend as others have done before? …or can she accept that an act of evil is sometimes necessary for the greater good?
Slaves to Gravity — with Wesley Southard — After waking up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down, Charlie Snyder had no idea where life would take her. Dejected, broken, and permanently bound to a wheelchair, she believed her life was truly over. That is… until gravity no longer applied.
It started out slow. Floating from room to room. Menial tasks without assistance. When she decided to venture outside and take some real risks with her newfound ability, she rose above her own constraints to reveal a whole new world, and found other damaged individuals just like her to confide in.
But there are other things out there, waiting in the dark. Repulsive, secretive creatures that don’t want Charlie to touch the sky. And they’ll stop at nothing to keep her on the ground.
It’s that time of year again. Summer has come to an end, the days are getting shorter, and the color orange is starting to saturate our world of capitalistic vice and consumption. There’s pumpkin spice, well, everything and the general cozy feeling that comes with the season, and then we have the people who are annoyed with the deliriously evangelical followers of the autumnal cult of joy. Fall is the favorite season of many, and the favorite punching bag of others. Personally, I’m a big fan of the season and the mood it sets. I haven’t even touched on the best day of the season, in my opinion at least: Halloween.
I sit pretty comfortably in the opinion that Halloween is one of the best holidays. I’m not even close to being alone in that belief. In 2019, almost 70% of Americans celebrated Halloween. It dropped a bit in 2020 and looks like the downward trend may continue this year, thanks to the pandemic. But still, more than half of Americans, pandemic or not, are going to be indulging in the spooky, in the morbid, and in the deliciously decadent delights that horror can give. Children and adults alike love Halloween. Horror fans and otherwise love Halloween. The love of Halloween spans various belief systems and religions. How is this so? Why is Halloween such a hit?
I think that it has a lot to do with the fact that it happens at the end of October, just as fall is getting into full swing. Like Christmas, we start celebrating Halloween before the actual day with trips to pop-up stores for new costumes and goodies for our homes, visiting haunted houses and hay rides, and scary movies play on the television every night. Summer is the season that we spend mostly out of our homes, away on vacations and with school being out, mostly on a relaxed or nonexistent schedule. Fall begins with school going back into session, the return to routine and to the end of the vacation season. We’re home, we’re settling in, we’re getting cozy, and we get to do that as the lush beauty of nature prepares to wow us one last time. In the autumnal season, nature proves that she saves the best for last. The sweet smell of dead leaves and their lovely crunch under our feet as we walk, it romances us. Death woos and charms us. Pumpkins start appearing everywhere, flanked by decorative baskets of chrysanthemums. But alongside that magazine-cover pretty picture, there are skeletons, spiders, black cats, corpses, vampires, bats…all of the ambassadors of the decidedly spooky. And they go together wonderfully. I put a seven-foot werewolf on my front porch, but I’ve also got mums and pumpkins. I put out a small cemetery in my side yard with zombies and skeletons climbing out of the graves, but they’re surrounded by beautiful falling leaves from the large tree. The beauty of nature’s death pairs nicely with the human macabre.
Halloween also has the distinguished position of being a holiday that normally doesn’t come with family obligations. Every season comes with a holiday that carries some sort of requirement that can stress us out. Halloween has no such demand. It stands as one of the special days on the calendar that is set aside purely for fun. Obligations are minimal, usually, and having to eat a big dinner next to your judgmental aunt is still at least a month away. Halloween is so much more casual. I know the history of Halloween and I know the pagan-held beliefs of the day, but it has become a day of laughter, fun, sweets, and ridiculousness. It has a few songs, it has a lot of movies, and it has costumes. Halloween is an absolute delight, and I know that I start looking forward to it every August. I sometimes hold out through September before bringing out my spooky and corny decorations, and sometimes I don’t. But, at the very least, the month of October is dedicated to Halloween in my house. My giant porch werewolf and the many other outdoor decorations pale in comparison to what I have inside of my house. A disassembled skeleton hangs from my dining room chandelier, I drink my coffee from Halloween mugs and have my evening tipple in Halloween glasses. For crying out loud, I have Halloween bedding and bathroom hand towels! I love every stitch of it. All of it.
The U.S. is an enormous country with many different regions and not all of them necessarily have four seasons, and yet, they still celebrate Halloween. I live in Eastern Pennsylvania where we certainly experience the full four seasons, but Halloween is pervasive in this country of ours regardless of whether autumn happens or not. Again, why? I’m not an academic and I have no deep philosophical answer for you. What I do have is my observation, and my knowledge of both your average person and the horror community. Halloween is popular because it’s fun. Being scared is fun. Horror carries a stigma of being sick and taboo, and yet I rarely meet a person who doesn’t have a favorite scary movie. People tell me all the time that they don’t like horror, but they love Halloween. Yes, it’s the day for the horror-lovers, but it’s also the day for the “normies” to take a walk on the spooky side and it turns out, they have just as much fun as us horror folk. It’s fun! That’s not a deep answer, but it is an obvious one, and a truthful one.
So, if you’re like more than half of us and celebrating Halloween, enjoy it. Have the fun. Watch the movies, eat the treats, put up the decorations, and do it with people that enjoy it as much as you. Do a Halloween night recitation of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven” and eat some apple dumplings. But could you do this horror author a favor? Pick up a scary book from an author you’ve never read. Give a smaller name a chance. Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree is a terrific book and everything by Stephen King can be appropriate at this time of year. But there are so many horror authors out there who are putting out works that will surprise you with the imaginative takes and amazing storytelling and it’s a shame to only read the biggest names, or only a few names. Try something new, someone new, and allow yourself to be surprised and delighted. After all, ‘tis the season!
I’ll start you off. I’ll throw some authors at you, and you pick what thrills you most.
If you love monster books, authors Hunter Shea and Mary SanGiovanni write some of the best monster-based fiction out there. Wile E. Young is really climbing the ranks here as well.
If you love a good haunted house book or gothic horror, check out Catherine Cavendish.
If you like it spicy and want your horror a little sexy, check out Sephera Giron and Jessica McHugh. But don’t be fooled by the erotic bent of these works, they are every bit as brutal and horrifying as any other horror book, just with an added bonus.
Do you like horror that doesn’t really fit into a category but can be emotional and somehow beautiful? Robert Ford and John Boden belong on your shelves, then.
Grab a short story collection from a new author. As a reader, I find the best authors out there put together amazing short story collections. Most of the authors I mention here have short story collections in their bibliography. Also, try one of Matt Wildasin’s Horrors Untold volumes. They’re wonderful and varied fun.
I’m barely scratching the surface here, and could spend all day pointing you to terrific authors, but if you start here, and do a little digging of your own, I guarantee you’ll find your new favorite author. Happy Halloween!
Somer Canon lives in Eastern PA with her husband, two sons, and three cats. She loves to read and write and although she is polyamorous when it comes to genres, horror always seems to be her favorite.
Boneyard — Halloween is a night of spooky fun…at least it is for the living. What about the dead? What kind of fun do they have? Read and find out how the no-longer-living entertain themselves at the expense of very much alive and disrespectful people!
A Fresh Start — Still hurting from her divorce, Melissa Caan makes a drastic life change for herself and her two young children by moving them out to a rural home.But the country life came with some extras that she wasn’t counting on. Doors are slamming, she and her children are violently attacked by unseen hands, and her elderly neighbor doesn’t like to talk about the murders that happened in the strangely named hollow all those years ago.Ghost hunters, witches, and a sassy cancer survivor come together to help Melissa fight for the safety of her children and herself.All she wanted was a fresh start, will she get it?
Slaves to Gravity (with Wesley Southard) — After waking up in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down, Charlie Snyder had no idea where life would take her. Dejected, broken, and permanently bound to a wheelchair, she believed her life was truly over. That is…until gravity no longer applied.It started out slow. Floating from room to room. Menial tasks without assistance. When she decided to venture outside and take some real risks with her newfound ability, she rose above her own constraints to reveal a whole new world, and found other damaged individuals just like her to confide in.But there are other things out there, waiting in the dark. Repulsive, secretive creatures that don’t want Charlie to touch the sky. And they’ll stop at nothing to keep her on the ground.
Meghan's House of Books 