Scary.

The dark.Snakes.
Ghosts.
Failure. 
Death.

What scares you? 

Fear is an interesting thing. Perhaps the oldest of human emotions, should those be put on a scale. Nothing has the power of forcing compliance like fear. Both a tool and a weapon, this feeling of stiff hairs, gooseflesh, and icy sweat is something that is supposed to keep us safe. We're alerted in such a way when we perceive danger, and thanks to the little amygdala in our brains, we're able to run, or fight. We see a snake in the grass and feel fear, enabling us to flee -- or kill it. We hear a noise outside and grab the phone, ready to call the police. Or, we may draw a weapon, and fight for our lives ourselves. But all of these reactions are united by one feeling.

Considering this context, it's interesting that we've created a whole genre of fiction that revolves around scaring us.

There are many different sub-genres of horror. The classic monster movie, like Godzilla; the torture-filled gore fest that is Saw, and the psychological mind-screw of Psycho, just to name a few. They can be sociopolitical, like The Purge -- or isolated, like The Blair Witch Project. And much like the fight or flight response, they're united under the kingdom of fear as things that are meant to scare us. But why? Why do we like things that bring out such an intense, and negative feeling? 

Not all of us do. I, however, do like the idea of horror -- the concept of creating a story that's meant to disturb or unsettle someone, I think, is actually sort of powerful. It's like saying, "I know how you work, and I know how to draw forth your emotions." I don't mean to discount an entire genre when I say this, but despite the novelty of the idea, a lot of modern horror is just drivel. I believe this has to do with investment, consequences, and scope -- because to me, horror is well presented in the context of implications. What I mean by this, is that I think true horror has to be structured and meaningful. 

Let me give you a little bit of insight. 

This is may sound like I'm bragging of sorts, and I don't mean it to, but it's important that I demonstrate my point, even if using specific examples will seriously out me as a sensitive child and generate some kind of plot to harass me. (That's fine, honestly. I'm 20 years old, as of the time of writing this, and no longer feel the things I felt some sixteen years ago). 

When I was very young, probably around four or five, I had a LEGO Minifigure of a vampire. Here he is. 

This dashing gentleman comes in a Studios LEGO set -- a theme that was meant to represent the production of films. His, of course, was Dracula. I've been a LEGO fan all my life, and still collect to this day -- but the important thing about me talking about this little dude is that he used to terrify me. Make fun of little five year old me all you want, but there was something upsetting about him, and I remember exactly what it was. 

The blood. 

If you turn around his head, he has a face smiling with vicious joy, baring bloodied fangs. He also has a bloody handkerchief hanging out of his coat pocket, right on his torso print. I was an insanely sensitive child for years, and the smallest of things would scare me. This is one of them. You see, the blood on this character implied things that I was able to somewhat understand. He'd had to have killed someone to get that blood on his face, because vampires drink blood. That meant that he was an evil person, someone willing to hurt someone else. 

This rhetoric applied to all vampires. Around the same time as this, during Halloween, my mother brought home a red Devil, a green Frankenstein, and a purple Vampire masks for all of us to wear. The Devil and Frankenstein didn't really bother me at all, but the vampire had such sharp fangs; fangs for biting, and tearing. I wanted her to put it away, so she did. Then, a few weeks later, I was looking through the drawers for who knows what, and found the mask near a pile of cards and paper. I was so startled that legitimately ran out of the room and hid behind the couch.

I did get over this, but in second grade I checked out a book called Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Oh yeah, you definitely know what book I'm talking about. I was not the first child to be scared by this book, nor will I be the last. And it wasn't so much the stories; those alone are a bit dark, but not quite that scary. It was certainly the pictures. 

I don't feel the need to post them here, as you've all seen them and, to be honest, they're still a little uncomfortable to look at to this day. The art is definitely beautiful, and it is so wonderfully capable of creating unease -- that the day I read The White Wolf, a story about a wolf that kills a farmer and his sheep, I couldn't go to sleep for weeks. 

This time, it really was about the story, and how the art added to it. You see, the illustration of the wolf is just... I looked it up again to remember it, and audibly "eughh'd." It's uncanny. If you so wish to see it for yourself, just look up "white wolf scary story." I don't even feel like providing a link. 

In the story, a farmer's sheep keeps going missing after every night. I forget the details, but one night he decides to stay outside and catch the wolf he believes is doing it. In he morning, however, he's found dead, with his throat torn open. 

The implications -- that a wolf as vicious and ugly as what was shown in the picture -- tore open the throat of a man, was just awful. I dreamt of it for so long that I'll never forget how it made me feel, sitting against the wall of the classroom during free reading time, and imagining the horror the monster inflicted upon his final victim. 

I don't need to keep going with examples to persuade you any longer. You get my point; it wasn't just the imagery, it was about the implications. But now, that isn't enough. For whatever reason, modern horror is awful at exercising this idea. You can't give me a character for a movie and then kill them. I just don't care, because the implications aren't effective enough to alter my perception in any meaningful way.

Unless the horror is with those we care for.

Long term stories, with stakes, and established settings and characters, do well with darker elements. This is because it creates depth of tone, as I call it. When we're with a cast and a narrative for long enough to make us care, introducing the power of horror really has the ability to make us uncomfortable, as well as strengthen the tone of the story. And almost every time, these narratives I'm talking about aren't even horror at all. One of the greatest examples of this I can think of is a chapter in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince where Harry and Dumbledore visit a seaside cave where Voldemort has, supposedly, hidden one of his Horcruxes. 

It's enclosed and flooded, with no sources of light and no ways in or out unless one pays a toll with their own blood. This sets an expectation by introducing uncertainty. Soon after Harry and Dumbledore make their way to the rock formation in the middle of the water, Dumbledore must drink the potion in the basin, and be forced to relive his most painful memories and endure a horrible, physical torment. Now, we have a dark setting and a dire consequence. Our mentor character, who has been a large part of comfort withing the story, is writhing in agony and sobbing. Harry, our eyes within the narrative, has to cope with being in such a place and witnessing the horror firsthand. As Dumbledore begs for something else to drink, begs for his palate to be cleansed, Harry moves toward the water...

...where instantly, he's grabbed. By one of these.

Suddenly, these... things start emerging from the water. Soon Harry realizes that they're not just things, but people. 

Dead people. 

While not quite zombies, we learn later that the creatures that dwell in such large numbers within the watery depths of Voldemort's Horcrux cave are called Inferi, which is to say, corpses bewitched by a dark wizard to do his bidding. These people are implied to be an assortment of individuals, from men and women that turned on the Dark Lord, to random muggles, likely tortured, murdered, and placed within the cave to wait silently in stagnant, freezing water until someone else comes by and tries to take the treasure within. 

Now we have our third piece of the "Depth of Tone" cake. A dark setting, a dire consequence, and a disturbing implication. The darkness and isolation of the cave, the torment of the basin's poison, and the implications of innocent people murdered and made into puppets to kill others create worthwhile horror; but it only works because we care about the well-beings of Harry and Dumbledore. We're with a set of characters for long enough for their world and their lives to have quite a bit of scope, which gives us something to care about. When horror is implemented, and implemented correctly, we can be truly terrified.

That's also why I like Stephen King. His stories are about the horror, but they're about the people, too. Pet Sematary and It are perfect examples of this. You're given a threat, but you're also given complex, multifaceted characters that represent more than just archetypes to get killed off by a man in a mask or a big white wolf. It helps that his books usually run large too, because even padding can give us more to like about a character and their story. 

Not all horror has to be sandwiched into an existing story, but my point is that it's more effective when we're invested in some way, which is the main shortcoming of modern horror. Not all of the audience is children, who can be scared by toys and masks. Much of us need more.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Happy Halloween.