Sure, it helps if the atmosphere is spooky, like a mist-covered moor or a creaky old house.
And yes, a likable hero is standard, maybe a spunky teenage babysitter?
But the villain, thats the tricky part.
Photo byNguyen Le Viet AnhonUnsplash
Because the villain must actually be terrifying.
Powerful, sinister, dangerous, and ultimately, unknowable.
The villain can be human, like your run-of-the-mill serial killer.
It can be an animal, say, a shark or a flock of birds.
I have thought a lot about this because I have been living in a horror story my whole life.
IwishI were being stalked by a deranged psychopath.
Thats something I could kill, once and for all.
But no, my villain is much more subtle, much more clever.
In fact, my villain lives inside of me.
My villain is my eczema.
Let me be clear: it isnt hyperbole to say that my eczema has tried to kill me.
To the uninitiated, eczema is just a little dry skin.
And that is correct, to an extent.
It creates dry, cracked skin, usually on my feet, hands, arms, and back.
But what those cracks in my skin do is make me vulnerable to bacterial infections.
This would aggravate my eczema and cause major cracks in my heels.
I tried every cream known to man.
On a day off, I decided to hit the gym before going out with some friends.
I planned on showering at the gym, but forgot to bring shower sandals.
No problem, I thought, Im sure the showers are clean.
The next morning I woke up with what I thought was a nasty bruised ankle.
My foot was completely black and my ankle had ballooned to the size of a softball.
Did I roll it while dancing the night before?
I couldnt put any weight on it.
I took a cab to the ER and told the doctor that I had broken my ankle.
They ran X-Rays, which came back negative.
The doctor realized what was wrong and immediately started pumping me with a high dose of antibiotics.
Before tending to other patients, he took out a sharpie and drew a line around my upper calf.
He said, Keep an eye on this.
If the black gets to here, well have to amputate.
The second time my eczema tried to kill me was in a hot spring.
Hell, Id tried pretty much everything else.
So I jumped in.
Three days later, I couldnt walk.
I couldnt get out of bed.
Sneezing felt like getting punched in the spine by a fist made of shrapnel.
I got a 6 week course of intravenous antibiotics.
I escaped with my life.
Then the keys fall to the ground!
Whats wrong with them?
Why have they suddenly lost all motor skills?
(Why would I jump into a bacteria-filled hot spring?)
Finally, the hero gets the right key and jams it into the ignition.
They speed off into the distance crying, covered in the blood of their friends.
They look into the rear view mirror the killer is gone.
I know that every good horror story gets a sequel.
