Horror in My World

I write horror, though today people seem to have a different opinion of just what horror is. It creating a character that the reader or viewer can relate to then putting them through some kind of horrific event, that’s where the name horror comes from, at least that’s how I see it. It’s not dumping buckets of blood on some naked girls, yes that gets viewers and readers but, that doesn’t make it horror. You don’t need death or blood or some kind of supernatural event for example: A girl stands up to accept an award for school and goes up on stage. When she takes a bow , she farts and the microphone picks it up. Then the sound echoes throughout the hall. What she feels and what readers and viewers pick up on is the terror coursing throughout her. That is horror. Today most people try to make the bloodiest, goriest thing they can, throw in some nudity and slap a horror label on it. Then they wonder why, if they have so many viewers they have a crappy rating. That’s because after the viewer gets their cheap thrills, they don’t care about the story and can’t relate the the characters. To me that’s not horror. Don’t get me wrong, I know some great erotic horror writers out there and a lot of them are right here on WordPress but I’m not talking about them. They create great characters that are the main focus of the story and they are put through some hell. You can’t help but to follow their torment, that’s Horror! I do use supernatural events and blood and some gore in my stories but the main focus is on the characters and what happens to them. I try getting the reader to feel the terror that the characters are experiencing, I want them to follow the story line and not get caught up with, “Are there boobs and blood?” I going to put an end to this rant because I need to get back to my books. I just hope this give some insight to the true nature of Horror that we all love.

The entire first chapter of Life Once Was

Here it is, the entire first chapter of my novel.

Dreams can be quite strange , they can be good, bad or both. They can be your most amazing fantasy or be your worst nightmare, reflect what happened during your day or bring out your worst fears from the past. The strangest things about dreams is that they can be deceptive by giving you a truthful glimpse of what is to come. Dreams are strange indeed.
As David walked down the street with his thick leather boots and olive drab jacket, he had no emotion of any kind on his face. He just moved with a purpose. All was dark and quiet except for the little bit of liquid sloshing around in the gas can he had with him. The moon was dim but gave off just enough light for him to see his surroundings. There were no people around that he could see, the streets were empty, lifeless and silence was cold. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there though the neighborhood felt eerily familiar. Still, he didn’t let it bother him, he just kept on walking with the wind seemingly following him. The houses around him were abandoned and falling apart but not enough to conceal their former charm and composition. He could still tell that this was once a beautiful neighborhood that was full of life. The once white picket fences were now in disrepair, charred and broken, plants that had been vibrant were shriveled and dried up and dead, lawns once neatly manicured were spotted with overgrown weeds with trash and debris blowing around them.
When he came to the middle of the block he stopped and thew the near empty gas can at a house. Reaching into his pockets he pulled out a lighter and some crudely fashioned sticks wrapped in and oil soaked rags. David spoke under his breath, “It’s time to start anew.” Then without thought and still emotionless, he lit the rags on fire then threw them at the nearest house. Almost instantly the house took to the flame and spread up and down the street jumping from house to house following the trail of gasoline he had laid out.
David kept walking down the empty street, houses now ablaze, like nothing was wrong. Just watching the houses burn as if the neighborhood was still in it’s prime and covered in Christmas lights. This brought David comfort and somehow made him feel safer. He gave himself false memories of children that once played there, laughing and chasing each other up and down the street. Of people pulling into their driveway and waving at their neighbors. He thought of an old woman that took pride and loved working in her flower garden. He just wanted to picture that neighborhood they way it might have been. Continuing on, the fire from the burning houses lit up the sky with it’s orange glow, lighting his way through the night. Then something in one of the houses caught his attention, pulling him out of his daydream. He noticed some kind of movement coming from behind the flames. When he got a better look, his eyes widened as he saw the burning silhouettes running around erratically inside the inferno. David began to panic. He started waving his arms and running toward the burning figures trying to get their attention. He began shouting, screaming, calling for anyone who could hear him but something was different, something wasn’t right. As he shouted his voice was not there, instead only silence was emitted. His mouth was open but the only sounds were that of wood crackling in the fires.