Horror is a genre of the senses. We see blood. We hear screams. We feel the cold breath on the back of our necks. But one sense rarely gets its due: taste . And yet, when horror does reach for it, the results are some of the most unforgettable, stomach-churning experiences in film and fiction. The horror of taste taps into the primal disgust at what enters our mouths and bodies, what we consume, and what consumes us. Whether it’s cannibalism, decadence, or body horror served on fine china,...

With the release of my sea-faring horror tale, The Witch of November (out now), I thought I'd explore some maritime horror. The ocean is older than fear itself. It predates civilization, myth, and even memory. It is vast, alien, and merciless, an endless expanse of shifting darkness that hides things we were never meant to see. For horror storytellers, the sea has always been more than a setting; it’s a sentient force, a graveyard, and sometimes, a god. From ghost ships and sea monsters to...

A city without people feels wrong. The architecture still stands. The traffic lights still change. The wind still moves through the streets. But when the crowds vanish and the hum of life goes silent, something inside us recoils. Empty cities, deserted malls, and forgotten highways don’t just evoke sadness, they radiate horror. In fiction and film, abandoned city horror  has become a subgenre of its own. From Silent Hill  to The Last of Us , from 28 Days Later  to urban exploration videos of...