The horror story no doubt began before history, with sinister tales of dragons and malevolent gods around the prehistoric camp fire. But horror as noted by history is much more recent. True, Sophocles and others offered stark, horrific visions in ancient Greece, and Beowulf from 10th century Europe has echoes of the horrific, but we had to wait for Shakespeare and his contemporaries to be specifically horrific for the sake of the story.
In plays such as Macbeth the modern idea of terrifying the public came of age. Yet horror was to become more subtle. Born out of the Gothic visions of the Romantics, horror became a merging of the psychological with the environment, or, in the ghost story, the supernatural.
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is often thought of as the first horror novel, but really this is more science fiction than horror. Horror itself developed in the short story, particularly Poe in the 1840s. Of particular note in the genre is Stevenson's Jekyll and Hyde and Stoker's Dracula.
The Victorians actually created both the horror and ghost story in its modern sense. Prior to this period, if a ghost appeared in a tale, it was most likely to be prophetic rather than disturbing. It was Dickens who changed this, with his fine ghost stories, many based around Christmas.
The central theme of the return of the dead to confront the living was an inevitability once Spiritualism had gained popular notice. And from here on, the ghost and horror story was to march side by side, often written by the same writers.
One of the greatest of those writers was M R James, who perfected the growing sinister element of the normal, vital to the success of the genre. Other notables included Le Fanu, Bierce, Machen, Lovecraft, Blackwood and Benson.
All these writers wrote principally in the short story or novella form. It wasn't until the mid-1970s that this changed, with the novel becoming the primary medium. Of this new wave of horror, Ramsey Campbell is often thought of as its greatest literary exponent. However, horror broke into the bestseller lists with the mighty Stephen King. And from then until now, the public have just loved to be frightened to death by this story form.
(c) Anthony North, Jan 2007
Writing a Horror Story
Before beginning instruction on writing a horror story, a warning. The tales that follow may contain disturbing scenes. If you are not sure about them, don't read them.
That said, I have included ghost fiction here as the two are closely related. Indeed, the purpose and methodology of the form is almost identical.
The most important lesson to learn in the genre can be disclosed straight away. That is that the best form of horror story is one that deals with the familiar and ordinary, and then makes it extraordinary. If you can succeed in doing this, you are well on the way to success.
Lesson One
BED MATE
Anthony North
Is the world we see about us real or illusion? Is the world a hard, material fact, or does reality bend to how we want the world to be? Philosophers and theologians have grappled with this question since history began and never have they provided a satisfactory answer. But in our day to day lives we need not worry about such things. Or should we?
When James Berford came to see me I can only describe him as terrified. 'I need help,' he said as he sat in front of the desk.
I was immediately on edge as he said this, as his voice had that shaky hysteria of unpredictability. 'Perhaps you'd better tell me the problem,' I said.
'It's that clown. It's evil, pure evil. I know it is. And I'm sure it's going to kill my son.'
I offered as serene a smile as possible, although I must admit my anxiety was rising by the second. 'The clown?' I asked.
'That damned toy. It's demonic. It is, I'm telling you!'
It took me a long time to settle him down; to get from him the facts in as calm and logical a way as possible. And the facts seemed to be these: Four months ago baby Paul had been born to James and Jenny Berford. And for the first week or so everything had gone exactly as had been expected. But then, as they were passing a toy shop, Jenny Berford had had an impulse to rush into the shop and buy a toy clown as bed mate for her baby.
'And ever since then,' James continued, 'she's changed. She's no longer happy, but goes around in a daze. And the only time she seems right is when she's holding that clown. It's as if she's got a relationship with it. And both me and Paul are ignored.'
When horror first formulated into the short story, the hero was invariably a middleclass professional, who narrated the story in the form of an investigation. Here, I have tried to recreate this element.
It is vital to get to the crux of the tale as soon as possible and capture the reader. In this tale, I have used two devices to try to ensure this. A baby and a toy. Both are normal, and belong to the every day world, but mention of evil is enough to place a sinister element upon each.
The explanation seemed obvious enough to me, but I decided it would be best to see what was going on for myself. Hence, under the pretence of being a friend and business associate I was invited to the house. And whilst I had decided that it was a simple case of post-natal depression with all emotions transferred to an inanimate object, the second I stepped into the house, a deep chill seemed to descend upon me.
This sense of unease infected everything in the Berford household, with even James losing his sense of the terrified and instead becoming almost comatose. Jenny, herself, was clearly depressed. But I also sensed in James that everything was not quite right. Could I have been wrong in my initial hypothesis? Was it a simple case of post-natal depression, or could James, himself, be exhibiting a form of paranoia, perhaps based on the jealousy of his son, his wife no longer giving him the attention he felt he deserved?
I knew from that moment on that it would be a difficult case; but a case I had to get to the bottom of quickly, for it was clear that baby Paul's life could well be in danger.
The best horror belongs to two worlds. Whilst there is the hint of evil or supernatural, it could also be down to morbid psychology. This increases tension by keeping the reader guessing.
Placing a rational explanation offers a moment of respite, which gives the reader a false sense of security. Hence, you can so easily take them up to another level of fear when the climax approaches.
The rational explanation laid down - post natal depression - you can then build on the atmosphere of the situation by posing rthe possibility that we do not know who is the irrational one, and thus posing the danger.
This leaves the reader confused, a vital element to this story form.
Conversation during my visit was strained, even melancholy, and the oppressive nature of the house would simply not go away. And when, after asking to see their son, I went upstairs, I can only report that the eerieness of the place intensified.
Baby Paul slept peacefully in his cot, but even this most beautiful sight could not lift the mood, for beside him laid the clown, and I knew how easy it was to be delusive about such things.
The clown was a simple stuffed toy, about two feet long with yellow trousers, red and white stripped shirt, a huge bow-tie and blue jacket. But there was something about the clown's face that stirred in me my appreciation of evil.
I knew it was inanimate, but somehow the hint of animation was upon that face, as if it somehow knew what was going on; perhaps even playing a part.
We have now entered the nest of evil. Yet it is just a baby's room. The baby sleeps peacefully, but the reader should not be able to rest. An expectancy of something about to happen is upon him.
The clow - a simple baby's toy. But we have animated it - or at least, given the impression of future animation. This is one of the most effective horror devices. If you can threaten to animate the inanimate, you're onto a success.
As I left the house I tried to dismiss this feeling of unease as a by-product of the psychological mess the family was suffering. It was hard enough figuring out whether the problem laid in James or Jenny, without having to add a further, demonic angle to the case. Finally managing to put these fears to the back of my mind, I knew, of course, what I had to do.
The lot of a psychotherapist is a heavy one. Anyone can set up as a psychotherapist, for it requires little in the way of training, and absolutely no qualifications. I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist, who
are professionally trained. Rather, I am simply a man with an interest in the mind and the nature of evil. Hence, with a baby's life in possible danger, I knew I was out of my league. Drugs and professional help were what James and Jenny Berford required, and I resolved to phone social services the very next morning and hand the case to them.
But if only I had done it straight away, it may not have ended as it did.
The phone rang at two o'clock that morning. Sleepily, I picked it up to be confronted by James Berford's manic voice. 'You've got to come quickly. It's Paul. He's dead!'
A useful device in the horror story is to bring tension up to a point, then relax it. Hence, we are diverted to our hero's rational thoughts on what to do. Then, just as you think you can relax, hit the reader with a statement so apocalyptic that you demand attention.
I rushed to the Berford household as quickly as I could. As I entered the house, the same eerie feeling gripped me, as if as soon as you passed the threshold, an altered reality came into being.
James Berford was sat, stiffly, on the settee, shock having gripped him and unable to communicate. Jenny was not to be seen, so I rushed upstairs and into Baby Paul's room. He laid there peacefully in death, yet the horror of seeing the slight bruising on his neck was too much for me. With a heavy heart, I picked up my mobile, resolved to phone the police. Yet as I went out into the hall, the sound of quiet, but happy whisperings came to my ears.
Is the world we see about us real or illusion? I pushed open the door to the master bedroom, the hall light lancing through the dark to highlight the back of Jenny Berford sat on her bed, talking sweetly to the clown she held in her arms. And I swear to you, the clown's arm was stroking her back.
The story ends with the impossible. But then again, was the clown animated, or was our hero now descending to delusion? If not, did the mother kill the baby, or the clown?
The questions are left open. In this way, the reader continues to contemplate the story after reading it. He will remember you, and visit your dark imaginings again.
Even more, if you have succeeded, our reader may recall the scene next time he enters a child's bedroom, or sees a soft, cuddly little clown.
In Lesson Two, we will move on to another useful horror device - the man who dabbles in things he doesn't understand, turning his life upside down as he enters the pit of hell; or maybe just the insanity in his own mind.