Horror invites you to fully embody and express your grief. It does not attempt to distract, or pacify, or soften the blow of sorrow.

Horror instead offers you a bat and an old teapot and says: “Go on, break it. Scream while you do it. It isn’t healthy for you to hold that all in.”

That deeply intimate invitation to bring your darkness to the surface of your soul and gaze upon it - unflinchingly and with grace - is invaluable for a true integration of our own shadow.

In many ways, horror is more “real” to me than “realism” for that reason. There is safety in metaphor: comfort in the monster.