I love Halloween. I love Gothic art, candy corn, ravens, graveyards, candlelight, dramatic moons, and the general suggestion that a Victorian ghost might be judging my decorating choices. I like dark. I like spooky. I like a little theatrical drama.
What I do not particularly like are slasher movies. Just the commercials freak me out, I love vampire films, but not the blood and gore- stay out-of the house stuff. I do not like watching a masked man pursue teenagers for ninety-seven minutes while every adult in town makes the worst possible decision.
Unfortunately, October television does not recognize this distinction.
The minute the calendar flips, horror movies come crawling out of the woodwork. Every streaming service unveils a category with a name like FEARFEST, SCREAMTOBER, or WE HAVE ACQUIRED THE RIGHTS TO SIXTEEN MOVIES ABOUT POSSESSED DOLLS. Cable channels run marathons. Commercials become tiny horror films. Even an ad for laundry detergent can begin with a dark hallway, a flickering bulb, and a child whispering to someone who is definitely not there.
This means channel surfing in October requires the reflexes of a bomb technician. You are looking for a baking show. Suddenly: basement. You click away. Now: cornfield at night. Click. Creepy music box. Click. Woman opening a door after the audience has repeatedly told her not to open the door. Click. Finally, a pleasant documentary about architecture—until the narrator says, “But the house had a secret.” Absolutely not. I have seen enough. The secret may remain with the house.
I already have enough fear thank you
My oldest daughter loves horror. All of it. The films, the monsters, the jump scares, The Nightmare Before Christmas—if it is macabre, she is ready with popcorn. I admire her commitment. I also decline to participate.
I tell her the truth: I have enough fear in my life. I do not need to rent more for $5.99.
Life already provides a full schedule of dread. Did I send that email to the wrong person? What is that noise the car is making? Why did the doctor’s office call instead of sending a portal message? Where is my phone, and why am I using its flashlight to look for it? I do not require a supernatural entity to raise my heart rate. I have passwords and health insurance.
But I understand why horror belongs to October. Halloween lets us put a frame around fear. We light a candle, tell the monster when it may arrive, and give it a closing date. Fear becomes a costume instead of a condition. Some people meet it head-on through horror movies. Some of us prefer a sarcastic zombie on a mug while watching people renovate a kitchen.
Team spooky not terrified
There is a large and underserved population between “pumpkin spice only” and “please show me a close-up of the demon.” We are the spooky-but-not-splattered. We want skeletons with hobbies. We want ravens, ghosts reading books, and zombies whose main purpose is making a joke about surviving another week.
That is why I have a soft spot for the The Horrors Persist But So Do I zombie tee. It is technically horror, but emotionally it is resilience wearing excellent makeup.
For anyone preparing for October with practical optimism, there is also the Zombie Apocalypse Go Bag tote. It holds books, snacks, and whatever one needs when the television schedule becomes wall-to-wall screaming.
And if you were promised a dramatic apocalypse but mostly received meetings and grocery shopping, the I Was Promised Zombies sweatshirt understands.
So yes, I will happily spend October surrounded by black cats, Gothic designs, haunted-looking candles, and several tasteful skeletons. I will celebrate the season enthusiastically. I will simply do it without watching anything that begins with a family moving into a suspiciously affordable farmhouse.
If you need me, I will be under a blanket watching science fiction, with the remote already pointed at the television in case the commercials get ideas.