Archive for the ‘horror’ Category

Last weekend, I took myself on a little miniature tour through Tennessee. As with all things in my life, it was a whirlwind.

Initially, this entire trip was planned around attending the Behind the Mask Author Event. I had never previously done a mass book signing event, so when the organizer invited me, I figured, why not? I might as well try it out, investigate and experiment for myself. I selected this particular event because it was located in Nashville, so I could pair it with a visit to Chattanooga.

I lived in Chattanooga for about five years. It has now been five years since I returned home to Colorado. We moved for my husband’s job. I briefly deployed to Iraq with my job then returned to working from our new home, knowing no one. Eventually, by several clever turns of fate, I found the morbid cabaret belly dance troupe (yes, such a thing does miraculously exist) the Corpsewax Dollies. These girls became my community, and dancing with them became my passion.

I leaped at the chance to pair an author event with a more nostalgic visit. Plus, having that time with the Dollies served as a safety net. Even if the signing was a complete, depressing bust, the trip would not have been for nothing. The Dollies then sweetened the deal by planning a show for me to perform in with them and allowed me to dance as my own serial killer Emma (from The Rest Will Come).

Undoubtedly, I have missed the Dollies themselves the most. The sisterhood, the community, their devilishly individual personalities. Yet the lack of the stage and performing in my life has also left a vacancy. A vacancy I never really confronted since I have not performed with them in five years (since my farewell show) and have only done haflas with the teachers I have taken up with back in Colorado. My performance life was never grand or exceptionally successful, but there is simply something different about dancing on a stage versus dancing in a classroom.

Between the book signing in Nashville and performing in Chattanooga, the trip became something of a mini author/dancer tour.

I flew into Nashville on Thursday night. The travel in itself was quite the adventure. I ended up stuck in traffic mere miles from the Denver airport when a truck ahead of us overturned. Then I spent almost two hours on the tarmac waiting for the plane to be deiced. Once we actually flew and landed, the Nashville baggage throwers jammed the carousel with our bags. A semi trailer blazed in full flames on my drive down to Chattanooga in the fog. A surreal comedy of minor errors.

But I did make it.

Even from the first steps off the plane, things felt very strange on this trip. When we lived in Tennessee and traveled, my husband used to say that the minute we hit Tennessee airspace, my disposition changed (read: I became a bitch). In this same way, when I exited the airport, it felt almost as if I had never left, as if I hadn’t left a life in Colorado to return. I have returned to Tennessee before this, and it has felt like picking up where I left off, but nothing like this amnesic feel. However, I dismissed it and carried on.

On my first day back in the Dirty South, I met my first and former running mate (the Dolly I was staying with) on the Riverwalk for a run. After I had my daughter, she had been the unfortunate victim who took up running with me. We spent countless mornings and an untold sum of hours jogging up and down that riverwalk. In the dark. In the rain. In the heat. Like dance with the Dollies, the activity became foundational. Running remains so for me now.

After the run, I met with Ricky Davis of TRD Photography to get new author headshots. After all, I have not been orange for some time now, so my current ones seem a bit like a lie. I figured might as well get them refreshed with a photographer I knew from back when I utterly sucked at “modeling.”

That night, dress rehearsal. Back in the studio with the Dollies preparing for the show, just like old times. The experience was strangely gut-wrenching. Simultaneously, I felt the vivid joy at being back and the searing pain at knowing it was fleeting. I felt welcomed and included yet inevitably on the outside. The contrast, the duality was visceral. I couldn’t stop smiling, and I also wanted to cry. I simply savored every moment of it.

Saturday was the epicenter of the trip, the author event itself. One Dolly and I got up painfully early and drove back to Nashville. Navigating the venue and parking and unpacking and locating the event was laughable clusterfuck, but, again, we made it. She was instrumental in getting me where I needed to be, especially when I kept sending her back to the car for everything I forgot.

When we walked in to the ballroom and looked over the other tables, I knew I did not belong at this event. Most tables boasted huge standing signs advertising the author’s name. From the macro pictures of chiseled male abdomens and pink calligraphy of the font on these signs, from the chapstick lined up and chocolate strewn over the tables, I knew I had stepped out of my genre. Somehow, I had ended up at a romance author book signing.

One might argue that The Rest Will Come is a dark romantic comedy. One could say that sexual tension is at the root of Savages. One might even try to argue that The Waning offers an extremely twisted love story. I would say that a romance reader would not agree on any of these points. I knew I was incongruent; I just did not know if it would be a good thing to stand out or not. I did not know what to expect from any of it.

In the morning, the readers steadily trickled through. I sold a book here or there. Many potential customers wrinkled their noses and walked faster once they realized that horror graced my table. I did have some delightful conversations regardless.

The crowd dwindled around lunch time, and instead, restless authors began roaming the booths. These romance authors seemed quite excited about what I offered in The Rest Will Come. I ended up selling more books to other attending authors or their support crews than any person who bought a ticket.

The afternoon monotony was salvaged by the arrival of more Dollies. They arrived to buy a good chunk of my books and keep me company. By this point, authors had abandoned all professionalism, walking between booths to talk other events, drinking bottles of wine or eating at their tables. I elected not to wander but still connected to a few kindred spirits and was annoyed by others.

The book signing event finally rounded to a anticlimactic close; however, it went better than I anticipated. Not as well as I could have hoped or dreamed, but I ended up selling about half of my books, enough to not have to ship them home. I had feared I would not sell a single book, so I considered this result a win.

The Dollies and I retired to our hotel room to drink and prepare for the masquerade ball that was a part of the author event.

The masquerade ball was terrible. We arrived an hour late to find less than ten people sitting idle at tables in the dark, barely even speaking. The provided food was minuscule, and the drinks were grievously overpriced. We ate the miniature food and had a weak drink. We watched the DJ fail at enlivening the crowd. By the time we bailed, there were maybe 20-30 people there, but the entire thing felt like a flat wedding reception. Free booze and sleep at the hotel was much more appealing.

Sunday, back to Chattanooga! Admittedly, my brain was a bit raw from the event. After so much unknown and anticipation to see if it would break my author heart, I felt overstimulated, maybe emotionally hungover. Then, I also spent some time driving around the city by myself, which allowed strange feelings to swell over me. The nostalgia became paralytic at times. In the quiet, I was confronted by shapeless emotions I had not anticipated. I did not know how I felt, only that I felt. A lot.

Yet there was no time for all that. Sunday night was the show.

This serial killer show was held at the same venue where I participated in the majority of performances during my time. Despite the name change and some fresh paint, it remained largely unchanged. Once again, this was somehow both comforting and upsetting, forcing my mind to awkwardly straddle the past and the present.

After crawling into someone’s head to craft the character of Emma, it was ridiculously fun to pick a dark anthem for her then fetish her up into a costume. I ended up looking like some gothic lumberjack with a bloody shovel, but I don’t think I would have cast her any other way as a Dolly. With my bloody shovel, I danced to a solo I choreographed myself. More nerve-wracking than dancing to someone else’s!

It was a blast. All of it. I managed to not completely mangle the dances I was in, even those learned over a tiny screen and Google Hangouts. Even if I did mess up, I didn’t care. I just laughed and kept dancing, kept watching, kept cheering.

Afterwards, the Dollies put on a fire show in the parking lot. I definitely wish I had been around when they started playing with fire. It was amazing to watch.

Then it was tearful goodbyes in the parking lot and a midnight run to Waffle House.

On Monday, it was over. All the Dollies were at work and back at their lives as I packed myself up and headed back to the Nashville airport. From the moment I woke up (after not much sleep), my head was an absolute disaster. Though I had imbibed the night before, I do not think I was hungover. I managed to rouse with zero physical symptoms, and I did not feel drunk at the time. However, my memories for the previous night were scattered and fractured. I would say definitely drunk except this effected lasted until I napped on the plane.

This oddity was unnerving in itself, but it was also coupled with the most crippling depression I have felt in months. The emotional surge went so far as to affect me physically. I felt like I could not breathe, like I should not move. This is not entirely unfamiliar, but it has been so long since the depression reached so deep. Again, this could be attributed to alcohol, but it hinted once I hit Nashville and had no accompanying hangover.

I drove past my old house and managed to make it worse. I am not sure why. I miss the Dollies, but I do not think I miss living in the South or that house in particular. Though my husband and I had my daughter and became a family there. Perhaps it was the swell of memories on a vulnerable mind. Perhaps it was that many of those memories are edged in pain and depression akin to what I was feeling. I cannot accurately say because my mind’s narrative was so splintered as I was experiencing it.

Whatever was happening made my travel home excruciating. The logistics themselves were fine. I arrived to the airport early. My flight was on time. I had a lovely friend willing to pick me up. All of that was easy, but my experience of it was terrible. I felt like I was barely holding it together the entire time.

Again, I am honestly not sure why. I used to feel somewhat similar (turned WAY down) when I would visit Colorado while living in Tennessee. I have returned to the Dollies before and do always feel these feelings (turned WAY down). I don’t have an explanation as to why emotions ran so high this time. Did I dissociate? Did I depersonalize? What happened? I only know it has taken me almost four days to resurface.

All told, the trip was a rollercoaster. Emotionally more than anything. Yet I would not trade a single moment. Even the darkest moments made the pleasant ones burns all the more bright. I am still glowing. And maybe crying too.

As far as authoring, I think I learned some valuable lessons. My first publishing contract included a marketing class, to teach us to sell our own books. One basic premise was to not do BOOK things. Don’t do book events or book venues or anything centered around books. The idea being that you place yourself in direct competition with other books. Instead, it would be more advantageous to be the only book where your target audience might be.

After this experience, I can see it. I think I agree completely. But I needed to try it. I needed to experience it and learn for myself. Now, I know. Now, I have other ideas of what to do and try.

Tennessee the mini tour, totally worth it.

Christina Bergling

I have been so busy posting reviews for the Telluride Horror Show, that I haven’t yet had time to talk about my actual experience of it!

This year was my first attendance of the Telluride Horror Show. Previously, I have only made it to the Stanley Film Festival (back when there was such a delightful thing) once. I haven’t even been to Telluride since I was a child.

The Telluride Horror Show is in its 8th year so is relatively established, and that much shows. The festival is well organized and smooth running, and the town seems very acclimated to the invasion by hundred of horror lovers.

Plus, Telluride is just GORGEOUS! I’m a Colorado mountain girl, so a town like this will always speak my native tongue. I loved that everything for the festival was in walking distance. The venues might be a half mile apart at the farthest, and our lodging was situation blocks away between them. We were able to just walk everywhere and enjoy the mountain air (or a creepy dark path with a bear sighting).

We arrived midday on Friday (after having to deal with our son shoving cinnamon playdough up his nose and needing to go to the doctor for extraction from hours away). Since it was Friday the 13th, en route we watched Friday the 13th and Friday the 14th Part 2. It helped to set the appropriate mood for the weekend.

We threw down our bags, mixed a drink, and headed to pick up passes. The venue for pass pickup was a little congested with lines for the ice cream social, passes, the bar, and swag all intersecting. However, things moved so quickly and the swag was so awesome that it was easy to forgive. I am still living in my lightweight hoodie and hat I bought there. I was even able to find horror figurines to match my children’s upcoming Halloween costumes.

Then we raced over to our first screening, Tragedy Girls. Witty, funny, and socially on point, Tragedy Girls is a fantastic choice to set the mood for our festival experience. (Read my full review here)

Following Tragedy Girls, we headed over to Creepy Campfire Tales. When we attended the Stanley Film Festival, we devoted our entire trip to watching movies. We did not indulge in any of the other activities. This time, we were determined to take in some social and non-screen activities.

Envious as I was as another horror author listening to someone read their work by the flickering firelight in the crisp mountain air, it was a very enjoyable experience. Then it was a quick sprint to resupply on food and drinks before hurrying to another showing.

Being that it was Friday the 13th in October at a horror film festival, we absolutely had to go see Never Hike Alone. It is a wonderfully executed and painstakingly local fan film of Friday the 13th. (Read my full review here)

By the end of the movie, I had imbibed my fair share and was enjoying the added effect of a few more thousand feet in altitude. However, said enhancement turned on me in the morning. I suffered a very brief but crippling hangover. I had to sleep it off while the rest of my party attended the horror comedy block of shorts. I managed to pull myself together for round 2.

Trailers from Hell, a collection of 35MM horror movie trailers. The trailers span multiple decades, but they are absolutely ridiculous. It was just the sort of simple, mindless entertainment I needed to ease me back into my day.

Following the silly, we embarked into the more cerebral with the Lovecraftian mind-bender The Endless. I loved the realism in the fraternal relationship of the main characters and the raw and creepy filmmaking. (Read my full review here)

After The Endless, we walked down to the pig roast. I appreciated that the festival included a free meal. It is nice to splice in experiences when you can interact with all the three dimensional people you are sitting next to in the dark for hours. The food was basic but also filling and delicious, fueled us up for a night of solid screenings.

We went to Jungle next, a real-life account of a hiker lost in the Amazon jungle. It is raw and intense and terrifying. Though I would not normally classify such a movie as horror, it is so gripping I was wiling to embrace the deviation. (Read my full review here)

We exited the theater after viewing Jungle simply to line up in the cold outside it again for Creep 2. Knowing Creep 2 was on the roster in advance, we had watched Creep right before coming to Telluride. The franchise is an interesting approach to found footage, completely carried by the main actor. (Read my full review here)

By this point, my brain was becoming a bit overstimulated by so many horror movies, typical for this point in the movie festival. The final morning, we took in back to back horror short blocks. First suspenseful, which started strong for two then went off the rails. Then zombies, which were super fun.

The final showing came up, and I struggled with my commitment. Part of me just wanted to relax and do anything but watch another movie. However, I am so glad we powered through. Well, half our party.

For our last movie, we watched Trench 11, a horror movie set in World War I trenches. I loved the history, the characters, the filmmaking. Genuinely, I just enjoyed it as it brought a perfect close to our set. (Read my full review here)

Before we departed, we took in one more social horror event, mostly so we could hang out with friends we had made at the Stanley Film Festival. We participated in horror trivia. Although our entire team was just terrible at horror trivia, we managed to finish somewhere in the middle and had a fantastic time doing it.

Then there was the lovely 6 hour drive home in the dark. Small, winding mountain roads slicing through the night. My GPS leading us on the opening arc of a Wrong Turn movie on some desolate dirt road. Yet, somehow, we still made it home.

My overall first impressions of Telluride Horror Show are entirely positive. Truthfully, I can only directly compare it to my one attendance to Stanley Film Festival. In that competition, Telluride wins on films but falls shorter on venue. While Stanley Film Festival had fantastic movies, there were some I did not enjoy and some that unnerved me to the point of discomfort. Whereas with Telluride, I only took issue with some of the suspenseful shorts. The ending ratio was much more enjoyable.

However, you cannot argue with The Stanley Hotel as a venue. Telluride is small and very convenient in that we could walk absolutely everywhere very quickly, yet the social events were crammed into small spaces like the Sheridan’s bar. The ballrooms in The Stanley were much more open and conducive to socializing. There was also The Chiller Lounge, which was necessary to recover from movies like The Treatment.

Culture-wise, the two festivals had a similar feel. People were more engaging and friendly in person at the Stanley Film Festival; however, there was much more online networking after Telluride Horror Show. The proprietors, in particular, are very responsive on social media, which always makes a fan and attendee feel appreciated. After the show, I was contacted over Twitter by multiple directors to review their movies.

And the social experience is a large part of what a festival is about for me. I can watch horror movies anywhere and with anyone. It is something different and decidedly more special to do it with people who share the same passion, with people who contributed directly to what you are watching. I adore cast and director Q&A. I love being able to randomly talk to a filmmaker in line for their movie. It is what going to a horror film festival is all about for me.

Telluride Horror Show was a fantastic experience for everyone in our group. We have already begun planning and plotting for next year and enlisting other victims to join us.


After the Telluride Horror Show, my viewing was able to continue. I was privileged enough to screen Frazier Park Recut from the comfort of my own couch. The multiple perspective found footage film is both a throwback and something divergent in the subgenre. I would have loved to have gotten it into our viewing schedule while we were there! (Read my full review here)


Christina Bergling

The other day, I was just doing laundry, like any other working mother might. Honestly, I may spend half my life washing and putting away laundry. Anyway, I was trying to figure out what clothes I would want to pack for Telluride Horror Show. I ended up doing an inventory of my horror/Halloween/gothic wardrobe.

I ended up with over 40 items. Now, in high school, I was a typical damaged little goth girl. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, and I don’t do anything I like a little. And when I grew up, I became a horror writer. None of this is unexpected. Some pieces are from my gothic recovery period in my early 20s. Some are horror movie shirts. There are just a lot.

Some have been woefully neglected, so I resolved to wear them ALL in the month of October. And if I’m going to do something so festive, I might as well hop on social media and share that silliness with everyone. So I am going to post pictures of each of my ensembles on Instagram, Twitter, here…

Now, am I model? Nope. Do I have a perfect appearance by societal definition? Absolutely not. This is all just fun and games. This is about the clothes.

So in addition to #31DaysofHorror bingo, I will be posting pictures for #Hallowear all month. Enjoy!


**UPDATE: The Clothes**

45 ensembles later! I clearly underestimated my fashion patterns.

At first, it was fun to document all these clothes I love. Many had been left neglected in my closet for years. However, taking selfies or having people take pictures of me every day had a strange psychological effect. By the end of the month, I was OVER it. I was sick of posing and selecting clothes from a finite selection and of seeing my own face. The first two days of November, I did my hair away from the mirror because I was done with my own visage.

So while it was fun, do not expect it to become a regular thing from me. Unless I buy another 45 pieces of horror/Halloween attire!


Christina Bergling

It is that month again. The best of all the months. A time when the weather finally descends from hellish heat to a cold edge in the air. When death is all around you as the corpses of leaves gather on the cool ground. When the gothic and macabre overtake the mainstream and ghouls and goblins come out to play.

It is also time once again to participate in #31DaysofHorror! This entails watching a horror movie every day during the month of October. Last year, I managed to get 50 horror films in the month!

This year, I am adding bingo to the event. So please, read the rules below, download the board and play along!

31 Days of Horror Bingo Rules:

  1. Each day of October, watch a different horror movie. You are allowed to catch up by watching multiple movies in one day.
  2. For each movie, cross out a tombstone on the board. Only one horror cliche per movie!
  3. Blackout all 24 spaces in the 31 days.

That’s it. Simple. Let’s see who can overdose on horror movies first!


**UPDATE: The Completed Board**

Plus bonus movies:

The Invitation
The Endless
The Belko Experiment
Gerald’s Game
Frazier Park Recut
Cult of Chucky
The Girl with All the Gifts
30 Days of Night
Annabelle Creation
The Mummy
Trick r Treat

This year’s total: 36 horror movies

I’m already formulating new bingo boards for next year…


Christina Bergling

This October, a friend on Twitter invited me to participate in #31DaysofHorror, in which you strive to watch one horror movie each day. Initially, I thought I would participate here and there, as I could. I should have known better. Once I started, I became obsessive as I always do. After the Nightmare on Elm Street in theater marathon added 7 movies to my total in one night, I decided to go for 50 movies in the month of October.


And I got to 51.

Honestly, it was a blast. It was a lot of horror. Daunting at times, mind eroding at others. Yet ultimately, it was fun to indulge in so much of the holiday horror spirit and be able to share it with plenty of awesome people online. My poor, little mind may never recover, but I will definitely be doing it again next year. Probably even harder, if I know myself at all.

So I give you my 51 movies of horror in October. Happy Halloween!


 1_wyrmwood Wyrmwood

A bunch of interesting ideas that lacked the execution to really make them work. I wanted to like it, but it needed more development and polishing.

 2-cabininthewoods Cabin in the Woods

One of my favorite horror movies. A refreshing spin on horror lore, archetypes, and the genre in general.

 3-wearestillhere We are Still Here

Simplistic, well executed horror. A well balanced and creepy haunting story.

 4-28dayslater 28 Days Later

A movie that changed the zombie genre. Always amazing.

 5-28weekslater 28 Weeks Later

The overproduced and Americanized sequel that pales in comparison to its predecessor. Fine movie, disappointing sequel.

 6_ghostsofmars Ghosts of Mars

Bad, just so very bad. But I do love John Carpenter. And Ice Cube.

 7_headless Headless

We found this movie on a list of most disturbing horror. It was definitely graphic and gross and depraved–but all with purpose. I really enjoyed it.

 8_humancentipede2 Human Centipede 2

More graphic,  more twisted, and more disturbing than its predecessor. Who knew it was possible? Yet still well done.

 9_humancentipede3 Human Centipede 3

What. The. Fuck. The franchise completely went off the rails into ridiculous and just awful.

 10_whatwedointheshadows What We Do in the Shadows

Interview with the Vampire meets The Real World. Just hysterical and wonderful.

 11_yourenext You’re Next

One of my favorite newer horror movies. So well done and all about the survivor.

 12_thepurgeelectionyear The Purge: Election Year

Perfect watch for this election year. Chock full of social commentary and blood.

 13_letmein Let Me In

Potentially my favorite remake. I adore Let the Right One In, and this one manages to live up to it.

 14_thefog The Fog

Creepy and classic.

 15_vhs V/H/S

A very clever horror anthology that made me nauseous. With the shaky cam filming rather than the content.

 16_finalgirls The Final Girls

A horror comedy I have loved since first seeing it at The Stanley Film Festival.

 17_hanselandgretel Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters

I was very skeptical of this selection but found it gory and very fun.

 18_nightmare A Nightmare on Elm Street

Just as brilliant as it is classic. This one may contain my favorite death scene in ALL of horror.

 19_freddy2 A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge

The homoerotic sequel that does not make a whole lot of sense.

 20_freddy3 A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

The second best in the franchise; the sequel that should have followed the first.

 21_freddy4 A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master

Eh. An acceptable chapter.

 22_freddy5 A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child

Terrible. Just TERRIBLE. I only watched it because it was in the theater in the middle of the marathon. I would have napped through if I didn’t have so many Monsters.

 23_freddy6 Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare

The humor is on point, and Freddy is awesome, but the rest of the movie was just crap.

 24_freddy7 New Nightmare

I am utterly torn on this one. I love when horror makes fun of itself, and the premise is clever. Plus a great cast reunion! Yet I hate what they did to Freddy when he leaves the screen.

 25_freddyvjason Freddy vs Jason

A great Freddy movie. Just fun.

 26_feast Feast

Funny and creepy and gross but enjoyable.

 27_inthemouthofmadness In the Mouth of Madness

Amazing. Required for both horror fans and writers (like myself).

 28_theguest The Guest

Unnerving and well balanced. A perfect blend of suspense.

 29_vhs2 V/H/S 2

The entries in this anthology might be inferior to the first collection, but the filming did not make me sick, which made it easier for me to participate and enjoy.

 30_evildead2 Evil Dead 2

When the franchise really embraced itself.

 31_armyofdarkness Army of Darkness

A little bit of ridiculous fun with the undead.

 32_dragmetohell Drag Me to Hell

Campy and gross. Very fun.

 33_americanmary American Mary

Sexy horror and depraved fetish. Basically, me in a nutshell. One of my very favorite movies.

 34_otis Otis

Funny and twisted. When revenge becomes a family affair.

 35_talesofhalloween Tales of Halloween

Not the best Halloween anthology I have seen (clue: it’s Trick r Treat) but still a festive watch.

 36_deadsnow Dead Snow

Nazi zombies. Nazi. Zombies! So good.

 37_vhsviral V/H/S Viral

I hated the final chapter in the franchise. It’s like the filmmakers got financing and did not know what to do with it.

 38_halloween Halloween

The Halloween classic that started it all.

 39_halloween2 Halloween II

A direct continuation of the first.

 40_halloweenh20 Halloween H20

The third and only other entry I recognize in the Halloween franchise. I love watching Laurie decide to face her demons.

 41_candyman Candyman

Clever twists on the haunting convention.

 42_leslievernon Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

Absolutely brilliant horror comedy that comes after every horror convention and archetype.

 43_theconjuring The Conjuring

As my husband always says, creepy as balls. And balls can be pretty creepy.

 44_thereanimator The Re-Animator

The B-rated Lovecraftian classic.

 45_scream Scream

My VERY first horror movie!

 46_scream2 Scream 2

I am still accepting that they killed Randy.

 47_scream3 Scream 3

I do like the jabs at horror and Hollywood, but really? What?

 48_scream4 Scream 4

My favorite of the sequels. I like the critique of nouveau horror and reboots.

 49_saw Saw

Another genre changer. Gritty and raw and original.

 50_silenceofthelambs The Silence of the Lambs

One of my favorite movies (not just horror). Hannibal Lecter is the best serial killer.

 51_trickrtreat Trick r Treat

THE Halloween movie. This film embodies everything I love about the holiday in one anthology. Our post trick-or-treating tradition.

What horror movies did you watch in October? Any Halloween traditions? What’s your favorite scary movie?


Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!


As the sun retreated from the sky and the last rays of light died in the air, Marla’s small body began to materialize on top of the cracked asphalt. Her hips appeared first, the round bulbs of her pelvis spiraling out of obscurity as spinal vertebrae sprouted to climb up to her shoulders and bare skull. The tiny skeleton curled on the street in the fetal position, with her eye socket rooted to ground.

The skeletal fingertips twitched and jerked against the rough blacktop as the skull softly swayed side to side. As the bones began to animate, muscle and flesh blossomed along their edges like moss, overtaking the form as veins and arteries snaked up through the tissue. Hair budded from the fresh scalp until the wily mass of strands draped over Marla’s little shoulders.

Within seconds of dusk, the entire child body returned to the street, complete with the torn clothes. She lifted her head slowly from the pavement, her ejected eye clinging to the ground before popping up to dangle along her shredded cheek. Her right hand flopped half detached as it dropped from her bloody forearm. She stood on crooked legs with flaps of flesh shaved down and hanging over her knees.

Marla stood straight in her broken body, eye wagging with each movement, under the growing moonlight. The headlights of a large truck blazed up over her. She turned the eye still in her head to the vehicle before it drove through her in a swirling puff of steam. The edges of her form wavered before snapping back into shape.


Marla turned unaffected by the truck driving through her, or the staggered series of cars that followed. She moved instinctively to the southwest corner just as she did every year. She stepped onto the curb, with one shoe on and one bare, scraped foot, as the contorted figure of her mother shambled toward her through the streetlight.

Abigail’s head cocked at an extreme angle, and her spine warped in sympathy. Blood had poured from her gaping headwound, drenching her face and clothes in a waterfall of red. Her feet splayed out in divergent directions, causing her to hobble even slower than the twisted corpse of her daughter.

“Hello, my beautiful girl,” Abigail whispered in a rasp as she wrapped her arms around her shattered child. “Welcome to our night.”

“I missed you, Mommy,” Marla said as she cuddled into her mother’s blood-soaked sweater.

“I missed you, beautiful.”

Abigail took Marla’s destroyed face in her hands, allowing the suspended eyeball to roll along her palm. Marla smiled sweetly with the facial muscles she had left.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mommy.”

“I’m sorry, baby. If I had known you hadn’t buckled your seatbelt, I would have never left the parking lot.”

“You don’t have to say that every year, Mommy.”

“You just had to get a new costume that night.”

“The one I had looked stupid.”

“No, it didn’t, but I wanted you to have a good Halloween.”

“It’s OK, Mommy. We can have another good Halloween tonight.”

“What should we do tonight?”

“I want to go see Daddy and Jakey.”

“No, baby. We don’t go see them.”

“Why not?”

“The same as every year. We don’t know how long it has been. It would make me sad to go and see Jake all grown up or your daddy as a grandpa.”

“It hasn’t been that long. Jakey will still be little. Just like when we left.”

“We don’t know that, Marla. We don’t go see them. Now, come now. Let’s do something fun.”

“Can we borrow bodies?” Marla perked up, and the tear in her cheek deepened as she grinned.

“Oh, that sounds like fun. What do you want to do with them?”

“I want to go trick-or-treating! But, this year, I want to be the momma and you be the kid.”

“Are you sure? It’s way more fun to be the kid.”

“No. It’s better to be the grown up.”

“That’s what all kids think. Until they become grown ups. But I suppose you never have to worry about that.”

“I still want to be the momma.”

“OK, baby, you can be the momma. You can even pick the bodies.”


Marla leaped in excitement then took her mother’s hand in her attached arm, her other hand waggling loosely on threads of traumatized flesh. The two mangled forms moved unseen through the darkness as scurrying trick-or-treaters began to flood the streets.


Marla let her eye move over each group of figures in the night. The child body would have to be young to still have an adult escort. She watched a parade of tiny princesses march down the sidewalk, mothers snapping pictures with their phones like paparazzi. She looked over a group of unchaperoned tweens running by giggling under their masks.

Finally, she caught sight of a young boy marching down the street. He smiled euphorically under his pirate’s eyepatch, swinging a hefty bucket of candy at his side. Behind him, his mother weaved absentmindedly as her eyes fixated down on the glowing screen of her phone. She gripped a large travel coffee mug tightly with the other hand, taking compulsive sips every couple steps.

“Them,” Marla said, pointing confidently, knowing the living could not see her.

“The pirate and his mom?”

Marla nodded enthusiastically, her hanging eye bouncing up and down.

“Well, I’ve never been a pirate before,” Abigail laughed. “OK, darling, you know what to do.”

Marla stepped in the path of the distracted mother and placed her palms together out in front of her. As the woman turned Marla’s fingertips into mist, Marla swung her arms, as if swimming in the water, and dove right into the mother’s chest. Somewhere behind her, Abigail did the same to the young pirate.

“This feels weird, Mommy…I mean, son,” Marla said moving her arms in the strange new skin.

The living flesh felt awkward, heavy, confining. Marla and Abigail took a moment to shift and fidget, finding their bearings locked back under the bars of the bones. Marla took an awkward step forward and nearly toppled over. She realigned herself over her feet and brought the hefty cup to her lips. The acidic taste of the liquid bit her tongue, and she immediately spat it out.

“Eeww! What is this?” Marla held the cup out to her mother in the pirate costume.

Abigail reached the young boys hand’s forward and took a sip.

“Oh,” Abigail said, knowingly. “That is not coffee at all. That’s wine.”

“Wine? Why would she have wine in a coffee mug?”

“Because being the kid is more fun, dear,” Abigail laughed.

The two moved forward in staggering steps until walking became more familiar. With each passing house, they moved more naturally until they strode like all the other living people. They approached the next house with the porch light on and hesitated at the base of the driveway.

“What is it?” Marla asked, awkwardly juggling the coffee mug and oversized smartphone.

“I haven’t trick-or-treated in decades. Even in decades when I was alive. I’m nervous, I think.”

“That’s silly, Mommy. Son. Just go up there; ring the bell; and say, ‘Trick or treat!’”

“OK, I’m going.”

“What do I do?”

“While I trick-or-treat?”




“Yes. You follow me and stand here waiting for me. That’s it. Just don’t drink that cup. You’re having enough trouble walking in that body already.”

“Maybe the kid does have all the fun.”

“Told you.”

Marla watched her mother toddle up the concrete in the little pirate body and stood drumming her fingers on the cup she was not supposed to drink. When Abigail disappeared around the edge of the house, Marla took a deep sip on defiant principle then winced as it burned down her throat and pooled heat in her stomach.

Marla would never grow up to understand adults.

She turned the cup over and dumped the wine in the street. The red liquid looked just like all the blood that had poured out from her head when she went careening through the windshield so many Halloweens ago.

“That was weird,” Abigail laughed as she skipped back with a heavier bucket.

They moved house to house, repeating the same pattern around dark, curved blocks. With each stop, Marla grew more anxious. She tapped the mother’s toe on the hard ground. She crossed her arms and wished she knew how to operate the phone she shoved into her back pocket. Other children began to grow scarce on the street.

“I think that’s enough now, Mommy,” Marla said. “I mean, son.”

“Oh, come on. I can get this kid even more candy. Look at all the porch lights on that street.”

“No, I don’t want to anymore.”

“Not having any fun, beautiful?”

“Next year, I want to be the kid again.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Abigail smiled and took Marla’s hand, strange in the reversal of the angle.

“Well, let’s go put them back where we got them, and we’ll have a little time before our night is over,” Abigail said.

They walked the borrowed bodies back along their meandering trail to the driveway where they started. Marla drew her energy toward her center then thrust it upward. As she appeared wispy and disfigured again beside the mother, she felt herself expand into the freedom outside of the flesh. She watched the mother return to the surface disoriented, looking confused at the empty coffee mug in her hand.

Taking her mother’s ghostly hand once more, Marla followed her through the quieting streets. Jack o’lanterns flickered with dying candles on the porches. Music thumped out from lingering Halloween parties. The light air would have been crisp and the leaves would have crunched under their footsteps if they could feel either.

Abigail led Marla back to her spot in the middle of the intersection. She did not think of the way she could hear the front end of her car collapse or the way she saw the body of her child go flying past her head and through the windshield. She never saw Marla’s actual body on the street; she never left the driver seat.

“Are you ready to sleep, darling?” Abigail said.

“Yes, Mommy. It was a good Halloween.”


Marla crouched down on the pavement and lined herself up just as she had materialized, still clinging to her mother’s hand like an afterthought.

“Yes, it was, but next year, you can be the kid again.”

“Sounds good, Mommy. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful. I’ll see you next year.”

Abigail bent down and pressed her lips to her daughter’s cracked forehead, even as the cars continued to drive through and over them. Before Marla turned to plant her eye socket back on the pavement, she watched her mother hobble away into the night, back to her place. With each step, a layer disintegrated from Abigail’s form, as if she was melting into wisps in the air. Marla faded too. She felt herself shedding coherency until she dropped her head, and they both blew away before the sun pierced the sky.


Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!


When you tell people that you are an author, the inevitable first question is always, “Well, what do you write?” To which I nonchalantly answer, “horror.” I love seeing the reactions. Usually, it is either shock with an awkward stumbling or fascination. In any case, the reaction generally provides a pretty solid gauge on how the remainder of our interaction on the subject will play out.


If the questioner remains interested, the follow up question is naturally, “Why horror?” Especially if we start discussing The Waning. Everyone seems to have a strong reaction to that book, one way or another. Most people can get behind zombies and the apocalypse like in Savages with how mainstream those themes have become. Not everyone can take captivity and seemingly endless (and some might say, pointless) torture, however. I have family members who could not even finish The Waning; it was too “dark.”


It is not an easy question to answer: why horror? With most things, you can get away with the canned response that you just like it. With horror, however, being so centered around darkness, pain, suffering, and all undesirable facets of life, people have a harder time understanding why someone would be drawn to it, would willing sign up to be disturbed. A common assumption is that you are damanged, broken in some way. Being not just a voyeur but a creator of such content makes you all the more suspect.

For multiple reasons, I have been ruminating on my own attraction to pain, damage, and even horror as well as introspecting on the patterns of my own mind. It is an easy assumption to correlate a comfort and enjoyment of negative things with damage or defect. Even just in my own personal instance, the preference seems innate rather than acquired. Cultivated, perhaps, yet it seems to have been a part of me as long as I can remember.

I have always felt the allure of horror. It resonated with my mind, spoke to something inside me. A darkness, maybe. Even in the youngest, happiest, most sheltered parts of my childhood, I found myself drawn to things like Halloween, fascinated by all the morbidity that surrounded them. Innocuous though the start, it grew into something else. A symptom of something deeper. I was always fixated and intrigued by pain, my own and that of others.


As a young child, I remember feeling so much. It was a perpetual and unmanageable swell of emotions, constant and unrelenting. I experienced the most intense happiness and infatuations, yet more than that, I had a well of pain and unhappiness. I felt such strong dark and negative feelings without seeming cause. And, in an attempt to figure myself out, I remember trying to find excuses for how I felt, trying to classify my emotions into the boxes I understood. Boxes, I would learn, that would never fit me.

Yet, as I grew older, it became more clear that the darkness was in me, not infecting from outside circumstance but inherent. The pain inflicted by external stimuli, though traumatic at times, never seemed to be as black or as consuming as the kind that blossomed from my center. Instead, I sought out excuses for how I felt; I manufactured circumstance to confirm what originated somewhere beneath and behind my consciousness. It took a lot of time and severing endless strings of denial to make peace with that part of me, to identify myself as the culprit under all the layers I created.

I lost my mind, dissolved into the darkness in my teenaged years. When I think back to the way the pain devoured and distorted my mind in those darkest days, I do not know how I made it to the other side. I do not know how I functioned. I do not know how I graduated high school early, how I held down jobs, how I kept my parents at bay, how I maintained any kind of interpersonal relationships, how I went to college. I cannot remember either. Every fragment and remnant of that period in my mind is a flicker in a blur of so many substances and unchecked moods.


I was a mess. Yet, in that mess, I was pure. I was honest. I was unrefined. And because of that, I am still irresitably drawn to that darkness. And anything that speaks to that caged and sedated part of me.

Like horror.

I am not saying one needs to be damaged and defective to enjoy horror. Nor am I saying that is the reason I respond to it on such an instinctual level. Horror, for me, is an outlet to part of myself. It confronts realities in our world and in our culture (and myself) that may not be pleasant but remain just as real. Personally, I enjoy the experience of that confrontation.

I can write a version of myself on the page who does not have her shit together, who relents to her broken mind, who is so inescapably damaged. I can empathize with a character on the screen in their worst and most tormented hour. I can toy with the darkness inside of me, letting my fingers play in the edge of the flame, without burning down my entire life.

I enjoy the flirtation with the dangerous part of me, my undesirable yet pervasive center. It is like having an affair behind the back of my sanity. Exciting and wild.


Horror speaks to me in the language my base self understands. I am attracted to the pain the same way I used to actively seek my own, whether through self-destructive behavior or abject self-mutilation. All that is still inside of me, and my indulgence of horror is my safe, neutered way to still interact with it.

Ultimately, despite all my therapy and self-examination and understanding, I do not know why the darkness comforts me, why the pain seems native. I do not like that I find a grotesque familiarity in suffering. Could it be the damage of deformed neurotransmitters? Could it be the absense of adequate neurochemicals? Is it some association forged in experience that tumbled out of my memory? Is it something wrong with me, or is it simply me?

I spend a disproportionate amount of my life in depression. Not because my life is unsatisfactory but because that is half of the symptomology of my brain. Perhaps my affinity for horror is merely an adaptation to this. It does substantially decrease the burden to feel at home in my own sadness; it does help to surrender and wrap myself up in the black rather than fight or resist it. Maybe it’s my survival mechanism that I never knew I would need until bipolar blossomed across the wrinkles of my mind.

Regardless of causality and circumstance, independant of reasoning, I accepted myself long ago. I have embraced and actively cultivate all of these tendancies and preferences bubbling inside my head. I find joy in the darkest places and experience the breadth of a full spectrum of emotions. I live in extremes, for the better and worse.


I am not sure if this post is ultimately about horror or bipolar or just some rambling about weird musings I have had lately. I know I’ve written about my attraction to horror before and our cultural attraction to it. To keep the answer simple, I write horror to get it out of my brain. For whatever reason, it breeds between my cells, and I express it. I feel better letting it out and indulging in it. It is just who I am.





Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!


Like any good horror fan, I have enjoyed the Evil Dead franchise. Most recently, I indulged in Ash vs Evil Dead on Starz. So when we saw that Evil Dead: The Musical was being performed by the Equinox Theater Company in Denver over the summer, my friends and I immediately bought tickets.


The six of us incorporated the show into a birthday celebration and trekked to the Bug Theater down the streets of downtown dressed all in white. We purchased splatter zone tickets, naturally, and wanted every drop of carnage to be visible.

The first act began a bit slow for me. It might have been the fallout of spending a day drinking mead in the sun. It might have been the impatience for blood and carnage. It might have been my fixation on thinking the actors for Ash and Scottie should have been reversed. The first act definitely was not poor quality at all, but it was not as engaging as I needed. Some of the expected corny parts struck an eye roll rather than a chuckle.

However, the second act made up for any inadequacies I found in the first. With mundane requirements like plot establishment and character development out of the way, the play dived into the meat. Literally.


As a whole, Evil Dead: The Musical was just fun for our entire party. The rendition remained very true to its inspiration, keeping a balance of gratuitous horror and campy comedy. Many jokes and puns hurt as much as they tickled.

I was impressed by the Equinox Theater Company, though I do think Ash may have been slightly intoxicated for how many times he stumbled on his lines. He definitely could sing and throw himself across the stage in physical comedy to make up for it. My favorite portrayal was definitely Ash’s sister, Cheryl. The actress did a superb job of making her both hysterical and unnerving. I enjoyed every time she popped up from the floorboards. We also did not miss how she took Ash accidentally really slamming her face into the stage like a champ.

I was, however, disappointed in the splatter zone. Here, I was, dressed in a pretty white lace dress. I do not wear pretty. Or white. Or lace. I wanted that dress to get absolutely destroyed. I wanted to look like a horror movie survivor or, at the least, like I used to look after a heavy metal belly dance show or horror photo shoot. I wanted fake blood like this picture of the Detroit show.


Unfortunately, we ended up in the last row of the splatter zone. We were shielded from much of the carnage by the patrons in front of us. The lucky bastards. Then, much of the blood was actually just kool-aid. My husband even tasted it to confirm. It produced this watered-down, pinkish, sticky blood that barely showed up even on our white apparel.

I have interacted with a lot of fake blood in my day. From the bottles at the Halloween store to an amazing chocolate recipe I learned from a brilliantly twisted photographer. I was hoping a theater performance would step up the quality. The blood thrown not from a super soaker (hilarious, by the way) or the fertilizer sprayer was more legit though.

From some online research, it looks like other cities stepped up their splattering a bit. Maybe it was venue restraints (been there); maybe it was director’s purview. I just wanted MORE. More blood.

I did end up with a bloody dusting that looked a bit like spaghetti gone wrong, but I will take it. I took one shot right in the eye. It was fun to be so interactively part of the experience. Splatter zone again definitely. Splatter zone every time.


All in all, my experience of Evil Dead: The Musical was awesome; I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would recommend it; I would go again. Of course, I had complaints and things I would change but not enough to detract from the overall fun.


After this, I wish I would have gone to see Silence! The Musical when it was running in April. More horror musicals!


Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!

By night, I might be a twisted horror-loving author… but by day, I am a mild-mannered (haha, not really!) solutions architect and technical writer, slinging XSLT, HTML, and CSS code and cranking out user help documentation.


This very much makes me a person of multiple minds and multiple lives.


All in all, this also amounts to a severe amount of computer screen time every day. Somewhere in these glaring hours, I began to muse about what would happen if my two professions intersected. If horror became code, what would it look like?


So much as the XSLT I write translates XML for viewing in HTML, I translated a bit of my favorite horror movie killers into XSLT. This may not be the most well-formed or correct portion of a stylesheet I’ve ever written, but hopefully, it is the right amount of geeky horror humor. (Sorry, I had to post it as an image to avoid it being read as code.)

Microsoft Word - Document1


(If the code is unreadable as an image, here is a PDF.)

Oh the horror!


What would it be like if your job was blended with a horror movie?


Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!

I apologize for the break in the regular posting. My family and I went to England for the holidays; then I became slightly consumed by writing book #3. I have finally reached the point in the story that has me excited and engaged–murder.

2015 vanished in the blink of an eye. I am officially old, that specific age where time starts to disappear faster than I can register. I now understand what my parents were always saying about how the years fly by. The years are flying, and 2015 was the fastest yet.


Let us take this moment, though, to review the fruits of the horror genre we all experienced in 2015. Please feel free to comment with your own favorites.

Horror Movie

I did not see even a fraction of the horror movies released in 2015 that I wanted to, though I did watch a robust library of horror over the months. I reviewed 39 horror movies on MoviePilot over the year. This left me 13 shy of my goal, but there is always 2016.

If I limit my 2015 horror movie ingestion to only those films released in 2015, horror comedy ended up ruling the year. Historically, horror comedy has been perhaps my least favorite subgenre under the horror umbrella. However, all my favorite 2015 horror movies are horror comedies. Maybe I was feeling more lighthearted this year; maybe my compromising with my viewing partners brought me to the lighter side. Or maybe the subcategory is growing on me.

I even find myself currently penning a horror comedy novel. What has become of me?


My favorite horror movies released in 2015 are:


Nostalgia played a huge role in nominating Goosebumps and The Final Girls, particularly the former. Krampus secured my heart by infecting the joyous holiday of Christmas with fear. Yet all are clever and/or well executed; all manage to strike the crucial balance between horror and comedy, a balance of which I am particularly demanding.

I did also watch a fair amount of non comedy horror over the year, but much of that was horror education like Hellraiser and Re-animator, but since this list is restricted to those released in 2015, horror comedy wins!


Tell me what I missed, what movies I should add to my list for 2016.

Horror TV

The Walking Dead rules this category. Obviously. Always does. Mostly, I enjoyed the offerings of my regulars. The Walking Dead, Penny DreadfulAmerican Horror Story. However, the best new additions were Scream Queens (horror comedy again!) and Ash vs. Evil Dead (also pretty much horror comedy–what is happening to me?). If I had to select the series that got the most into my heart and my head during the year, I would declare Penny Dreadful the winner. The last season crawled inside my head, and I sit rigid on the edge of my seat for next installment.


Horror Book

I did not get to read in 2015. I planned to; I wanted to. Instead, I devoted any spare time I could scrape up to writing. I managed to sneak one book on the plane to England, but it was not horror. I went classic and finally read Venus in Furs. It was amazing! It is the BDSM book everyone should be reading instead of 50 Shades of Grey. The terms sadist and masochist actually come from the author’s name: Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I devoured it in a sitting.


Tell me what I should be reading when I reclaim some of my own spare time.

Horror Experience

The Stanley Film Festival was an amazing horror experience. We crammed in as many movies and parties as we could, yet I still do not feel like we even grazed the surface. I loved being able to see such a variety of films before the leaped into the market. I loved being able to see and hear from the actors and filmmakers. I loved feeling like an active member of the horror community. Then, there was, of course, staying in the Stanley Hotel itself. Potentially the best birthday present I have received to date.

I would love to say that I would be returning to the festival this year, but it does not appear to be in the cards. I am certain, however, that I will find myself there another year in the future. Most likely, more than once.


What were your horror favorites in 2015?

Christina Bergling


Two survivors search the ruins of America for the last strain of humanity. Marcus believes they are still human; Parker knows her own darkness. Until one discovery changes everything.

Available now on Amazon!

TheWaning_CoverThe Waning

Beatrix woke up in a cage. Can she survive long enough to escape, or will he succeed at breaking her down into a possession?

Available now on Amazon!